Chapter Text
The fire he and Sonic had made at dusk had long since gone out, and the only source of warmth Flash had now was the thin fabric enveloping him, and Sonic’s body heat, just a few feet away.
Flash was shivering.
“Mmmm, Flash?” Sonic whispered, rubbing sleep from his eye. “You’re still awake?”
“Um—”
“I can hear your teeth chattering from over here,” Sonic said flatly.
Flash could feel his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “…sorry,” he said quietly.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were cold?” Sonic asked, sounding concerned – a far cry from the harsh voices of instructors back in the village. “Come over here.”
Flash opened his mouth to protest; intimacy and affection was strictly forbidden in the village. But he stopped himself. It was just a survival tactic, he thought, and he was cold. He needed warmth and it was being offered to him.
As he slipped out of his sleeping bag and crawled over to where Sonic lay, Flash felt his heart race. He’d never been so close to another person before that he could recall in his time at the village – that didn’t involve being attacked or beaten, that is. Was this what friendship was like?
“Get in here,” Sonic ordered, opening his sleeping bag for Flash to lie beside him.
Yes, this was friendship. Sonic was his friend.
“Good night, Flash.”
“….good night, Sonic.”
Sonic hated to admit it, but he was growing increasingly anxious.
That bald son-of-a-bitch Saitama had wrecked two of his beloved katana, and now his tin can of a sidekick had destroyed his favourite scarf (not to mention, snipped off his topknot, something he was still seething about). To top it all off, in a failed attempt to defeat both of them, Sonic had wasted countless shuriken and kunai (admittedly more than he should have). All in all, the last few months had been a complete failure, and him having taken a break from his assassination work only added to his current predicament.
He was running out of weapons. And money. And he was no closer to defeating Saitama.
Sonic missed working, if he was being honest with himself; there was never an enemy he couldn’t defeat, nobody he couldn’t take out in exchange for a thick wad of cash. Damn, he missed the boost in confidence assassination work gave him – not to mention, of course, the cash.
Which is why he had finally decided to give up the good fight against the Caped Baldy…for now. Sonic’d be back stronger than ever, once he had gotten his funds back in order.
He loved putting himself out there, loved knowing no matter where he posted his contact information, nobody would be fast enough to catch him, or be smart enough to keep him detained. Word of mouth spread quickly among the crime world, anyway, about the assassins and bodyguards that were the most highly regarded, and Sonic could boast that title to anyone who’d listen. His phone had rung often (always a private caller) while he had taken his leave of absence to train, but even as calls had died down with the lack of response, it never stopped completely. In his current financial situation, he told himself that he’d take the next job that was offered to him. Even the crappy, low-paying, unfulfilling jobs paid for new weaponry.
Sonic was in his Z-City apartment (deep in the woods and long since abandoned, what with the increase in monster attacks recently) finishing his eggs and rice on his futon when his cellphone buzzed on the floor beside him. Excited, he picked it up.
“Yes?”
There was silence on the other end. Already annoyed, Sonic huffed. “Hello?”
“…Is this Speed O’ Sound Sonic?”
“Yes. What do you want?”
Another, longer pause. Sonic was about to hang up in frustration when he heard a throaty chuckle on the other end. “So the number they gave me wasn’t a fake. Brilliant. Anyway, can you meet in Z-City Park tomorrow at dusk? At the picnic table by the river? I have a job for you…that if you can complete, would pay quite nicely.”
On the phone, Sonic rolled his eyes. He’d heard that line before only to be disappointed with the shitty pay at the end of the job. However, the lack of details certainly piqued his interest, and he had nothing to fear if it was some sort of trick. And right now, money was money. So Sonic smirked and replied, “Sure. I expect this meeting to be discreet. I don’t need to waste my weaponry on some cheap show.”
“That won’t be a problem. I don’t have much time to waste, anyhow.” The gravely voice seemed suddenly cheerful. “I look forward to meeting you.”
The line went dead, and Sonic threw himself back onto his futon and grinned. Money – seemingly quite a lot of it – and much quicker than he had expected. Score!
The Sun was just beginning to set when Sonic arrived, donning his casual clothes (dagger hidden in his pant leg), to Z-City Park. There was no one around, with what few citizens remained in Z-City having settled in for the night. The picnic tables were all empty, save for the one by the river, where a smartly dressed man sat reading a newspaper. If he hadn’t been looking for him, Sonic probably would not have given the man a second thought.
