Like a Ghost

I peeked my head behind an alleyway and took a peek at the area of interest. It looked to be a nightclub, yet there was no one lined up to get in.

A pair of bodyguards were idling at the front entrance. At first glance, anyone would think they were hooligans before the yakuza.

At the very least, they match the average description. Abnormal haircuts, loose professional clothes, and tattoos printed on various parts of their bodies.

"Watcher," I said through the comms.

"I'm here, son," he answered. "What do you see?"

"Looks like the fraud is rolled up in his own little nightclub, sir. Despite the average nightlife, everyone seems to be ignoring its presence. Doesn't seem like a popular spot in the slightest."

"If it's really that bastard's hideout, then it would make sense why everyone is paying so little attention to it. Ain't nobody gonna go to a club they ain't never seen before."

"Are you certain this is the right place, sir? I won't tolerate killing innocent people."

"You questioning my knowledge, son? Some of our boys were tailing him, and all of them said that this was the last place he stopped at for the night. If you're really doubting me that much, go in and scout it out."

"Understood, sir."

I snuck around the side of the nightclub and found a locked door beneath a flickering light. From my pocket, I pulled out a lock-picking tool and gently forced the door open. Looks like a storage room of some kind. Empty, and not a soul in sight.

Treading as lightly as possible is a given during operations. I've had many times to get some practice done. Now, it feels like I've become a literal ghost.

I threw my back against a wall next to an open doorway as a pair of men began walking down the hall.

"Honestly, the hell was the boss thinking?" one of them asked.

"Just don't question it, man," the other one said. "It's because of him that we can enjoy this kind of luxury."

"Still, the son of a fucking government official? That's going way too far. What if the real yakuza start coming after us?"

"They won't. They'll just pass it off as another gang doing their own thing. The yakuza doesn't give a shit as long as it doesn't happen on their turf."

What a lucky time to be eavesdropping. That pretty much settles any doubts I had beforehand. Time to get to work.

I grabbed a small cardboard box and tossed it outside of the doorway, stopping the two men in their tracks.

"The hell was that?"

"Fuck if I know. Go check it out."

Slowly, a pair of footsteps crept closer to me. As soon as the man reached the doorway, I quickly pulled him in and shoved my dagger through his neck.

"Hey!" the other shouted from down the hall.

The moment he took a step forward, I rushed out into the hallway and shot him in the head. He fell to the ground with a subtle thud.

Two down, who knows how many more to go.

I snuck around the back hallway, killing three more men who were unfortunate enough to run into me.

One down. Three down. Seven down.

All assassins of the Hunt operate exactly the same way. Kill them first, then twice. As silently as possible... as if the victim had incurred the wrath of a ghost.

That's right. I am one of those assassins. With just a simple command, I kill without remorse. I, as a living, breathing human just like everyone else, am the cause of countless deaths. I'm no ghost, but I may as well be.

Whatever it is that Watcher wants me to do, all this talk about... 'being normal...' It's not for me.

Finally, I found my way to the dancefloor, where the target was sitting on a lavish couch with three bodyguards standing beside him. Two were holding bats while one had a knife. As long as I keep my distance, I should be fine.

I quickly took a moment to prepare myself.

Gun, check.

Ammo, check.

The element of surprise, check.

With that, I stationed myself at a cover behind the couch. Only one of them would have a clear view of me when I reveal myself. I took a deep breath and ran out from behind the cover. Three shots was all it took. In a span of five seconds, all of the bodyguards fell to the ground.

"W-what the?!"

The target was immediately silenced when I dashed forward and held my dagger right at his throat.

"Don't move," I whispered.

Although I couldn't see his face, I had a solid guess of how it looked. His body was visibly shaking, and strands of sweat quickly slid down the back of his head.

"Mitsuki of the yakuza," I said. "But... You're not the yakuza, are you? Speak."

"I'm... I-I'm not the yakuza..." he muttered.

"Then why did you declare the yakuza responsible for assaulting the son of a government official when it was you?"

He did not reply. Perhaps he was trying to circulate some kind of excuse in that thick skull of his.

"Did you know that making a mess on the streets while parading the yakuza's name is a crime?"

"I... I did not..."

"Is that so? Well, I am only telling you a half-truth. There is nothing in the laws of Japan that says you can't do that. However... The code of the yakuza speaks a different language. You may have as well summoned death himself to collect your soul."

"P-please, sir... If you would allow me a chance to right my wrong... I swear... I now realize what a mistake this was, and I won't do this ever again."

"That is something you should've thought about before you decided to dance with the devil."

Gently, I pushed the blade of my dagger further into his throat.

"The Hunt sends their regards."

"W-wait!" he cried.

Without allowing him to say anything else, I pulled the dagger away, slashing his neck. His body rested upright before plopping onto the couch as his blood seeped into the cushions. As always, I lifted my pistol and planted a bullet in his head as a safety precaution.

"You bastard!" someone yelled from the side.

I instinctively jerked to the side with my pistol lifted. However, the moment I was about to pull the trigger, a deafening gunshot echoed within the nightclub. With a spew of blood in his head, the ambusher fell onto the ground, his knife sliding out of his hand.

"Almost got killed there, Tsuki no Ran," a familiar voice taunted me. "Is it just me, or are you getting a bit dull?"

From behind the shadow of a pillar, a young man stepped out with a dangerous grin, hurling a knife up and down like some kind of movie villain.

Like me, he wore a dark outfit but failed to wear a cap or a mask. His natural white hair was all over the place as if he had just stepped out of a windstorm. A long, braided strand fell down the left side of his head. Just a single look in those devilish snake eyes, and anyone can tell that he isn't a sane person.

I knew better. This guy isn't just messed up in the head. He can be frighteningly normal when he wants to be. Upon his bare neck was the tattoo of a scythe encircled by a crown of thorns; the symbol of the Hunt.

"Saku no Satsu..." I muttered.

"Hey, bud," he smiled. "How's it going?"