Chapter Text
Prologue
Sharon Carasuma, or Chris Vineyard, walked into her father’s office.
The place was old and smelled like the fresh print of books, like it always did, with now an aroma of lighthearted cigarettes and liquor balancing in the making. Her father was sitting on the chair, back facing the entrance, as per usual, but instead of turning at the sound of Sharon approaching, he stood up and faced the actress with a dead-serious glint in his eyes.
“Sharon,” he said, in a husky voice, not bothering to drop his flat tone as those lifeless grey eyes stared back at her own. “I have a… task of some kinds, for you to do. I wouldn’t rather let anyone else handle this.” The pale blonde clenched her jaw, ever so slightly, at those words, and the pressure in which her father was instilling on her in order to ensure that she would follow through to the end in an attempt to not feel the crushing disappointment from her father, known as the boss of the Black Organization himself.
So she nodded. “Yes? What is it do you need me to do?” She asked gently, pronouncing a posture of relaxed interest, where the leader smiled approvingly. Sharon hated, entirely, to the bottom of her core, at how much her stomach fluttered at her father’s approval. He shouldn’t have so much influence on her mindset.
A small footstep echoed from behind the desk, and Sharon looked downwards to no avail, and stared right back to her father after the movement. He replied, crossing his arms and bringing out a boy.
“This is my other son. His name is Fubuki Carasuma.” Pleasantly, he echoed, and the small kid looked up at Sharon with large, enchanting blue eyes, innocently batting his lashes as if never having to stare death in the face before. He looked nothing like Sharon nor like their common father; but then again, the actress looked nothing like the boss to begin with.
She was tall and deathly pale in tone, with perfectly modeled features past her bridged, long nose and perfect lips. Her eyes were gimmering turquoise eyes, which were reminiscent of the top of an endless ocean, with hair like an icy blonde that fell gracefully just past her shoulders. Her father wasn’t a tall man, no, and his hair had gone slightly grey from all his time alive, with a long, hooked nose and sharp silver eyes. His posture was perfect, how he spoke every word was aristocratic and elegant in his own way.
The kid that her father brought out was an entirely different story. He looked to be about ten years of age, was tall for that age group and had flimsy arms and legs that surely wouldn’t be able to shoot a gun with grace. He was looking down at the floor, nervous and young with fresh innocence, and he mumbled something underneath his mouth. But his features were stunning for someone so young, and even Sharon could admit that without shame.
His hair was a dark, chocolate-like brown, and it fell close to his ears, with a cowlick in the front and tied in a tall bun in the back. His skin was tanner than Sharon’s, but still pale, and smooth and soft. His face was rounded and his nose was short but tall, with pale lips and chubby kid-like cheeks, and he gave off an aura of sinlessness that didn’t fit at all into the role of being the boss’ son.
But his eyes were what drew Sharon truly in. Glimmering like a sea-blue, sparkling with artlessness, or a ghost that could peer into the darkest depth of the soul for the single and only truth, soft and unassuming but sharp and intelligent.
There was something wrong and contradicting about the kid, and it made Sharon stare down at the kid menacingly. “Sharon, don’t scare him. After all, I want you to be taking care of him for the next few years.” A voice suddenly ringed out through the room, making the actress look up in genuine surprise.
She paused, waiting for the information to fully process through her mind.
Surely he was joking? Sharon, known as Vermouth, one of the top members of the Black Organization, taking care of a small kid so much younger than her, looking timid and weak and pretty? She bit her lip in frustration, carefully hiding any other remains of that emotion behind a mask of forced calm.
She was busy. Busy with keeping up her appearances as Chris Vineyard, as Sharon Vineyard, as Vermouth. She didn’t have the time to be babysitting a frail kid. Busy with dealing with that pair of manipulative idiots, Gin and Vodka, and busy with making sure that the world didn’t know the influences the Black Organization had a hold of.
“I know what you must be thinking, Sharon.” Her father sighed, looking straight past Sharon’s facade in an instant, and she let the mask loosen and fall into a look of exasperation. “But there is a reason I haven’t shown Fubuki to anyone just yet. You see, he’s… well, to say, special. Gifted, in many ways of the mind. He could be very useful assistance to you and the other members, and he already has a codename, too.”
