Archive of Our Own

Their first meeting goes as smoothly as it possibly could, considering that they’re working for different sides. Ryousuke has been tailing his mark for a week, familiarizing himself with the man’s routine. He noticed the second tail on the fifth day, and at the time he was a bit disgusted with himself for not noticing sooner. However, it soon became apparent that it wasn’t anything done wrong on his part—the other agent is quite good in his own right, nearly as good as Ryousuke himself.

Almost as good, but not quite. Ryousuke got here first, so he has a head start on surveillance. He finishes his observation and moves on to the last part of the job. While his mark is gone, tailed by the other operative, Ryousuke breaks into the house and searches it with practiced ease. He doesn’t find much—only some mildly interesting documents and a hard drive in a hidden wall safe—but then, he didn’t expect to, anyway. He’s here to tie up loose ends more than anything else. He takes the files and the drive, but he doesn’t see anything left to be gained from the mark unless he resorts to interrogation. Under normal circumstances, he might do that, but with an unknown agent watching, Ryousuke won’t risk it. With that, he only has one task remaining. There’s no sense in waiting, so he takes up his position on the roof across the street and waits for his mark to return.

When Ryousuke puts a bullet through the man’s head as he tries to unlock his front door, the other agent looks to the rooftops immediately, following the bullet’s trajectory with impressive ease. Ryousuke knows he’s been spotted in the thirty seconds it takes him to slip his rifle into his bag and vacate the roof. Still, he thinks he’ll get away easily. The man on the ground is good, but Ryousuke is better.

He’s not counting on the sheer speed the agent displays. He appears at the mouth of the alley as Ryousuke drops from the fire escape, impossibly quick on his feet, and Ryousuke realizes his mistake—there’s only one way out of the alley unless he wants to try his luck at long-jumping between rooftops. Damn. He hadn’t planned for this scenario.

“Who are you? Who are you working for?” is the first thing out of the agent’s mouth.

Okay. Ryousuke can work with this.

He merely smirks and continues walking. The agent tenses as he approaches, feet sliding into a more combative stance.

“You suck at this,” Ryousuke chirps, enjoying the baffled look the agent gives him. “You didn’t even know I was here, did you?”

The agent scowls, but doesn’t deny it. More importantly, his body language relaxes, becoming less alert. “He was mine,” he mutters, and Ryousuke can’t help but chuckle at the childishness of the retort.

“All’s fair,” he says blithely, and walks right past the agent without the slightest resistance. Ryousuke’s gone before the other man can react.

So, perhaps it’s more accurate to say that their first meeting goes smoothly for Ryousuke. It is undoubtedly a bit more frustrating for Kuramochi.

Youichi’s nearly forgotten about the smirking menace who shot his target the next time they meet. This time, it’s an easy in-and-out intel mission for Youichi. He has to case the building and gather data about guard schedules, visitor patterns, exit points, and the like, but the target itself is inanimate, which means he can hopefully avoid unforeseen complications. Youichi likes a good challenge, but he has nothing against a simpler mission.

So when he notices a rather familiar-looking man in a nondescript beanie at a small café in the vicinity of his target, Youichi thinks he can be forgiven for swearing to himself. He sweeps his eyes over the area again, invisible behind the blinds of his third-floor apartment. Now that he’s looking, he easily spots the operative’s likely target—a middle-aged woman with something sharp about her. She’s a frequent visitor to the café, from what Youichi has observed about the general area, and he’d noted her in his earlier surveillance. He had dismissed her as unimportant to his mission after further observation, but he’s fairly certain it’s her. Youichi watches more carefully for a few minutes, and he sees the operative’s eyes stray back to her more often than anyone else in the café.

Youichi isn’t pleased by the agent’s presence, but he turns back to the task at hand. The woman in the café isn’t his current concern, and if he checks for them every so often, it’s nothing—just keeping tabs on a potential complication.