Sonic approached the table, his footsteps (however quiet) making the man look up and set the paper down. “Ah, you’re here,” the man remarked, his face emotionless, his eyes hidden with dark sunglasses despite the time of day. “Since you’ve arrived, and nobody is around, let’s get right to business, shall we?”
Sonic did as told and, sensing no particular threat from this man, sat down before him. “The fact you have not identified who I am reassures me that I am continuing to do well to remain inconspicuous. You’ve surely heard the name Hideki Odaka?” At that, Sonic’s eyes widened involuntarily in shock.
Odaka was one of the most well-known men in the underground assassin world. Although Sonic preferred to operate alone – nobody could fuck you over that way – many assassins chose to work in a gang-type operation, working for a particular crime boss or whatnot. And some of these crime bosses paid big, offered protection, and were good at evading the authorities. Odaka was one of these, and the police had been unable to track him down or even find a photo of him. To have him sitting in front of Sonic was an event in and of itself.
In any other circumstances, Sonic probably would have laughed in Odaka’s face, big gang leader or not, and told him he wasn’t about to give up working alone just to be coddled. But now, with 2 swords and God knew how many shuriken gone, he needed the money. And for some reason, this meeting didn’t strike Sonic as a recruitment.
As if reading Sonic’s thoughts, Odaka held up his hands. “I know you, Sonic, I know you work alone. Trust me, this is a one-time deal,” he said, lifting a briefcase from the bench he was sitting on and setting it on the table. “But I can’t keep letting my good men get killed. You’re my last hope, so to speak.”
Sonic crossed his arms and smirked. “I’m sorry you wasted time and money on such petty scum.”
Odaka chuckled a bit as he unlocked the briefcase. “Oh, trust me, I am too. Although I have to give them credit where it is due for trying. This isn’t an easy opponent to defeat.”
Sonic frowned a bit, now curious, but his confidence remained high. After all, the only reason Odaka hadn’t hired him before was because everyone knew Sonic worked alone. This apparent “opponent” would have been dead long ago otherwise, if Sonic had any say in the matter.
“The Hero Association wasn’t joking around when they made this bastard S-Class. Killed all my best assassins, he did.”
Suddenly, Sonic shot straight up in his seat. He felt a wave of realization wash over him. No – Odaka didn’t mean…?
“You must be familiar with the name Flashy Flash?” Odaka smiled and nodded at Sonic’s lack of response. “I reckon you have. I’m sure we’re not the only ones who want him out of our way. But you, my boy…you’re the only one left I trust to get it done. It’s now or never.”
Sonic still didn’t say anything, his mind racing. Odaka proceeded to open the briefcase and pull out several stacks of bills, setting them before Sonic. “I always promise half up front, that’s my rule. How does ¥2 million sound?”
Sonic’s jaw dropped at the amount of money being placed in front of him. ¥2 million…that was more than enough to pay for a new katana, probably dozens of them, and then some. Hell, he wouldn’t have to take another job for months. All that time to train, to defeat Saitama…
“All you have to do is kill Flashy Flash.”
Right. That.
“I understand if you’re hesitant; you’re a smart one, Speed O’ Sound,” Odaka continued. “You can take some time, think about it—”
“I’ll do it,” Sonic said firmly, glaring at the man before him. “My skills are easily superior to his. This will be an easy task. I look forward to his blood on my hands.”
Odaka removed his sunglasses, revealing dark, bloodthirsty eyes. “Atta boy,” he grinned. He pushed the money towards his newfound assassin. “The other 2 million is to be paid upon completion. We’re on a time crunch here, son, so I’ll give you 72 hours. I have total faith in you, Sonic. We’ll meet here in 3 days’ time, and I want his head on this table then.” Odaka outstretched his hand for Sonic to shake.
Wordlessly, Sonic grabbed the man’s hand, and they shook to seal the deal. Sonic took the wad of bills and stuffed them awkwardly in his pocket, his heart pounding.
“3 days! Don’t disappoint me, now!” Odaka called out after him.
Sonic darted out into the night, the sun now almost completely set, the memories of his past coming to the surface and fueling his desire to get this job done and over with.