Sharon froze, feeling an eerie shock spinning over her shoulder. She could be shocked, or terrified, or something among the interested, and she wasn’t exactly sure which was which- the kid couldn’t be more than ten, and already did he have a codename too? And to get recognition from him was a far greater accomplishment than it seemed like. She’d only ever heard her father compliment a handful of people.
“His codename?” She finally forced out, in a soft, uncaring tone, which she was sure her father saw through instantly.
“Hmm?” He hummed, only minorly interested as the kid looked up at Sharon with eerily glowing blue eyes. Surely that wasn’t the case- it was all just a trick of the light.
“His codename? It’s Kirsche. ”
=
One week later, since that moment, Sharon still had little to no idea of what made Fubuki so special. She just moved into this hotel today, and has been hopping from hotel to hotel, staying at one for no more than three days at a time, with the little kid trailing her almost everywhere except on public appearances and the washroom. Sure, he was young and delightfully pretty for his age, but features were not even close to enough to get acknowledgement from the head of the Black Organization. There had to be something more, something hidden beneath that listlessly innocent face.
Speaking of the devil, the blue-eyed boy sat up in the bed and stared at Sharon nervously. Impatient, the pale actress sighed, and asked, “What is it?” She hadn’t even heard Fubuki speak much over the course of the week. And when he did, it was mostly about telling her that he was going to take a bath, or to grab a delivery at the front gate.
“Uhm. Sharon-nee-sama, the meat in your fridge is probably unfrozen now, and it’s kind of likely that the taste won’t be as good… I suggest that you maybe should buy a new one for the people that are coming for tonight…?”
She froze.
“How did you know?” She asked, coming closer and looming the shadow of her figure over the small child. He didn’t look through her phone, did he? Surely the fragile kid wouldn’t dare to do such a thing to Vermouth , of all people. He seemed far too afraid for such a thing.
But Fubuki merely blinked, fluttering his eyelashes in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I know that someone would be coming over tonight?” He asked nonchalantly. “Judging by the fact that you always make dinner, and that the slab of meat you brought out was far too large to share for one actress and one kid... that someone- most likely a pair of men, by how the plates are arranged in the dishwasher- are coming over tonight…” He paused, taking Sharon’s unmoving face as a sign of something bad.
“Oh- uhm, sorry if you meant that how I knew that the meat was going to go bad… It's because of the layout of the room. The washroom is right next to the kitchen area, and seeing that you always take around an hour when washing as you prefer bathing over showering, that naturally the steam coming from the washing room would rise and make the fridge less effective… But I’m sure you already know all that. Sorry...”
It was the most that Sharon ever heard Fubuki speak, and it hit like a sudden mine buried in a battlefield. She felt like she started to understand slightly more of why the boss thought that the kid was special. Sharon wanted to see more of what the kid could do in his mind, and his perception was much better than Sharon had assumed, and perhaps, if only Sharon knew more, that Fubuki could be just as knifelike as Bourbon.
The next opportunity that Sharon got to see that acute sense of keen insightfulness was later that day, when the two members, Gin and Vodka, had come. It was almost a miracle, how they got in with no body or luggage searches in such a grand hotel, but Sharon knew that they had their own ways of doing things. They came, dressed in black as usual, and how nobody questioned why they looked suspicious was a mystery in it of itself.
“Vermouth.” Gin pressed as the two came into the hotel room, and looked around to quietly memorize the layout of the room in case something went wrong; like if FBI agents suddenly charged in the room. Sharon scoffed at that. She wasn’t nearly careless enough for something tragic to happen when three of the most important members of the Black Organization were having a meeting in such a public room.
And she kept all thoughts to herself as she gave a cold, humorless smile. “Yes?” she asked, and suddenly her mindscape remembered that she had someone to take care of. Perhaps she should introduce Fubuki to the two suspicious men in black and see if something would come of it. Hopefully seeing more of the mind behind that nervous gaze. “Wait. Give me a few moments before you continue. I have someone I want to introduce you to.”
She waited for her words to sink in, watching as Gin’s eyes went slack with suspicion and could see the mindless twitch that made Vodka sink his hand closer to his gun. “Fubuki! Come here, won’t you?”