His mission goes off without a hitch. For once, it’s the easy in-and-out infiltration and theft that he was told it would be. It’s nice, but he can’t stick around long after getting his intel. Normally, that wouldn’t be the slightest problem, and Youichi would just skip town. His curiosity is getting the better of him, though. Truthfully, it has been ever since he noticed the other operative. He’s been watching, and he thinks he’s worked out what the other man is doing.

Youichi considers tailing the agent back to his hideout for only a moment before discarding the idea. On his previous mission, he never noticed the other agent until the moment he had fired the shot that killed their mutual mark. Youichi isn’t naïve enough to believe he could tail him without being made. Youichi doesn’t think he’s been noticed so far, but they are running very different missions.

He tails the woman instead, keeping as much distance as he can without losing her entirely. She lives farther from the café than he expected, given the frequency of her visits there. For Youichi, it’s only a confirmation of his suspicions. The café is a live drop location, and the woman is another agent. He’s even narrowed down who her contact must be. There was an out-of-place waiter he noticed on the first day of surveillance, the only person he recalls the woman ever speaking to. He hasn’t seen the man since, and the other agent wasn’t there to see that drop. If the agent knows who to follow, he must be waiting for the contact so he can swoop in and poach information. Youichi’s done a few missions like that himself.

It’s none of Youichi’s business, honestly. His mission is complete. He should just leave town. But he can’t help recalling the agent’s cheerful tone as he said, “You suck at this.”

Youichi is above trying to prove him wrong just for the sake of doing it, he tells himself. His pride and his curiosity are not good enough reasons to stay in the city or to blow his cover.

Still, that doesn’t stop him from looking for the agent and falling into step next to him. It’s not about his pride, he tells himself. His agency should really know who this guy is. Youichi is gathering information. “Intel mission, huh?” he says. He smirks when he sees the other man’s spine stiffen slightly.

The agent sighs, perfectly composed. “The same target again? How embarrassing.”

Youichi grins. “Nah. I’m just passing through. Still curious about who you’re working for, though.” He won’t be curious for long. The man’s hat has slipped, just a little bit—just enough to reveal a stray curl of pink hair.

The man smirks, just as he had in the alley when they last met. “If you can’t figure that out, you’re worse at this than I thought.”

Youichi just laughs and turns at the next intersection, leaving the agent behind. He cheerfully runs an anti-surveillance pattern through the city for an hour before finally clearing out.

As far as Youichi’s concerned, he’s won this round. With an identifying feature as distinctive as pink hair, he should be able to find out who this mysterious operative is and who he’s working for.

They don’t have much information on him, and what little they do have mostly confirms what Youichi already knows. The man is highly skilled, highly dangerous, and very interesting. “Kominato Ryousuke, huh?”

Youichi wouldn’t be surprised if they met again.

Ryousuke’s rather fond of this kind of job.

He sweeps into the formal party like he’s a head taller than he actually is. Immaculate suit, styled hair, shiny shoes. He spots his target almost immediately, across the room. He’ll have to meander through the party, mingling appropriately with the people he passes, but that’s fine. Ryousuke doesn’t get this kind of mission often, but he is very good at them.

He winds through the crowd, chatting easily with men in gold cufflinks and women in sparkling diamonds. When one knows the language, it’s easy to slip into their ranks without truly belonging.

Everything is going according to plan right up until the moment Ryousuke glances over to check on his mark and sees him speaking to someone else.

Miyuki Kazuya is at this party.

Ryousuke did a little independent research into Kuramochi’s organization after their second meeting. After all, it seemed odd that they would meet twice, so close together. After digging into Kuramochi’s background, Ryousuke is more surprised that they haven’t encountered one another before. Kuramochi Youichi’s job is the same as Ryousuke’s: infiltrator, operative, and assassin. The man speaking to Ryousuke’s target had come up multiple times in Ryousuke’s search.

Miyuki Kazuya’s role is similar to theirs, but not precisely the same. Ryousuke has never encountered him in the field before, but he certainly knows Miyuki’s name. He’s high profile within their world, which has its pros and cons. He isn’t as covert as Ryousuke, but often, his visibility gets the job done just as well, without the messiness of an assassination. He’s skilled, certainly, a con man of the highest order, and his rather nasty reputation is well earned.

