Chapter Text
Matsukawa Issei is an assassin.
For the past 4 years, he has had this perverse choice of career on what he claims is his own accord and will. To Issei, what started as a small desperation for some semblance of wealth had quickly burgeoned into a full-blown obsession with gaining money.
He wasn’t all bad, of course—he didn’t just kill random people for money—he worked for a company. Official and all.
The company in question, Nekoma is a not-so-ethical organization that seemingly ‘hires’ assassins out of the blue to kill the rich and take their money. Naturally, there's a lot to it. Rather than just killing, the very sagacious corporation has found ways to get the ins and outs of each and every operation, having countless backups, and agents working hard to cover any loose ends.
Issei was one of the few ordained members of the organization, being able to put his humanity aside to taint his hands with blood. The single check he receives after every operation is enough to fuel him with more drive to persist on his ‘career’.
While Issei recklessly took most operations before the limited remaining amount of assassins could, the company scrambled to keep up. No one who worked for Nekoma had ever had the insane drive for money that Issei had, which was quite ironic as the whole purpose of the company was taking money from the rich.
Issei never owed the founders—two dichotomous men that are better known as Kuro Testuro and Kozume Kenma—an explanation for why he was so bloodthirsty. He kept to himself, opting to spend most of his time planning out creative and cruel plans for each victim's life he claimed.
Today was special. Today was big, in fact. This assassination was going to be at a public event, taking place for the world to see, and so Issei couldn’t just kill and flee, he needed to handle this more creatively. He simply needed a vessel, a man who could easily be manipulated, someone who would wholeheartedly become Issei’s friend, and within the next 15 hours be ready to take the blame.
Consenting or not, the man would have no choice but to take the blame, because if Issei had a plan, it always followed through until the end.
With that said, he spent the past week crafting the perfect personality that he assumed would work for this specific task; a comfortable, relaxed man who wanted nothing more than to make a friend. Despite his meticulous research, he mostly neglected researching who he was going to exploit for his plans, he had laid a few meaningful glances at his files and concluded all the information he needed to.
When it comes to putting on a fake personality, none of that was new for Issei. Growing up, Issei was very used to concealing his feelings—a fact that probably played a huge part—though the idea of crediting his upbringing for anything never quite sat right with him. It’s not something he could simply flat out deny; no matter how hard he tried to move on, he simply couldn’t.
Issei knew full well every choice he made, and every mistake he greeted, had inevitably led him to where he is now. Though now it didn’t matter anymore; the thoughts he once contemplated, the decisions he once hesitated, they were all things he would do again and again.
It’s quite strange for someone to seemingly regret a decision that they would still make, though exceptions are always possible.
Issei alone is proof.
He was quick to learn that money blinds, it causes people to do bad, horrible things, greedily soaking in pointless possessions, not thinking twice. Issei is fine with that, because if the cost of his so-called moral compass was this infamous ‘pointless greed’, then he had gladly fallen victim to it.
Today was no different. Ahead of him stood another man of many, probably thinking he himself was the center of the universe. All the things humans convince themselves to feel validated.
This man in particular had what one could call a hard upbringing, though it was totally self-inflicted if seen through the eyes of anyone with an ounce of logic.
His files were a complete mess of failed loans and bankruptcies. His costly art school had probably dealt the same horrific debt on a college student as many others faced. Despite that, there were unfortunate exceptions, those being the people who can’t make anything out of the degrees they earn.
This man, as it seems, failed at photography. Somehow.
It doesn’t matter if he’s secretly astute and talented at taking, editing, and masking photos. If he couldn’t make a proper career out of it, then it was plain and simple. He failed.
Issei wasn’t here to pity this man today; he knew he had better reasons to feel remorse.
Hanamaki Takahiro, age 25, currently owes 2.3 million yen to Tokyo University of Arts for a 4-year degree in Fine Arts. He has a few social media accounts, he’s mainly found active on Instagram, where he posts his photography and occasionally editing processes for whoever cares enough to view his work. Not many clearly.
Hanamaki’s unsuccessful attempts at becoming a big shot photographer had blinded all his sense of logic and deluded him to continue chasing a quixotic dream.
As for Issei’s perspective, this rendered Hanamaki a rather easy victim.
A few words of flattery paired with feigned awe, and he would be reduced to another pawn in the long shot of Issei’s plan.
Through the past few years of being an assassin himself, Issei’s ideologies, to say the least, have changed.
To put it simply, death came easy to him at the sight of money.