Sharon called out, and only seconds later a timid, young head poked out of the next room, eyes wide and unassuming. “Yes, Sharon-nee-chan? It's the first time you called for me, is there anything… uhm…” The kid voice cut short at the sight of two menacing men looking down at him with cutthroat gazes. Sharon sent a motion for him to come.
Mousily, he walked over, keeping his head bowed but looking up with concealed curiosity and fear. As an actress, Sharon could see right through the gaze and she almost chuckled. Now that she knew that Fubuki wasn’t just some idiotic and timid brat, she felt like she could connect with the young kid more.
“And the one you wanted to introduce is this kid? A ten-year-old?” Gin pressed heavily, putting his hands in his jacket. “Why is he here, to begin with? It’s not like you, Vermouth, to be a babysitter.” Sharon laughed. It was almost like the silver-haired member of the Black Organization plucked the thoughts straight out of her mind, a week ago.
Fubuki seemed nervous, and the actress could understand why. But it was time to put his fears to the test. “Don’t be scared, Fubuki. They won’t hurt you. At least, I’m certain they won’t.” Vermouth gave the two equivocal men a deathly glare. “Fubuki, these two very friendly misters are Gin and Vodka. The two of you, this is Fubuki.” She paused, hesitating slightly if not she should add the next part, before deciding to do so and crossing her arms. “The boss himself has assigned him to me.”
Interested, the silver-haired man’s eyebrows rose. “Is he anything special?” Vodka asked, while that interest faded and Gin snorted at very friendly misters. Vermouth gave a small, chilling smile. She was about to put Fubuki to the test, right then and there, and it would show Gin and Vodka to not touch the boy.
But then something unexpected happened- Clang. Coins of silver, worth no more than fifty cents altogether, fell out of the kid’s pockets, one rolling on the floor next to Vodka, who gave Sharon an unimpressed look before picking it up hastily. The built man stretched out his hand, making Fubuki come over and picked it up with a trembling, small, hand.
The young boy accepted the coins and pocketed them, but Sharon didn’t fail to notice how the intense blue gaze shivered over Vodka’s hand before doing so. Vermouth smirked inwardly, to herself, as something about Fubuki seemed to change as a deep concentration, hidden before, began to rise to the surface.
“Rather clumsy, isn’t he?” Gin stated, sitting on the couch himself and the observant man probably noticed the enticingly stiff eyes which the kid now had.
Sharon put a single hand onto Fubuki’s shoulder, which caused him to flinch and look back at the woman with now clear alarm in his blink. “You have something to say, don’t you?” If the perception she saw earlier wasn’t a fluke, then this would be the deciding show.
To her surprise, instead of stammering up like she half of her mind expected, or going into a thinking trance like the other half did, the kid bit his lip and looked up at not Gin but Vodka. “Actually… I’ve been wanting to ask Vodka-nii-sama something since he came in…” He looked up at Sharon, as if asking for permission, which she nodded with an unavowed grin.
“Mister, how did you get through the security measures when you just killed someone with a gun? No, that’s a dumb question…’ Those unsettling sapphire eyes enlarged as he looked up, steadily having an edge of confidence that replaced the timidness he expressed just a few moments prior.
When nobody spoke a word, Fubuki took it as a sign that he could keep going. “Actually, If you don’t mind my asking… Why did you use a gun when you were much better with the knife at that distance? You were only three meters away from the young lady you killed, weren’t you?” It came out in one breath, and was one breath that left the room with deadly silence.
For a few, throbbing heartbeats, nothing happened.
“How did you-!” Vodka’s eyes, hidden on most days behind those pairs of sunglasses, rounded with surprise. Sharon smiled, and something in her chest was confirmed, and she placed a hand on Fubuki’s dark, soft hair and ruffled it. Instead of reacting like his partner, Gin merely looked down at the young boy with monotone eyes.
Perhaps feeling that strange coldness wash over him, he looked up at Gin and shuffled to hide behind the couch with Sharon on it. When nobody made a move, a small, nervous voice called out; “Do you really want to know…?”
Vodka nodded, slowly.