More importantly, he very rarely works alone. Ryousuke lingers for a few moments, adjusting his cufflink to cover his sweep of the room. His first look uncovers nothing, so he continues moving through the crowd. Changing his pattern will draw unfriendly eyes. He adjusts his course to avoid meeting Miyuki, inwardly sighing over the loss of a perfectly choreographed chance meeting with his mark. It can’t be helped, though—Ryousuke has to identify Miyuki’s colleagues before he can make any moves.

He emerges from the crowd on the far side of the room, where the refreshments are arrayed along the wall. Ryousuke pauses to collect a small plate, using his survey of the table to disguise another sweep of the crowd.

And there he is, standing down the long table and watching the crowd. Kuramochi Youichi is dressed just as sharply as anyone else at the party, which probably explains why Ryousuke didn’t spot him immediately. He looks less out of place than Ryousuke would have expected, with his delinquent hair slicked down and his rough appearance curbed.

Damn. Kuramochi’s appearance well and truly derails Ryousuke’s plans. Unlike Miyuki, Kuramochi would probably recognize him on sight, though Ryousuke’s hair color might throw him off initially. There isn’t much Ryousuke can do about this, unless he can take down both of them without being seen clearly.

This complicates his plan, but he might be able to salvage it. His real goal is the man’s office, not the man himself. His intel isn’t complete, though, and he was planning on filling the gaps in his knowledge by coaxing his mark into a more private meeting. Ryousuke has no doubt that he could finish the mission, given time, but he’d have to spend far longer in the office than he initially intended. With Miyuki in the game, evidently planning the same thing, Ryousuke doesn’t know how much time he has. If it isn’t enough, he’ll be caught.

The least risky option is to scrap the mission. His intel did not account for a simultaneous operation by hostile agents. He has no backup, and he can’t afford to have his cover blown here.

On the other hand, Ryousuke has survived in this business as long as he has by never giving up. His failed missions are few and far between, and he knows the consequences. He’s still alive because he’s the best, and that’s not a title that can be claimed without blood and sweat.

Ryousuke drifts away from the table and continues his meandering progress through the crowd, this time in a different direction. With luck, he’ll make it out quickly, but just in case, he plans for another scenario. If he can’t get to his target, he’ll simply have to arrange it so that his target comes to him.

Youichi dislikes this kind of job.

Contrary to what Miyuki thinks, it’s not because of the suit. Sure, the shoes are inconvenient and uncomfortable and the jacket is too constricting for real fieldwork, but Youichi understands the importance of dressing for the job.

No—Youichi’s problem with this type of mission comes from his own role in them. He’s always paired with Miyuki for them, and his job is usually just to watch the room and intercept threats. It’s not like it doesn’t make sense; Miyuki’s much smoother and more polished than Youichi is. He’s simply better suited for the task at hand. It’s even fun to watch him work, when Youichi is actually close enough to hear what’s happening. Miyuki has a way with words that’s hilarious when Youichi isn’t on the receiving end. As it is, he’s lingering by the snack table, watching the crowd and trading meaningless polite words with the occasional guest who comes his way.

Frankly, it’s boring, and Youichi can think of a lot of things he’d rather be doing with his time.

There aren’t any complications, which—while uninteresting—is a good thing in their line of work. Miyuki successfully charms the mark into a private meeting. They head for the man’s office, Youichi casually trailing them from a distance. As they disappear into the office, he takes up his post nearby, still keeping watch.

It isn’t anything so obvious as a scream that alerts Youichi that something isn’t right. It’s a faint crash, barely audible from where he’s standing, but it shouldn’t be there. Youichi darts down the hallway and throws open the door.

Miyuki is unconscious on the floor. The mark is kneeling next to him with his hands up and a knife against his throat.

Kominato Ryousuke smirks at Youichi, impeccably dressed in a dark suit, looking completely unruffled by the confrontation. “We can’t keep meeting like this,” he says airily, and Youichi has to hold back a growl.

“Why are you here?” he grits out.