Takahiro didn’t really understand why he was so worried, or at least he didn’t want to believe why. The way his heart thumped with adrenaline was bound to lead him into breaking yet another sweat within the last mere minutes of arriving at the café.
He ran one of his clammy hands down his slacks to dry off the spouting beads of sweat, pinching his own thigh in the process. He then squinted his eyes shut, trying desperately to rid himself of this idiotic hope that clings to him.
All his life, Takahiro had heard to never stop dreaming big and thinking the best for every situation; despite Takahiro staying true, by the lengths he's been pushed and the situations he dug himself into, many would have caved and given up.
‘New gig, new chance’, that's the mantra he has been telling himself for the past 2 years. It seemed to get the job done for the most part.
His hobby turned career didn't seem to do even the bare minimum of sustaining a living. For all he knows, he would be living under some trash-ridden bridge in the outskirts of the city if not for his close roommate Suna Rintaro who, to say the least, was a complete contrast to Takahiro when it came to their career paths.
His career path as a photographer was plenty more successful than Takahiro’s sorry excuse of a job. Big shot gigs, overflowing commissions, he was, to say the least, thriving.
Despite that, Takahiro isn't going to belittle his efforts any longer, no more! He's worked hard, always has, he has no intention of slowing down. He has a chance, tonight is going to change everything for him.
Just one picture is all he needs, one chance to prove he too can find success in the things he loves. This hope might waver from time to time, but it never goes out. Ever since he decided he wanted to become a photographer, it had only grown and flourished in Takahiro's persistent drive.
Snapping himself back to reality, he steadied his breath. Inhaling harshly through his nose, and exhaling right out with his mouth. Slowly, he opened his eyes, letting his vision adjust back from the splotchy blurs that clouded them. He finally felt his tense muscles relax.
Takahiro had almost forgotten his surroundings, the familiar café where he usually spent hours editing, refining and perfecting under-priced commissions. It was family-owned, located by Nobiru beach. He preferred quieter places to edit photos so he could focus, but also because they felt inspiring. Simply looking at the small waves clashing on the rocky sand, the loons, ducks and ospreys dominating the land, water and air. Even the occasional deer sporting its elegant patterns spurs that motivation.
Photography is one of those things that has so much potential everywhere, photos show and preserve things that not everyone can remember or see. The lighting, the cropping, the idea of being able to take a picture and narrow it to shed light on the things he wants to appear. It's rather enlightening for Takahiro.
As far as Takahiro’s personal favorite step in photography, it has to be editing. Many might call it cheating—alternating the photograph from what it already was—but it's much more. Editing can help bring focus to what really matters, it can take a basic picture and alter the way it makes a person feel.
Photos can look dreamy and light, or nostalgic. They can look ominous or disconcerting. Editing is the most versatile form of photography, and for Takahiro, it's the most important.
Even something as simple as this café can play a role and inspire.
Takahiro didn't exactly see himself as an overly meticulous person when it came to choosing his special spaces per se, rather he was always mindful of what worked well with him. Sometimes the simple detail of the atmosphere he was in could alter everything and cause him to make his editing adapt to that vibe.
This café felt neutral. It felt safe. It kept Takahiro's mind blank and fresh, allowing him to pour all his focus and effort into the single task at hand.
He hadn't stepped in line to order anything yet, but he didn't believe he would be getting much today specifically. Planning to get an unusually small serving of 10 profiteroles, he finally felt his mind go to peace.
Giving himself a few quick breaths, Issei made his way towards Hanamaki.
Throughout the files that he was given regarding Hanamaki, the lack of pictures was very evident. The wordy synthesis was partly why he opted for skimming the files rather than doing the logical thing—that being a deep read—especially for such an important operation.
Issei did reluctantly force himself to read the physical description, however, due to the lack of photos, plenty was left to the imagination.
Based on the most up-to-date information that Nekoma could get their hands on, Hanamaki was around 187cm tall and weighed around 75kg. His hair was described as auburn colored with brow length bangs surrounding his head.
Quite a peculiar looking man, if Issei was basing off looks entirely, but that's how he found himself standing approximately 2 feet away from the closest match he could conclude.
Any lingering doubt was also washed away with the noticeable camera peeking out of his messenger bag.
Issei took one more long step closer, stretching his gloved hand towards Hanamaki’s idle wrist. Within the mere seconds, his delicate fingers swiftly enveloped his wrist.