“Uhm, your hand when you helped me with that coin… it had blisters on the index and thumb fingers, which are common for a person who uses heavy-handed guns with high caliber ranges, and marks that you just used a gun not too long ago… but there were also bruises on the side of the palm, which can mean that you use knives a lot, too… Probably better at using the latter, judging by how the bruise has spread to the middle of the palm lightly, too.”
The kid took a deep breath in, and Sharon, along with the other two, listened intently, with Sharon being interested, Gin having an amused and bored glare, and Vodka with a bead of sweat, dripping down the side of his face.
“There’s also a droplet of blood on your shades on the very edge. From how your clothes are damp, but not wet, I’d guess that you were outside but had some sort of ceiling over your head, which meant that wind speed would still apply to you. Only the back of your coat is slightly wet, so I thought that you were facing north, because the wind was blowing southward today. Taking the wind speed and how fast a bullet could be shot into a person into account, to have blood sprinkled onto your shades, she couldn’t have been more than three meters away. Using a gun for less than four meters is immoral and impractical because it’s too easy to disable, so the reason that you are confident in that you were against a person you consider to be weaker than yourself. However, your physique is much better than most average humans’, but you clearly respect your partner, Gin-nii-sama, so you know that thinner people could fight back against you as well. The person you were shooting had to have been a woman you were sure was weaker than yourself...”
Abruptly, Fubuki stopped his deduction.
“I’m sorry! I rambled on again… I…” He snuck back into his room, faster than a rabbit, and something akin to sick pleasure spreaded across Vermouth’s face as she let the breathtaking logic wash over her in its entirety.
To think, the timid little kid who was too nervous to even talk to Sharon, had such a brilliant and keen foresighted mind underneath that facade of young innocence.
“I see why the boss wants you to take care of him.” Gin commented offhandedly. “He’d be useful to the organization. Even if he has the courage of a mouse.” He paused. “Does he have one?” The silver-haired man took a second-glance at Vodka, who was still wrapped up in the deduction of a ten-year-old, eyes large and wide.
Vermouth knew what Gin was talking about. “He does. Probably the youngest to ever get one, too. It’s Kirsche.” A codename, at the minor age of ten, was too much of an impressive feat… and Sharon could begin to understand why.
“He’s a brat, isn’t he?” Gin breathed. “He reminds me a lot of Bourbon. Except more obedient, and less the type to stick his nose up in everything. That makes him a lot more useful to us, doesn’t it?” Offhandedly, the silver-haired man turned. “We’ll leave for tonight, and talk another day. And be sure for when Bourbon meets the kid, that he doesn’t ruin his obedience, yes? Knowing that nosy detective… he’s going to try to meet the kid if he hears that a ten-year-old has joined the organization.”
Gin was right, of course. Bourbon was the type to find trouble and was curious in a way that reminded Sharon of Fubuki. And knowing the former, Bourbon was going to find a situation to meet Fubuki, no matter what.
==
The time came much sooner than Sharon expected- she thought it would take at least three months for Bourbon to locate the two, but it only took a month at finest. During the time, Sharon had been carefully building up a bendable and thin layer of trust between Fubuki and herself; and bit by bit did the kid’s true personality come out.
He was small and confident and very adorably child-like underneath his youthful nervousness, and had total belief in the one and only truth when what Sharon calls his “detective mode” comes on. He becomes a totally different person, and it almost feels like his features change, too, with eyes that turn a shade of eerily coruscant blue. It was almost like Sharon was peeling off his outer shell and revealing the boy underneath that was deserving of the codename Kirsche.
Sharon wanted to see more , more of the truth hidden just beneath the surface, and so she did things that the actress would normally consider entirely pointless. Like buying the kid some ice cream, and bringing him to a pool, and even initiating physical touches. Slowly but surely, she could begin to feel the trust between them. She could see that the two of them really were related, both sickly pretty, with Vermouth’s green eyes matched evenly with Fubuki’s blue, but their personalities contrasted. Vermouth was cold and frostily affectionate while Fubuki was straightforward and as cute as a kid should be, as well having a serious tinge underneath a nervous wreck of a personality.
