Chapter 47: The Hired Assassin - Sakura

Kageyama is not in his glass-and-steel office. He is in a dark room, a safe house, and he is on his knees. The video call is active. The shadow-Kaichou is watching.

"You failed," the voice says. It is not cold. It is furious.

"Kaichou... she... she used the police!" Kageyama gasps, his face pale with sweat. "She framed us! It was dishonorable!"

"She won!" the voice roars. "She is not her father! She is not traditional! She is a hybrid! She is data and violence! She is dangerous."

"Kaichou, what are your orders?" Kageyama asks.

"This game is over," the shadow-Kaichou hisses. "This corporate approach is inefficient. She has escalated. We will escalate."

The screen goes blank. Kageyama is left kneeling in the dark. He is ruined. He has failed. He is shaking, not with fear, but with rage.

"She... bitch... she corrected me."

He pulls out his phone. Not his corporate phone. A burner. He makes a call. "It is me," he snarls. "She is too smart. I cannot out-think her. So, we will correct her. Permanently."

He is not calling his Kaichou. He is going rogue.

The scene shifts. An internet cafe in Akihabara. It is loud, bright, and smells of stale ramen and energy drinks. A girl is sitting in a private booth, her feet up on the desk, surrounded by cute, pink, anime plushies. She is playing a first-person shooter and winning, her headshot ratio insane.

She is wearing a different school's cute, sailor uniform. Her hair is bubblegum pink, in two pigtails. She looks sixteen. She is chewing bubblegum. Pop.

Her phone buzzes. A burner. She does not pause her game. She picks it up and answers.

"This is Sakura," she whispers, her voice high and cute, like an anime character.

She listens. Her thumb pauses over the trigger.

"Bokumuchi-kai?" she says, her voice sweet. "Oh my. That is a big one. The Ojou-sama?"

She listens. Pop. She pops her gum.

"Ayako Katsumi," she says. "Yeah. She is royalty. She is S-Rank."

She listens.

"The price for royalty is royal, Kageyama-san," she whispers.

She listens. Her eyes are not cute. They are dead.

"Yes," she says. "That is the correct amount. Wire the funds. To the usual account."

She hangs up. She un-pauses her game. Click-click-click. Headshot. Headshot. She is bored.

"Ayako Katsumi," she mutters, her voice not cute anymore. It is flat. Dead. "This should be fun."

She gets up. She is tiny. She picks up her pink school bag, the one with a keychain. She opens it. Inside are not books.

Inside are knives.