“Oh, for the same reason as you, I’m sure.” Youichi casts another glance at Miyuki’s body, and Kominato hums. “He’s not dead. No one has to be, really. I’m willing to compromise.” He smiles, all sharp edges and casual menace. “Where is it?”

The man they’re all after trembles as he answers. “In my pocket.”

Despite himself, Youichi snorts at that. All this trouble, and he had it on his person? Even without getting into security concerns, that’s just ridiculous.

Kominato palms whatever was in his pocket so smoothly Youichi almost misses it, even looking right at him. “Password protection, I assume.”

The man gulps. “I—I can’t give you the passwords, I can’t—”

“That’s fine.” Kominato delivers a chop to the back of the neck that makes the man drop unconscious halfway through his sentence. “We’ve got people for that.”

 Youichi sets his stance, readying himself for the confrontation they never got around to having the first time.

Kominato just smirks at him. “You’re so eager to resort to violence, Kuramochi.”

Youichi grits his teeth, but doesn’t answer.

Kominato shrugs. “Have it your way.” He strikes.

Youichi jumps back. Fuck, the knife.

Kominato’s quick. He pushes his advantage, shoves Youichi back.

Youichi drops, rolls, goes for a knife of his own. He brings it up just in time to deflect Kominato’s blade with a ringing clash. Kominato’s eyes widen slightly.

Youichi grins. He’s faster.

It’s not enough. Youichi’s quicker, but Kominato’s a little better. Youichi goes down with a stab wound in his thigh, left leg collapsing under him.

Kominato laughs as he trips lightly out the door, just out of Youichi’s reach.

Just like that, he’s gone again, leaving Youichi with an unconscious host, an unconscious partner, a heavily bleeding knife wound, and nothing to show for any of it.

Honestly, fuck him.

His hand slips, glass shatters across the floor, and now Ryousuke’s pissed.

What kind of stone-cold, hardened assassin drops his fucking scope?

But here he is. He’s officially down one sniper scope, and it’s his own damn fault. “How inconvenient,” he murmurs to himself, nudging the glass shards with his shoe and reining in his anger so he can think through his options. He’s going to have to either find a new one fast, or finish the mission without it. He’s far enough into the job that postponing it is not an option.

The question is, will he be able to find a weapons dealer in Shanghai quickly enough to make it worth doing mid-mission? He can call in to ask where to find one, but he’d need to break radio silence to do that, and he makes it a point not to check in until he’s finished his missions. Calling in early would be unusual enough that he would probably have to explain how he’d lost his scope in the first place.

That settles it for him. He’ll do this job without the scope, and find a weapons dealer on his own afterward. He’s not telling his superiors that he lost his scope by dropping it.

Nodding firmly to himself, Ryousuke takes another look at his weapons and reorganizes his plan to take down this particular mark. It’s been a while since he’s used his knives on a target. Knives are versatile and precise, and that’s exactly what he’s going to need if he wants to finish this in time to replace his scope without his superiors finding out about it.

Youichi’s in transit.

He’s none too fond of planes, because the security is tight enough that he’s always worried about being identified. So far, his aliases have always been airtight, and he’s never been subjected to even a random search, but he still doesn’t like it. Flying for a job also means it’s much easier to pick up an entire arsenal at his destination, rather than simply bringing his own along. It’s standard operating procedure, but he still hates it. He feels naked without his weapons.

He makes it out of the airport with no problems. Things are going smoothly, but he still won’t feel comfortable again until he has at least a couple of knives hidden on him. There’s a weapons dealer in Shanghai he’s gone to before. Sachiko does good work, and she doesn’t ask questions.

He can’t go straight for her, of course. It takes him nearly three hours just to wind through to her part of the city. He won’t bring anyone to her door; it’s just professional courtesy.

She smiles when she sees him. “Ah, hello there. Looking for something specific?”

She’s very professional and very well-stocked. It isn’t long before Youichi has everything he needs. He knows Sachiko doesn’t miss the way his stance relaxes when he tucks the knives away in his clothes, but he also knows she understands.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” she tells him sincerely as he pays. He believes her. His line of work has expensive tools, and she’s just made a tidy profit.