They just happened to be passing by a cafe one day , and by coincidence a woman with a cat had accidently slipped and crashed into Fubuki. Sharon was beyond furious that someone dared to touch her younger brother. But to repent, the lady gave Fubuki a voucher for the cafe that she just so happened to not be able to use, and it was right next to the shop in question, so Sharon and Fubuki walked in.
The former immediately wanted to leave as the waiter walked over.
It was Bourbon! Dressed like a normal citizen of all things, and the look of shock on his face as he saw Sharon, followed by Fubuki, was something that mirrored back on the pale woman’s face. Out of any member of the Black Organization to meet, Bourbon was the one she wanted to see last. The deviously manipulative man always put a soft, confident smile on his face, and he would make such an imprint on a young, impressionable mind such like the one that Fubuki had. No matter how sharp he was, he still was just a kid.
That look of shock evaporated into a few seconds, and Sharon, at the very least, could give him a slow clap for that. Bourbon was stunningly good at hiding his true emotions and intentions. That was what made him so unpredictable, and so unneeded.
“Welcome to our cafe. Come sit at this table,” The waiter said, and motioned to a table in the very corner. The message was clear. Let’s talk privately, Vermouth.
She let it happen and sat where she was told, with Fubuki sitting by her side, holding her hand. Sharon frowned. When did the kid become this endearing? No, the better question was when did Sharon get herself attached to the kid?
Perhaps she felt overprotective of her sibling, but it was only natural. He was a kid, after all, and had a mind so sharp that Fubuki could nearly hold the title of the Silver Bullet where Vermouth had always looked for, and still is looking for. That man is not enough.
“What would you like to order today?” Bourbon asked, suddenly next to Sharon and she flinched invisibly. The blonde bowed down, and staggeringly met the sapphire eyes of Fubuki instead.
“Uhm, if you wouldn’t mind, Sharon-nee-sama, could we get the ham sandwiches?” the kid asked, seemingly to be oblivious of the sudden pit of interest the waiter sent him in. Sharon just nodded, but her gaze glued to the Black Organization member currently innocently standing in front of her.
He stood lower, until he was just next to Sharon’s ear. “ Who’s the little boy you brought with you? ” Bourbon whispered, no doubt already knowing who it was, and he confirmed it. “ Could it be that phantom new member I’ve heard about? The one who is only ten years of age, is pure in heart, but has the cunning of the Devil?”
She breathed in heavily, eyes slitting into narrow lenses of iron. “ He is. He’s Fubuki. Don’t try anything on him, Bourbon. ” A light sigh went through her bones as her voice lowered, dangerously. “Or I really will shoot your head off.”
“ I wouldn’t dare.” Then, Bourbon stood upright. “Two ham sandwiches, coming right up!” He cheerfully walked away, shooting the kid one last deep-meant look, which for how perceptive Fubuki was, he managed to miss it entirely.
Later, after the sandwiches arrived, Bourbon had the audacity to sit down across from Fubuki, who was unbaffled and was focused on the sandwiches as the kid took one and nibbled on the crumbs, eyeing it intensely with a strange pouty expression. Finally, Fubuki noticed something was off and looked up at Bourbon with strangely sugar-coated sapphire eyes.
“Mister? Ahm, are you a waiter? Are you supposed to be sitting with the customers?” He asked in a childishly sweet voice, which dropped low suddenly into a tone of seriousness that Sharon could not have seen coming from twenty miles away. “Or are you sitting here for another reason?”
“Do you like books?” Bourbon asked, and it was such a sudden question that it caught even Sharon off guard. She always knew that Bourbon was good at changing the topic, but this was at an extreme. Surely Fubuki wouldn’t fall for such an obvious misdirection, given his angel-touched head, right? Bourbon continued. “You seem like the type to like books.”
To the actress’ surprise, a small smile- so painfully rare that Sharon had only seen it once- crossed the kid’s lips, and a soft blush like never seen before dusted his cheeks. “...I like books,” he mentioned softly, blinking with large, blue eyes. “Especially mystery books… like the Sherlock Holmes series.”
“Oh?” a large, unassuming smile split across the older man’s face, and Sharon gave him a deadly glare, daring him to try something. “ Sherlock Holmes, you say? It’s a hearty coincidence that I love mystery novels, too.”
