[Kushiki Kioko]

I HAVE PROMISES TO KEEP

AND MILES TO GO BEFORE I SLEEP

Alcohol hummed through Kioko’s veins and throughout her head. Sebastian’s goading and very existence caused her to overindulge in more drinks than she had intended while spending her evening awash in a shallow mimicry of her former life. No amount of booze could make it ever feel like more than that again, but these nights were all that kept the last traces of her humanity from drowning in riptides of wrath and revenge.

Sense had dulled in favor of enhanced stubbornness. Part of Kioko, the part that retained the faculties of her sober self beneath the buzz, knew that she should have asked one of the others to escort her home or to the nearest subway station or even called a cab, though paying Sebastian’s tab made the latter nigh impossible. But she didn’t do any of those things. Instead, she just walked away, like she did from so many other things.

The path was familiar enough, even in the darkness of the late hour. Lights from business fronts and cars gave way to softer illumination from street lamps as the environment transitioned to a more residential area. Not a good one, but residential nevertheless. Kioko’s apartment building was located somewhere farther inside the neighborhood. Habit took her through a dark side street. She chose shadows whenever she could. Unfortunately, so too did the assassin that stalked her.

Had she not been mild inebriated, perhaps she would have been aware of more warning signs. As it were, she heard only the skin crawling sound of a metal blade being hastily drawn from whatever sheathed it. The sound originated from behind her. She pivoted just in time for the dagger to miss whatever vital organ it had been aimed for at her back. Not that Kioko was unscathed. The weapon found purchase in the flesh of her torso. Fat silver droplets splashed to the ground from a long gash across her side. She hissed in pain, but had enough wherewithal, and more than enough pride, to not scream.

Kioko clutched her side. The mercury there had already hardened into a makeshift patch to keep her from losing too much blood. Her eyes frantically searched for the culprit behind her injury, but no one was there. The only clue to where they had gone came from metallic splotches on the ground leading away from her. Pain was an excellent way to shake off the stupor caused by drinking. However, it had yet to clear away entirely. That made it hard to fine tune her Quirk enough to narrow in on any of her toxic blood that might still be on the intended murder weapon. Hard, but not impossible. She just needed a little time. Not that assassins were in the business of affording their victims such a luxury.

Notes & Tags: IL Fantasma