The scene was set up, and the act was ready to go into play. Up until now everything was fairly predictable, though there wasn't much to go off of, it was still something.
Now, this is the part where Hanamaki is slightly caught off guard, turns around and oh so kindly asks Issei if he needs anything. Issei, being the kind fan, will introduce himself, strike a conversation and find the first opening to become Hanamaki’s friend. Naturally Hanamaki will jump at the opportunity being the lonely man he is, and boom, full trust in Issei. From there Issei will be able to do his own thing, planting the needed evidence then successfully manipulating Hanamaki within at least a 14-hour time period. Easy money!
Instead, the second his fingers encircled Hanamaki’s wrist, the wrist was just as quickly yanked away with alarming force, deeming Issei’s minimal efforts futile. Issei’s eyes darted quickly towards where Hanamaki’s face should be and witnessed the man gracelessly turn away and towards Issei’s direction.
Satisfying whatever form of curiosity Issei might have had, he was finally granted a face to the name.
The face in question had a wide range of emotions.
Painted on the face of the man right before him was a unique mixture of paranoia, confusion, agitation, and possibly a hint of embarrassment if looked at hard enough. Which was exactly what Issei was doing.
Being an assassin meant that not only had Issei become skillful in dissimulation, but also at reading others.
With that said, he took note of the mutual face study session that seemed to be going on with Hanamaki, who seemed to be a lot more palpable than Issei.
It almost felt shameful for Issei to see right through the unintentional transparency, but alas, it's only another part of the job he had gotten used to over time.
Issei felt it would be wise to wait for Hanamaki to break the silence.
While many who might find themselves in a situation such as Issei’s would immediately spill a plethora of apologies and over-exaggerated excuses and explanations; Issei learned over time that in some cases that could build a wall.
Trying to excuse suspicious behavior only makes it more suspicious. If the silence stretches this long, then the opposing person will not only feel obligated to break it, but also to reevaluate themselves and most likely conclude that their own actions were the flawed ones.
While it might seem like a stretch, Issei had seen it time and time again, he was sure today would be no different.
It's human nature, after all.
But still. Hanamaki already surprised Issei once, he couldn't simply let his guard down. The way the man reacted was unsettlingly fast.
Issei couldn't shake the feeling of the way Hanamaki looked at him when he first turned. Something past all the confusion and embarrassment.
While certainly, his blown wide eyes would easily lead anyone to believe it was just him being startled. To Issei it felt like more. Something in the flair of his nostrils, the quirk of his eyebrows, the way his lips were firmly pressed together.
But most importantly, his hands.
The yank was so fast Issei could barely process it, and yet, Hanamaki's whole face for that lingering moment felt prepared. Issei almost had to catch himself from grabbing it back, as if he was trying to rewrite the way the scene was supposed to play out.
Shit, why am I overthinking this!?
It had to have been a few seconds since everything played out. Any second now, Hanamaki is going to break the silence, and apologize for the overreaction. Things will resume to how they're supposed to be. In 24 hours this will be over, Issei had nothing to be hasty about.
With that, Issei pushed away any form of ambivalence which might have even for a mere second crossed his mind and waited.
Issei was good at waiting, especially when he knew what was going to happen.
Takahiro has a very long, incredibly disturbing list of the most embarrassing things he's ever done in his life. He was sure some could qualify for the top worst moments in human history from the sheer amount of secondhand embarrassment people are surely to receive from them.
Whether it was going to school with stained clothes, falling into a huge puddle in front of his crush, projectile vomiting after trying to down a whole gallon of salted water for a bet. He had done it all and more.
Fortunately for him, he's been able to tone it down within the last few years, being more mindful and aware of himself before he does something.
With that said, he will unfortunately have to endure the times when his mind blanks and his body simply decides to make a complete and total fool of himself.
He's noticed this especially on days when he feels the pressure or stress from something in his external life, totaled with the fact that he had binged a shit ton of spy thrillers throughout the past week.
He was positively sure that he looked hysterical, making a scene in the middle of a café this early in the morning was bound to raise concern for passers-by.
And as if the situation couldn't get any worse, the man he had just magnetically repelled himself from was sexy as hell. To say the least, he really had done it now.
Great going Takahiro, way to start off an already stressful day.
Painted on the man's face was what Takahiro can only convince himself is an expression full of endearment, which was already a stretch. Takahiro even considered pinching himself again to make sure this was really happening.
