Club 419

Shiro looked up into the cold and dark night sky as she leaned her back against the brick wall of the club she was about to enter.  She bent one knee and put her black military grade boot against the wall as she shielded the flame of her lighter from the wind and lit the cigarette she held in her mouth. She snapped the lighter closed with a flick of her  wrist and slid it, and her hand back into the front pocket of her jet black leather pants, burying her black painted nails into the warm crevice.

It was a tight fit but the bitter cold drove her to try and protect her free hand as she took a long drag of her cigarette before shifting her gaze from the sky down to the ocean just across the street. It wasn't beautiful by any means, and the water smelled rancid and appeared to be littered with plastic bottles and discarded needles. The part that was comforting was the gentle slamming as each wave hit against the stone retaining wall that separated the sea from the bike path that ran along the shoreline.  

A few houseboats held together with tape and pieces of broken pallets floated about 300 meters from the shore while larger shipment vessels also traveled through the deeper areas. Even at this time of night it was a pretty busy place which made Shiro's job even harder. More people=more witnesses. That is probably the reason why her wages were so high, because there was a high risk of being caught.  Shiro took a few more long drags from her cigarette, her exposed hand becoming increasingly cold despite the fingerless thick leather gloves she wore. She bent over and rubbed the but of her cigarette into the concrete until all the cinders disappeared; carefully she picked the bud up and stored it in a specimen container.

The cigarette could very easily land her and the boss's family in a whole lot of trouble if a police officer were to get a hold of it. Shiro was too much of a professional to leave behind such a vital piece of evidence. Even one that seemed very small.

Shiron quickly stood up and reapplied a layer of black lipstick before scratching her messy white hair. At 5 '11”, thickly muscled, and with nearly every piece of exposed flesh covered in yakuza style tattoos, Shiro must have been quite the intimidating sight. When the bouncers saw her they immediately reached for their hidden weapons. 

Rather than slow her approach Shiro continued walking towards the entrance, unzipping her black tightly fitted leather jacket and removing it entirely. She slung her jacket over her left arm and rotated right her forearm revealing the signature Tattoo of the Yamada family group, a white tiger crouching down, ready to spring into attack.  The club was in Yamada family territory so upon seeing the tiger tattoo, the bouncers immediately moved out of the way. Shiro's entire right arm down to the wrist was covered in yakuza style tattoos. Floating clouds, blue faced oni, and red faced oni cover her arms in a cohesive piece. 

That isn't all though. Shiro wore only a white wife beater, a sports bra,  and suspenders under her leather jacket. The dark tattoos that covered her entire back were able to be seen through the shirt she wore, but the details were difficult to make out through the thin layer of fabric. Before they opened the door for her, Shiro handed the men a single playing card with a joker on it. This signaled the men to immediately  back off before exchanging unsure looks with Shiro. With a single head nod, the incredulous men vacated the premises.

“In I go,” Shiro whispered to herself as she pushed open the rusty metal door to the club. She was immediately engulfed in the blaring, bass-heavy beats of the electronic dance music mixed by the night's dj. She walked up to the reception desk that checked in coats and purses and handed the clerk her leather jacket. The clerk hung it, stuck a numbered post-it to the collar and tore off the bottom portion and returned it to Shiro. Shiro slid a joker card to the clerk who immediately grabbed her bag and ran out the entrance. 

Shiro parted the black-out curtain with one hand and peeked her head into the club. It would be pitch black inside if not for the flashing neon colored strobe lights that lit up the dance floor. To the right of the club there was a full service bar and to the far left was the platform where musicians performed. In the middle was a dance floor, which consisted of a sea of people wearing glow sticks in various stages of intoxication.

  On a platform raised about 5 ft above the dance floor was the VIP area. It had a couple small tables surrounded by couches and a security guard stationed at the stairs leading up to it. A young man wearing all black, a thick gold chain, and a pair of wrap-around shades sat on a lounge chair with his legs crossed,  and a scantily dressed girl on either arm. There was also a group of five thugs sitting on various other seats. By the looks of their immature dress, these kids were no professionals, probably muscled hired off the streets. They had on baggy pants in various colors with oversized basketball jerseys and all had some type of frosted tips on their hair. 

Shiro shook her head, “Kids man. Just another level of stupid. I hope they don't ACTUALLY think they look cool. Stupid fools are about to get their death wishes granted if they don't get out of my way.”

 The kid in all black was her target. Kento Yamada was the son of one of the five board of directors for the Yamada family's trade business which was a front for their real work.  The illegal exports and imports of various contraband. They dealt with literally everything from weapons to illicit substances and rare exotic animals. 

Kento was a spoiled brat who used his father's money as he pleased. That was annoying but not enough for the head of the Yamada family to issue a death warrant. No. Kento was also an idiot. The last time he got busted he had enough crack on him to get him a life sentence. Since the bastard was walking around as a free man, that could only mean one thing. The brat was a fucking snitch. The reward for talking to the cops was always the same. The culprit's head would be presented to the big boss, Hiro Yamada. Who dealt death for the Yamada family? None other than their infamous death dealer known only by the name of Shiro.