He heads out and nearly collides with another man outside. “Oh, sorry,” he says, stepping back—and that’s when he notices the pink hair just visible under the baseball cap.

Kominato Ryousuke smirks at him. “We just seem destined to meet, time after time, don’t we? Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something.”

“You,” Youichi snarls. “Do you know what kind of situation you left me in?” He clenches his fists, fighting the desire to grab Kominato by the throat right here in the middle of the street.

Kominato shrugs. “I did my job. Yours just happened to get in the way. You’re no rookie, Kuramochi. You know how this business works.”

Youichi scowls. Kominato’s right, and he knows it. That doesn’t make it any less infuriating. “Whatever. Just tell me we’re not on the same job again.”

Kominato laughs. “I don’t think so. Mine’s already done.” He nods at the door Youichi just exited. “Umemoto?”

“Yeah.” Youichi shifts slightly so Kominato can pass him without either of them having to turn his back on the other.

Kominato nods to him as he slips by and heads for the door. “See you next time,” he says, with the same irritating smirk he always wears.

Youichi rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” He hopes not.

Ryousuke walks into the motel dressed unremarkably, with a beanie pulled low over his hair. It’s inconvenient to have such a distinctive identifying feature, but he isn’t going to dye it brown, no matter how much his superiors “recommend” it. Inconspicuous hair would be easier to deal with in the field, he knows, but he’s set his feet on this issue. He can’t give in now.

He books a room for a week and stays in the building just long enough to drop his personal bag off. He’ll keep his work bag with him for the duration of the mission.

The mission itself is relatively uncomplicated. His target is high-profile, and he knows he’ll need to evade security, but he’s dealt with that before. The kind of people who end up on the wrong end of an assassin’s weapons tend to know that they need protection.

Ryousuke casually walks by his mark’s townhouse, looking around at the buildings with the oblivious wonder of a tourist. It’s a convenient excuse to study the terrain and make some quick decisions about how he’s going to handle the job. Ryousuke prefers a high vantage point and a sniper’s nest, but he’s practical enough to take other options if they’re easier. Fortunately, in this particular case, it looks like his rifle is his best choice.

Someone bumps him. “Oh, sorry,” the person says in the perfunctory tone of a man who isn’t paying any attention.

“My bad,” Ryousuke murmurs. He slips past and turns the next corner.

That man was Isashiki Jun, and he works for the same organization as Miyuki Kazuya and Kuramochi Youichi.

Damn it.

Ryousuke’s job just got exponentially more complicated. Now, he’ll need to determine their numbers and their purpose to ensure that he can carry out his own mission without interference. The fact that he ran into Isashiki right outside his target’s home doesn’t bode well, either.

Ryousuke sighs. Time to get to work.

Youichi understands the value of having an assassin on bodyguard duty. He really does. To catch a thief, and all that. It’s still boring.

Well, no, actually, it’s worse than that. It’s boring, and it makes him twitchy. He knows all the likeliest ways to carry out a hit around here, and it makes him more paranoid than usual. Youichi knows from experience that paranoid and bored are a bad combination.

It could be worse, though. He’s with Isashiki this time. That’s nice. He’s never minded Isashiki. They think the same way about a lot of things. Isashiki’s senior to him, too, which means Youichi doesn’t have to deal with the client. He’s free to concentrate on keeping everyone alive.

So, Youichi is usually the one who does perimeter checks, inspects cars, and precedes the client into public spaces. He gets to keep his gun at his hip, fully visible and easily accessible. He has an earpiece and sunglasses. He’s even allowed to wear a leather jacket, so overall the job’s really not that bad.

Youichi’s thinking about this absently as he steps out the car and stops in his tracks. Behind him, Isashiki stiffens and hustles the client out of the car a little faster.

Something’s wrong.

It takes him a moment to figure out what, exactly, because he notices a lot of things that he doesn’t consciously focus on unless it’s important. It’s important now, and his eyes sweep back up to the rooftops. “Get down!” he barks as the first shot rings out.