Suddenly Fubuki’s eyes glowed with childish excitement, and the sandwich from earlier dropped out of his hands. “Really!?” he spoke in a voice louder than ever before, bringing his own height up to meet Bourbon right in the eyes.
The two orbs of blue, though different in shade, were both as intense as can be, and Sharon felt bitter hatred for Bourbon. Adding on to what she felt before, of course. She should take Gin’s warning more seriously, next time, and absolutely forbid Fubuki and Bourbon from meeting…
“Yup.” Bourbon smiled kindly, and being the observant man he was he probably saw how happy Fubuki was. It made sense, though, that Fubuki would love mystery books; he always did stare a little too hard at the Sherlock Holmes books that were on sale in the book store. Except that Sharon didn’t try to read into it; because she thought that normal kids would be excited for ice cream and cake and all of that. Now that she thought about it, Fubuki was anything but normal.
The kid was smart beyond his years, and time and time again during the month he proved it. Locked devastatingly behind a nervously mousy personality, there was an air of absolute certainty that whatever he deduced was the true and only answer.
You see, he’s… well, to say, special. Gifted, in many ways of the mind . The boss’ voice rang throughout her head, and she felt like she began to understand that even more than she already did. Except, the boss wouldn’t call someone special just because they were shockingly smart; or else Bourbon would have been promoted ages ago.
There's more , Sharon realized. Even more to Fubuki than anyone ever thought of a small ten-year-old kid.
“Which one of the Sherlock Holmes books did you like? Personally I liked the Hound of the Baskervilles , but I haven’t read a few in the series just yet.” A cheeky smile rose up onto Fubuki’s lips, so unlike the nervous wreck before, and Sharon squashed down the killer instinct in her chest. Calm and collected. It was time to stop this little chat that Bourbon clearly manipulated the kid into.
“Amuro-san. Are you or are you not a waiter? I think I see a customer over there.” Just as Bourbon opened his mouth, Sharon spoke those words, and she could clearly see that the man was torn between talking back or continuing his undercover job. In the end he chose the former and relented, standing up from the chair and looking back at an almost disappointed Fubuki.
“You’re right. I’ll go attend to the man in a moment, but first, what’s your name, kid?” Bourbon gave a kind smile in turn and politely put his hands behind his back. Sharon would have really preferred for Fubuki to not say anything, but she couldn’t stop it now or it would draw out mass suspicion.
“My name? Uhm…. it’s…” The kid paused, as if sensing Sharon’s distaste for Bourbon, before the boy gave out a small sigh of either relief or exasperation, and Sharon couldn’t tell, just bewitched by the fact that the kid gave out an emotion that wasn’t small happiness or nervousness. “I’m Fubuki,” he continued. “What about your name?”
“Hmm? Fubuki-kun, then?” Bourbon blinked at Fubuki’s nod. “I’m Amuro Tooru, number one waiter at this cafe, des !” He said it in a childish voice that resonated when the man introduced himself as Amuro Tooru, putting pressure on the last syllable of des. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ll see you-”
Before he could finish, a blood-curdling scream shot throughout the room like thunder, and immediately Bourbon looked back in shock and the chiming sound echoed twice through the room as the man ran over to the source of the sound. A woman, around thirty of age at most, looking down at an old man’s body with a frozen figure and shocked, round eyes.
“Matsushita-san?" Frailly, she reached out to the body with a pale hand. There was blood and bubbles dripping out of the man’s mouth and- and an expression of utter fear and despair on the man’s face. An expression that Sharon, as Vermouth, has seen so, so many times over.
The face of someone who was, and knew he’d be murdered.
“Stand back.” Bourbon rushed to the body, slapping the woman’s hand away in the process. He put a tan hand to her face, checking for the pulse, and to Sharon’s surprise Fubuki rushed right for the body too, slithering in between tall people with his petite stature. Bourbon closed his eyes in a convincing sadness as Sharon crossed her arms, recomposing her perfect posture as if nothing was wrong.
This is turning out to be a terrible day, Sharon thought, as Fubuki asked in a small, nearly trembling voice; “Is he dead?”