Shiro let out a sigh as she thought about how much the kid would fight to avoid his inevitable fate. She needed a drink. She moved to the bar and ordered her absolute favorite. 

“I'll take an old fashion please, and can you give me a cup of sliced lemons,” Shiro shouted over the blaring music. The little woman who was wearing a black button up shirt and a white tie, gave a head nod in response then hastily began to prepare the drink. When it was finished she slid the drink and lemons across the black top to Shiro and gave her a flirtatious smile. Shiro flashed a wide grin in return while sliding a joker card to the attractive bartender. The girl picked it up, took another serious look at Shiro before grabbing her male co-worker by the sleeve and dragging him towards the exit.

 The joker cards were known by all employed by the Yamada group as a way for them to keep loyal employees safe during times of conflict and to weed out those that were not loyal. If someone left without question they were a keeper and it would have been a shame to lose them in crossfire. If someone either didn't leave or attempted to inform the enemy of the impending attack, they basically confessed to being disloyal and would be weeded out. By weeded out, it meant killed on sight. 

Shiro twirled her glass a few times before taking the drink down in a single gulp. Heat rushed to her face as shenswallowed the intoxicating fluid. Sometimes even Shiro needed a bit of liquid courage. She got up with a hop and messed up her hair, tossing the shoulder length, pure white strands to the left side of her head. The right side of her head was shaved down to the skin, exposing the large scar that spanned from the start of her hairline to the nape of her neck. This was one of the few visible reminders of her accident that Shiro still had. 

Much of her recovery was a blur, and all of her life before she met the Yamadas was completely gone. What she did remember though was Aniki being at her side every step of the way. Paying for her therapies and teaching her to fight. Shiro took a deep breath. It didn't bother her so much anymore, but sometimes she wished she could remember anything. Even if it was just her own name. 

No matter. Shiro had a good life now. She was well fed, had a place to live, and was well compensated for her work. She really couldn't complain much about her life over the last ten years. She gave her whole body a little shake and moved past her momentary longing for information about her old life. It was time to get to work. She wanted to warn the DJ before all the action started. There was only one way to get over to him, straight through the dance floor. 

Shiro wasn't even going to pretend that the idea of dancing her way through the crowd of bouncing and undulating bodies didn't excite her. Afterall, one of Shiro's only hobbies was dancing. To all types of music she found her body moving rhythmically or gracefully on its own. Over the years, she realized that without any training she was well versed in almost all classical forms of dance and even in modern hip-hop and interpretive dancing.  Her body just did this on its own as if working from muscle memory and completely overwriting messages from her brain. She knew deep-down that even if she didn't remember things, that her body did. She was sure she was some kind of professional dancer in another life and was happy to at least have that part of her past still with her. 

As Shiro approached the dance floor, her body began to get taken over by the spirit of dance. Moving on its own, her hips began to move to the beat of the music first in a small way then progressively wider and looser. She must have looked appealing because one of the club goers pulled her into the wall of human bodies and placed a glow stick necklace around her neck. The two moved and danced together for a couple of minutes, their bodies moving in sync and slowly inching closer and closer until their bodies were pressing up against each other. Suddenly another member of the crowd pulled her further into the group dancing against her from behind. As the strobe lights continued to flash to the beat of the music Shiro inched her way across the dance floor partnering with whoever had the courage to approach her. In about the length of one song, she had managed to dance her way to the DJ before slipping him the Joker card. He immediately set his equipment to auto play and exited out the emergency exit door that was right behind the stage. This caused the alarm to start blaring and sent most of the guests into a panic, large crowds heading for the exits on both sides of the club. 

While chaos ensued, Shiro snuck her way to the VIP area and took out the bouncer blocking the stairs with a quick chop to the nape of his neck. His body fell with a thud that couldn't be heard above the club music and howling fire alarm. Casually, her hands tucked into her pant pockets Shiro walked into the VIP area where her target sat. The stupid looking thugs all at once stood up to confront her.

“Who the fuck are you?” spat the first thug.

Shiro just gave a small sinister smile to the man before retorting, “What a rude one you are. You see a woman alone and don't even bother introducing yourself properly?”

The other three thugs followed and began yelling at her all at once with various threats and foul language. Shuro ignored them all as she continued on her path to Kento brat. She expected to have been assaulted by now, but to her surprise, all of them but one stood still, as if frozen in place.

The guy with the oversized basketball jersey pulled out a taser and got into a sorry looking battle stance. Hands still in her pockets, Shiro egged him on.

“Ah, at least one of you is brave enough to take me on. Come on! Show me what you got kid!”

The thug lunged forward, but Shiro leaned way back dodging the strike entirely while simultaneously kneeing him in the stomach hard enough to make him pass out instantly.