Isashiki’s already on it. At Youichi’s shout, he grabs the client in a bear hug and dives into the alcove in front of the door. Youichi follows, rolling into cover on the other side of the door. The second shot hits brick, sending a spray of debris into the air. People are screaming and fleeing in the street. The client flinches, but stays admirably silent and composed in a way that makes Youichi think he’s probably been a target for assassination before.

“Where is he?” Isashiki demands.

“Rooftop, one o’clock. I saw the light reflecting off the scope.” Youichi pulls his gun from its holster. “Any ideas?”

“We have to get inside. We’re sitting ducks if he decides to come down here.”

“Yeah.” The problem with that plan is that the door itself is in plain sight. Right now, they’re hidden by the walls, but they can’t get inside without making themselves perfect targets. Youichi grabs his bandanna and waves it out into the open, to see if the sniper’s still there. The next shot comes instantly, and the bandanna falls away in shreds. Fuck, he’s fast.

“Kuramochi.” Isashiki holds something up.

Youichi feels the feral grin spread across his face. “You have smoke bombs?”

“Get ready.” Isashiki sets the first one off, releasing dense green smoke into the air. As soon as it’s thick enough that the sniper won’t see them moving, Isashiki hustles the client into the townhouse, tossing another smoke canister to Youichi as they go by. “I’ll call for backup, keep him occupied!”

Youichi takes a deep breath, making a face at the smoke, and draws his gun, aiming by memory at a target he can’t see.

The smoke starts to dissipate. Youichi squints through it, looking…for…

There. Youichi fires at the glint of light on a scope.

The light vanishes, but Youichi has no way of knowing if it’s a hit or a miss.

No more shots come. Youichi breaks cover. “I’m in pursuit!” he yells to Isashiki as he darts out of the doorway and down the deserted street.

“Kuramochi!” Isashiki roars from inside, but he can’t stop him. No one catches Youichi when he’s running, and Isashiki has to stay with the client anyway.

Youichi spots movement at street level—a small man with a duffel bag, moving awkwardly, like he’s injured, and wearing a beanie.

He knows before he even sees the sniper’s face.

Kominato Ryousuke meets his eyes, staring him down. There’s blood seeping through the fabric of his pants. Youichi’s still holding his gun. He could shoot this bastard down, right here and now, and take out a dangerous enemy operative and a threat to the current mission. It’s his call.

Kominato doesn’t run. He probably can’t, with that injury. He turns to face Youichi, head cocked as if to ask what are you doing to do?

You know how this business works, Kuramochi.

Youichi grits his teeth.

And he lowers his gun.

Kominato’s gone in seconds, limping away at top speed. Youichi watches for a moment to make sure he’s gone and then heads back to the townhouse to face Isashiki.

Youichi says the assassin got away. No, he didn’t get a clear look. Yes, the assassin was hit. No, Youichi doesn’t think he’ll be a problem again on this mission.

Kominato came out on top last time, and Youichi is still alive. He’ll return the favor, just once.

He hopes this doesn’t bite him in the ass later.

Something isn’t right about this job.

Ryousuke flips through his notebook again, frowning, and then he tears the pages out to lay them side by side. Nothing stands out, but he can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. Maybe it’s just the change in terrain—Egypt isn’t his usual hunting ground—but that doesn’t seem quite right either. Maybe it’s the presence of enemy agents, but even if Miyuki Kazuya is in the area, Ryousuke is 90% certain that his own presence has gone undetected.

The thought that maybe he should change safe houses crosses his mind, but he shakes it off. That’s impractical. He’s been here for nearly two weeks. If he changes locations now, he’ll have to begin his observations again, which is far riskier than simply staying here a few more hours until he can kill his target. He can’t make any mistakes on this job, not after his last shitshow of a mission. Central command will have his head if he screws this one up.