Aside from the expression, his eyes were very sharp and elegant, his oversized eyebrows were relaxed peacefully above his gargantuan eyelids, and his lips were curled slightly upwards. He looked awfully polite—again—too good to be true.
His hair was thick, curly and black, a slight bang on the left side of his face was permed.
The outfit he was sporting was a whole other story. Takahiro was sure he had seen characters in one of the recent spy thrillers wear something disturbingly similar.
A silk black button up, topped with a linen black blazer and black dress pants to match. An evergreen tie was complemented with the white gloves that had embroidery akin to the color of his tie.
What did this ethereal man want with Takahiro? Well, Takahiro had no damn idea, what he did know was that this is a sign.
Along the wide list of embarrassing things Takahiro has accomplished, one thing he is yet to get right is a relationship. If he was being honest, juggling an education and relationships wasn't for him, but it's not like he needed to worry about that now.
While yes tonight was going to be life changing, he didn't quite know how necessary it would be to mentally prepare himself for 15 consecutive hours, a little fun couldn't hurt.
That, including the fact that this beautiful opportunity is approaching him? Fumbling was not an option.
Choosing his words wisely to cover up for that godawful first impression he just demonstrated, Takahiro was feeling an overwhelming sense of certitude.
“Oh man, I'm so sorry about that, I don't know what came over me there for a second, please excuse my hostility.”
The man's relaxed face seemed to somehow relax even more, but before Takahiro could make anything of it, his hand was taken into a very warm handshake.
“Are you Mr. Hanamaki? I didn't think I would ever get the chance to meet you, but man, it's such an honor!”
Huh, well it seems like Takahiro didn't need to say much for the man to get comfortable, apparently he hit the luck lottery today or something.
“Oh, you know me?”
“Oh my where are my manners! I'm Matsukawa Issei, though Issei is just fine, I'm not really a fanatic for formalities. I’m a huge fan of your work!”
A fan…?
Hanamaki Takahiro has a fan?
Well sure he occasionally posted his works and editing process videos on his socials like Instagram, but they never really performed that well. It didn't bother him that much in particular, he mainly told himself that it was meant to document the works rather than blow up overnight.
Despite that, he couldn't help but smile to himself, a sense of pride overcame him. It was the simple idea of something he is passionate about being appreciated by others, the thing he loves being seen and recognized.
"A fan you say?" Takahiro finally breathed out.
Takahiro sensed himself suddenly paying more attention to Issei, trying to figure out more about the man by simply looking at him. The way his tired eyes laid perfectly on his face, his smile being just as relaxed. How his face looked so calm and gentle, everything about him just looked so damn peaceful. Takahiro was so lost in thought as per usual that he failed to notice Issei's hand slip away from their awkward handshake.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, really! Honestly—"
Before Issei could finish, he was caught off guard by his hand being brought back into the handshake with Takahiro.
Takahiro himself seemed startled by his own actions, he didn't care if he looked weird, all he knew was that he enjoyed the feeling of Issei's hand holding onto his. It's just a handshake, right? Nothing could possibly be any less intimate, that is unless the two wanted it to be… right?
The two men awkwardly laughed as they smiled idiotically at each other, hypnotized by this handshake that wouldn't let itself end, like it was the sole string to keeping their interaction going.
"As I was saying, do you… want to talk for a bit? It's just that it's not every day you get to see your inspiration and all. Though if your busy I completely understand—"
"Of course!" Takahiro practically shouted, "I mean, like yeah sure, we could totally chat for a bit... I wouldn't mind."
Takahiro knew he was probably ignoring boundaries that he should have set up long ago, especially if he just met this man. Despite that he couldn't bring himself to, not when things were going so well, not when he was already going to make something out of himself today.
Things are finally going his way, who is he to deny himself of this guileless reassurance.
Issei was honestly dumbstruck by that whole first interaction, it had to have been the fastest he's ever won someone over with an act of his.
The man practically folded at the opportunity to become friends with and spend time with Issei, which was awfully concerning considering the fact that they just met not even 5 minutes ago.
It's not like that was a complete surprise to Issei, it was simply the fact that it had all occurred so fast that caught him off guard. He decided it would be best if he opted from dwelling on this for too long and to just proceed from where he left off.
Takahiro appeared to be beaming, his grin stretching from ear to ear before he broke the comfortable silence.
"So what type of food do you like? I was just about to order something light for myself, but I think seeing you made my appetite increase, y'know?" Takahiro stated in one breath, it almost looked like he was puffing out his chest… and wiggling his eyebrows!?