It seemed like it was confirmed with a subtle nod of the head by Bourbon, whose face looked gravely and as if he truly was saddened by a man’s death. Only the devil would know how many people that face and body had tortured until they begged for the blessing release of death. Bourbon’s acting could really get him a scholarship as an actor.
“It appears so. And it’s highly possible that he was poisoned, judging by the foaming that is forming around his mouth.” Fubuki nodded. “And the blood might have come from someone stabbing him, or perhaps he coughed up blood, which isn’t very likely due to no blood remaining around his mouth… it could be one forced death and one injury from the victim.”
The kid didn’t notice Bourbon’s pressuring stare on him, but Sharon sure did.
“...That’s right. Which means…. The murderer is one out of us nine in the cafe.” He pointed at the nine people standing, which included himself, Fubuki, and Sharon, before the kid in the middle shot up in a childish voice.
“I think Sharon-nee-sama and I can be crossed off that list. The two of us have been sitting here, in the corner, far away from the victim together, which can be confirmed by everyone in the shop. If we moved over and poisoned the victim, it would be obvious, right?”
Bourbon nodded in quiet agreement. “I cannot be the culprit, either. I’ve been with those two in the corner the entire time, too. The three of us prove each other’s alibis. Right, Fubuki-kun?" What a little piece of… he was deliberately using Fubuki to prove that he wasn’t suspicious, so he could continue his little deduction show.
“Right, Amuro-nii-sama!” the familiar child voice rang throughout the room, and Sharon relaxed. It was fine. Bourbon was sharp, and so was Fubuki. They’ll figure out the murderer and this freak show of a day would be over. Sharon was going to drag Fubuki to their new hotel room, get him to watch television and go out on an excuse to buy him a Sherlock Holmes book, go murder Bourbon’s brain, then actually buy the book and go home to the kid.
It seemed like Bourbon could almost see what Sharon was thinking, because a drop of sweat fell down his face.
“Five suspects, then. The other waiter in the back should be able to be crossed off because they were in the washroom the entire time, judging by how the door never opened since the moment we came in.” Fubuki chanted, suddenly serious. It was in these moments where the boy transformed his personality from a fumbling kid to sharp-witted mastermind who could weave together plots and cut through to the truth. Sharon could not stop but had a long smirk to her face.
It was so very unlucky that the culprit of this little case just had to have both Bourbon and Fubuki there, at the same time. Sharon would wager that it would be wrapped up in a couple of minutes. Then she could proceed with her plan to decimate Bourbon for daring to mess with Fubuki’s innocent little head.
“May you introduce yourselves?” Asked Bourbon, raising up one handsome eyebrow in something akin to curious amusement. The five suspects rapidly spun their heads to stare at each other in something like sheepish agreement.
“I’m Miya Hasuba,” the first lady said, smiling. She was a brunette with dark eyes that had full, painted lips and wore a simple dress, followed by a crafty handbag. “I work as a receptionist for a hotel. This handsome man here is my boyfriend.” She pulled the arm of a guy by her side, with a dark slob of an excuse for hair but enchanting green eyes. “His name is Katori Matsubachi. He’s an excellent host on a television show!”
“It’s Koruba Kenchi, Heiyu Horisube, and Takasugi Yutaki. The three of us used to be in the same cooking club together… so was the victim, Katsuki Matsushita.” Sharon watched as Bourbon gave a small sparkle in his eyes, and the actress knew.
The entire case was over. Closed. Nothing more to see. Bourbon was going to expose the murderer right then and there and the police could come and take the culprit away. Too bad, really, that Sharon didn’t get to see Fubuki shine today.
“Sharon-nee-sama?” A small, kid whisper came from right next to her knees and she looked down, meeting eyes with a delicate ten-year-old. “We can go now, right? I think Amuro-nii-sama has figured it out, too… He can take care of the police, right?”
Sharon immediately caught on. “Too? ” She echoed, and her voice came out before her mind fully processed it all. “You mean to say that you know who the culprit is, as well?” Through her mild surprise, she barely registered Bourbon facing back and gave Fubuki a deep and thoughtful look. You wouldn’t dare, she challenged with a single look from her gleaming blue eyes. Don’t come closer to Fubuki, you organization dog.