Still, Ryousuke doesn’t think he should feel this paranoid. He knows that ego can bring down even the most skilled agents, but he’s also objective enough to know he’s very good at his job. It’s a high-stakes mission for him, but if something is wrong, he should be able to handle it. If he can’t, it’s bad enough that changing safe houses isn’t going to help. He doesn’t have enough information to make a decision about this, so for now he simply has to move forward.

The uneasy feeling persists at the back of his mind, even as he checks his weapons again and packs away everything he doesn’t need on hand to finish the mission. He stands in the middle of the room for a moment, looking around one last time to make sure he hasn’t missed anything.

He shakes his head at himself and leaves the safe house. He traces a counter-surveillance pattern through the city, movements worn smooth by habit.

He’s almost to his chosen vantage point when he spots her in the reflection of a shop window.

He doesn’t know her by name, but she works for the same organization that he does. She’s watching him, and even as he turns, her hands come up, holding a pistol.

The shot hits just above his left hip, and he stumbles, pain searing through him. She’s on him in a second, swinging the gun like a cudgel. He goes for a knife and slashes upward just in time to catch her arm. She drops the gun. He lunges in, momentarily ignoring his own injury, and slices her leg open. Try and catch me with that.

Ryousuke is off and running before the woman can react. She gives chase, but he has a head start and two working legs. He loses her easily, but he doesn’t slow down for another three streets. He has no idea who else is out here, and he has to get some distance before the adrenaline wears off and the blood loss catches up with him.

He finally slows to a walk, but he doesn’t stop moving. He can’t. If that woman was out to kill him, it means command decided he’s more of a liability than an asset. He’s probably marked kill on sight for every operative with even the slightest chance of taking him out.

He’s at a disadvantage in this city. He’s never been to Cairo before, so he doesn’t know the terrain well. Safe houses aren’t an option, not when it’s his own organization gunning for him. Most of his caches are out too, for the same reason. Most of his aliases are useless now—he has, at most, two that aren’t burned. And unlike most assassins, these ones know exactly what Ryousuke looks like, pink hair and all.

The more he thinks about it, the more fucked he knows he is.

His enemies have resources. They have numbers. Ryousuke has his guns and his backpack. If he doesn’t think of something quickly, he isn’t going to survive the week. He’s out of time, out of luck, and out of allies.

Unless…

No. Crazy. Stupid.

But what other options does he have?

He ducks into a doorway and stops long enough to examine the bullet wound. It isn’t as bad as it feels. The shot only grazed him. He’s bleeding heavily, but at least he doesn’t have to deal with removing the bullet. He pulls out his extra shirt—the only piece of spare clothing he has on him—and ties it around his torso to staunch the blood as best he can. It hurts, but he can deal with pain. Then he zips up his jacket, takes a deep breath, and heads in a new direction. He still doesn’t have a destination in mind, but at least he has an idea of where to start.

Miyuki Kazuya rarely works alone.

If Ryousuke is lucky, this will be the best decision he’s ever made.

If he isn’t, it’ll be the last decision he ever makes.

Youichi pauses in front of the door.

That shoe print wasn’t there when he and Miyuki left the safe house this morning. Youichi crouches down to get a better look, and raises his eyebrows when he realizes it isn’t just clay dirt. The print has fresh blood in it.

Youichi frowns. He hasn’t heard anything from Miyuki. There’s a chance that dumbass got hurt and decided not to call Youichi, but it’s a small chance. He can’t think of any other reason for someone to be bleeding in their safe house, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.

Youichi draws his gun and flings open the door.

“Don’t shoot,” Kominato Ryousuke says.

Youichi shoots.

Kominato throws himself behind the bed, landing with a groan of pain. “I said don’t shoot.”

“Why the fuck would that convince me not to shoot?”

“If it helps, I’ve already been shot.” He sounds like it, too. The assassin Youichi’s been tangling with all this time wouldn’t even sound fazed by that abrupt dive.

Youichi keeps his gun trained on the edge of the bed. “Why are you here, Kominato?”

“I’ve had some creative differences with my colleagues.”

Youichi blinks. “…your own people shot you?” Wait. “You failed your last job,” he realizes. “Your superiors put out a kill order on you.”