“Nice try kid. Come on. Who's next?”

The first thug's effort gave all the other ones courage. And several swarmed Shiro at the same time. She had no difficulties bobbing and weaving around their strikes leaving all of them off balance and confused. Shiro peered at them over her shoulder, these kids were stupid. They didn't deserve to die just because they were hired by the wrong person.

“Oi. Kids! I'm gonna give you all one chance to run away. If you stay just know this. You will die. Your choice.”

The thugs all looked at each other and one helped his friend up off the floor as they began to retreat. The look of anger and disgust on Kento's face grew as his hired crew got further and further away from him.

“You disloyal motherfuckers! I'll make sure none of you get hired in this city ever again!”

As he yelled, the two girls that were sitting next to him got up and started to flee as well. He made an effort to grab one of them as they tried to leave, but Shiro threw a glass at him, knocking his hand away.

Shiro slowly walked over to Kento who was standing now with his fists balled, in a fit of rage. Shiro sat down across from him and  crossed her legs. With a smirk, “Whoa, whoa. Easy there, big guy. No need to flip your shit over something so trivial. Your peeps made the right choice. Why should they have to die with you? All those kids have their life ahead of them, you know?”

For the first time, Kento had a good look at Shiro. His eyes drifted over her body and stopped at the tattoo on her right forearm. The color in his face immediately began to drain as he was struck with the realization of who the person was sitting across from him. The punk suddenly got dizzy, collapsing backward into the love seat directly behind him. He was drenched in sweat now as he looked directly into Shiro’s pale blue eyes. 

With a sarcastic smile, Shiro asked Kento, “You alright kid? You look like you seen a ghost”. 

When Shiro got no response. She left out a long sigh and  leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and rested her chin in her gloved hands. “So, I'm guessing you know who I am then?”

Kento took a deep swallow but his throat was still bone dry. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. In front of him sat the most feared person in the Yamada group aside from Aniki himself. He saw no woman sitting there and didn't hear her speak. All he saw was a massive shinigami with eyes glowing red and grey ashen skin, holding a scythe and moving with  the lady as if it was part of her shadow. He really shouldn't have taken that acid, it was fucking with his head. 

When asked if he saw a ghost, he wanted to say he didn't and that the creepy fucker attached to the woman was what had him paranoid, but again he had no audible words.  The only  thing he managed to squeak out was a single word, “Shinigami”.

The lady leaned back and slapped her knee before letting out a rather maniacal laugh. “You aren't the first one to call me that. But Kento-kun, since you do know I'm here for you I'm guessing you already know why. Correct?”

Kento tried to speak but it all came out in a jumbled mess. He cleared his throat and tried again, “I had no choice but to work with them. If I didn't, the cops would have had me thrown in jail for over 20 years! What else was I supposed to do? “ Kenton stammered. 

Shion ruffled her hair and let out yet another big sigh. “It's because of dumbfucks like you that I never run out of work. What were you supposed to do? Try to take your punishment with dignity? The worst that would have happened is you served 5 years and out on parole with good behavior, now you aren’t even gonna make it 5 more minutes.”

Kento began to shake pitifully, “I'll pay you. I'll give you all father's money I swear! Don't kill me! Please don't. I don't wanna die.”

Shiro sighed again, “No amount of money can buy me. Besides, you and I both know that the only thing that will satisfy Aniki is your head. So how about we just cut to the chase and get to the part where you try to run?”

Kento stood up. 

“I'll give you till the  count of 5. 1, 2, 3…”

Kento took off in a stumbling mess, tripping several times before heading into the employee only area behind the bar. He ran and tripped more as he tried to look over his shoulder. 

Meanwhile Shiro slowly got up and grabbed a fork from a plate left on the counter. With long elegant strides, she ran after Kento and literally within seconds caught up to the sorry piece of garbage. He tried to swing at Shiro but missed. Shiro in return, stabbed him right on the side of the neck so hard the points went through to his trachea. When Shion retracted the fork, Kenton gasped, which sounded more like gurgling and drowning before his legs gave out and his face hit the cold concrete of the back hallway. 

By the time Shiro bent over to check for a pulse he was already dead. His eyes were dull and lifeless, his face stuck with an expression of utter terror. The emotionless killer pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and searched the word “cleaners”.  Once she dialed the line was answered after the first ring.

“Shiro-san how can I be of assistance.”

“I got my target. Send a clean-up crew to the 419 club near the docks. Also the fire alarm is going off here, someone probably needs to call off the fire department before they show up.”

“Ok, I have a team headed there already. We will deal with the authorities. Please send proof of the target 's demise.”

“Ok,” Shiro picked up Kentos's head by the hair and sent the cleaner a quick snap. 

“Confirmation received. Shiro, please give our regards to Aniki.”

“Will do. A pleasure working with you as always.”

Shiro hung up the phone with a click and headed to her bike where a black box and a full length katana waited for her.