OH.
In all of Issei's years of being an assassin, he's seen all types of people, really.
He's had to deal with skeptics who take forever to unknowingly cooperate with Issei. Rude and moody people who want nothing to do with Issei even when he attempts to present himself in the best possible way. Along with overly nice people who seem to get along with Issei, usually the ones that take the biggest mental toll on him. There have even been those who are generally not good people, and to some extent deserve to be taken advantage of the way Issei does to others.
But never—seriously never— has someone acted this way, and so by processes of elimination Issei was able to rule out a majority of these archetypes.
With that said, it didn't take him long to realize why Hanamaki was acting this way, it was a fact so absurd that Issei didn't know whether it would be appropriate to find it hilarious or horrific.
Hanamaki Takahiro was flirting.
Behind his calm and collected demeanor, it soon became obvious that Hanamaki's mind was racing with the thrill of crushing on someone.
As much as Issei knew this would make the mission a lot more difficult mentally, it's nothing he hasn't been able to overcome. It's not like he's ever developed a genuine soft spot for victims that lasted over 2 days. This mission will be over before the sun rises once again, he didn't need to litter his mind with such pointless worries.
He'll play along. What's the worst that could happen?
Finally pulling himself from his train of thought, Issei gave Takahiro a gentle smile.
"You don't have to, really, I wouldn't want to burden you."
"Burden? Nonsense, it would be my pleasure to treat a cute guy like you! Refuse me all you want, but I don't think you can get rid of me so easily now."
He's really going in on it, isn't he.
Issei scoffed but still found himself smiling, this was amusing to say the least.
"Well, if you really insist so, but don't think I won't get back at you for this, next time it's going to be on me."
"Oh..? Next time, you say? Seems like you're already planning ahead for our fantastic and extraordinary dates in the future." Takahiro remarked, visibly relaxing, "I'll make sure to exchange numbers with you now so you don't have to materialize into my vicinity before our next meetup."
"Slick, though you say that as if it was my fault you reacted that way."
"Well yeah it kinda was? Because of you I was twirling around like a ballerina in the middle of this café."
"What's wrong with ballerinas? They're pretty cool if you ask me"
"So you're saying I looked pretty cool when I repelled like 3 feet away from you?"
"I don't recall being the one to compare you to a ballerina, that was you. If you ask me, you looked more like one of those spinney top thingies for a moment there."
"Like Bey-blades? Those are pretty cool."
"Nah, I'm talking about those ones you get at arcades."
"Well Issei, if you want to contribute to the very noble cause of preventing me from making a rare fool of myself in public, let's consider not sneaking up on me like a damn navy seal."
"Noted," Issei concluded with a smirk. "Well, since you're so kind as to treat me to breakfast this fine morning, I think I'll consider ordering the whole menu, yeah?"
"Hey, hey, easy on me, it's only been our first 10 or so minutes of knowing each other, save all of that for like.. our fourth or fifth date or something."
"Thinking pretty far ahead are we?"
"I like to think of myself as a pretty committed man, if that's not your jazz then I suggest you inform me now rather than later before it would be too weird, not that I mind weird." Takahiro spoke before winking.
Issei was quick to notice the uncertainty that laced his confident words, "how about we just see how today goes, sound good?"
"Well, we can spend most of the day hanging out if that's fine, I got a gig at 9 and probably need to pick up my suit from the laundromat at around 7:30."
"A suit? This must be really important and serious then."
"It is." Takahiro replied quickly, suddenly sounding more serious.
"I'm not one to flaunt these things, but I will say tonight's big, if everything goes the way it needs to, expect to find my works on media other than mine."
Issei didn't need to ask, he knew exactly what Takahiro was talking about, and he knew exactly what was going to happen. If things went the way Issei needed them to go, then without a doubt, Takahiro will indeed make headlines.
Instead, he said, "enlighten me."
Takahiro brightened up, looking as though this was the only answer he wanted to hear.
"Let's get food first, then I can tell you everything you need to know." Grinning from ear to ear, Takahiro pulled Issei's wrist with him to the line.
The hard part passed, the rest of this should be easy, all Issei needs to tell himself from now is the reassurance that he is in control. Because he is.
Despite that, he couldn't quite explain the heaviness in his chest, watching Takahiro brightly go about, fully trusting Issei.
Yet once again, all he needed to do was envision the money he will be receiving, the wealth he will relish in once this is all over.
After all, Issei never really got enough of it, and he probably never will.