Kominato laughs weakly. “I should ask you to take responsibility.”

“With your own people after you, you’re gonna be dead within a week.”

“Ah, well. I never liked most of them anyway.”

Youichi frowns. “Why are you here?”

“You’re good at this, Kuramochi. Figure it out.”

Youichi thinks about it. What reason could Kominato Ryousuke have to deliver himself into the arms of a rival agent…who spared him in the past…

“No way.”

Kominato huffs a laugh. “Why Kuramochi, I’m hurt. Don’t you want to spend more time with me?”

Youichi’s mind races. He has no reason to trust Kominato. No reason to believe he’s even telling the truth, except that Kominato is bleeding and alone in his safe house. Youichi’s reputation hardly makes him sound like a guy who would fall for a ploy like this. If it’s a trap, what’s the goal?

If it’s not a trap, Kominato would be a formidable asset to the organization. If Kominato has really been slated for death, he needs allies to protect him.

“Kuramochi, do you have a first aid kit?”

Youichi blinks, thrown by the sudden topic change. “Yeah, of course.”

Kominato sighs. “Can I use it? You can stand there holding a gun on me if it makes you feel better, but I’m bleeding out on the floor here.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay. It’s in the bathroom.”

Kominato slowly edges out from behind the bed, straightening up when Youichi doesn’t shoot. His jacket and the leg of his pants are soaked through with blood. Youichi is amazed Kominato can even stand.

Alright. Youichi holsters his gun. Kominato raises an eyebrow.

“What? You’re not gonna be able to patch that up yourself.” He might have to kill Kominato before this is all said and done, but he doesn’t have enough information yet. It’s a calculated risk—Kominato’s barely upright. If there’s any time Youichi could get close without dying, it’s now. Still, Youichi knows better than to let his guard down.

Kominato shrugs and steps into the bathroom, stripping off his jacket as he goes. Youichi follows and grabs the first aid kit. It’s bigger than the standard-issue ones. After the disastrous mission with the party, he and Miyuki are always well-stocked in the field.

Shit. Miyuki. How is Youichi going to explain this if Miyuki walks in?

One thing at a time. He’ll have to deal with that when he gets there. “Hold still.”

Kominato waits patiently as Youichi cleans him up. The wound isn’t severe, as far as that goes for gunshots. There’s only so much Youichi can do in the field, so cleaning and bandaging will have to suffice for now. One way or another, this will be over by the time Kominato needs more extensive attention.

Youichi’s phone rings. He steps back, pulls out his gun, and holds it on Kominato as he answers. “Yeah?”

“Kuramochi, Kominato Ryousuke’s in town. He’s gone rogue,” Miyuki says.

Youichi blinks. “Really.” Across from him, Kominato cocks his head curiously. “That’s a pretty stupid move for such a smart guy.”

“The op’s blown. I got the tip from one of the agents chasing him, confirmed by one of our information brokers. We’re clearing out. Get our stuff together. I’ll be there in five.”

If it’s been confirmed with a third party, Youichi finally has enough information to make a decision. “Kominato’s with me.”

“What?!”

“He says he wants to join our club. I’m giving him your extra shirt.”

“Fuck. Okay. If I show up and you’re dead, I’m blaming you in my report.”

Youichi laughs. “Fair enough.”

“Be careful,” Miyuki mutters, sounding almost concerned. He hangs up, and Youichi lowers both the phone and the gun. “Well, looks like you’re coming with us.” He moves into the main room to throw their stuff into bags.

Kominato smirks. “I’ll take that shirt now.”

Youichi rolls his eyes and tosses it at him.

He wonders if they’ll end up working together after Kominato is vetted. Their skills would go well together. He should be opposed to the idea of teaming up with Kominato, but, well, Youichi does have experience working with terrible personalities.

Somehow, Youichi gets the feeling Kominato will be just as infuriating when they’re on the same side.

A car slams to a stop outside. Youichi shoulders the bags. “Alright, let’s go.”

Mission parameters may have changed, but one thing remains: they have a job to do.