Her attention was brought back to reality as Fubuki gave a wide, mischievous smile so unlike how he usually was, even when his “detective state” was on. “Yes! There wasn’t anything for the victim to hold onto with his right hand, either, nor was his hand bruised or damaged in any way. You see, the handle cup the victim was drinking out of was on the left, but the victim is right handed, as evident by the fact the backpack is on the right shoulder.” He smiled cheekily, whispering it to Sharon underneath his breath. She was just barely aware of Bourbon, looking over her shoulder and listening in, and tapped the chair next to her twice. Do not come closer.
“Which means that whoever put the cup there wasn’t the victim, and he had probably already died before we discovered the body. The culprit just put the poison on there to make it so that there were more suspects. However, only Yutaki-san’s left-handed, because she was using her fork to eat the sandwiches earlier. That’s what I noticed, anyway.”
“...”
The deduction was stunning, and Sharon’s eyes widened minorly in surprise. Would he ever stop surprising her? It was almost like Fubuki was Bourbon, except a small, childish, cute and much more sweet Bourbon…
“...But I think Amuro-nii-sama can do the rest… after all, you want to go back to the hotel, right?”
“How did you-” Sharon began, finally getting a word out. Sometimes, it was almost like Fubuki could read minds. He always seemed to know what was in a person’s brain before they ever spoke it out loud. Sharon could see why a brain like that was being brought into the organization, be it from a kid much too young or not. “Nevermind.”
Fubuki was a genius in the world of the mind. He would be a tactioner of death, weaving together plans worthy of praise as much as Arache’s Weavings do, leaving behind not a single trial of a loophole or evidence. He would be the central brain, brought up and raised by members of the organization precisely to assist the organization from the shadows. He would become something akin to the new “small-head” behind the scenes.
The thought made Sharon feel sick.
“You’re right. Let’s go, Fubuki.” Sharon smiled in a way that was barely forced. “I’ll leave the rest to you, Amuro-kun.” She ended it off like that and hastily left the restaurant with the kid.
Later, she came back as planned, but to find that Bourbon was no longer there. The clever man must have figured it out beforehand and ran off to safety. Sometimes, Vermouth was glad that she worked with someone of Bourbon’s talents. This was not one of those times.
She sighed. This day was not going well.
===
Yukiko was planning something.
There was a devious glint in her eyes the next time they met out for tea, brewing each their favourite as the cheery actress’ smile widened, unsophisticated. It was by chance that Fubuki didn’t come, but Sharon was glad for the sake of the lord that he didn’t- if Bourbon was a bad influence on the kid, then Yukiko was probably going to destroy the entire foundation of Sharon’s relationship with the boy with her charming, mother-like attitude.
Thank the worlds that Yuusaku didn’t come, either. The man was enchanting, handsome, and undoubtedly one of the most engrossing people to walk the earth. He was dastardly smart, great at all sports, and wasn’t lacking in money. Every young girl’s childhood dream man.
Sharon could see why Yukiko was so enthralled with him, but she didn’t understand why. Yuusaku was too self-centered, too demanding of others through the facade of mock kindness, and too… too everything that Sharon didn’t like. Secretive, manipulative, and full of false affection for something that shouldn’t be there.
“So, I’ve heard you have a new named member?” As usual, Yukiko was the first to initiate conversation, and this happened to be one topic that Sharon did not want to talk about. But, if she shed away from answering, it’d be like confirming what Yuusaku thought- after all, the man was always the one who convinced Yukiko of information.
Sharon decided to answer truthfully. Fubuki is already known to most of the organization, and she has no idea how Yuusaku always manages to find things out, no matter how well Sharon thought she hid the trails. “...Yes.” she confirmed, unable to hold back a small, truthful smile over her pale face.
“A kid, I hear!” Yukiko delightfully clapped her hands together in bubbly energy. Sharon’s eyebrow twitched. How did Yuusaku always figure these secrets out? Was her thought, before changing to don’t touch Fubuki! She bit her lip, angry, before forcing a look of calm politeness onto her features.
Yukiko must have noticed her little burst because the sweet lady brushed out her hands and stared at the other actress with a look of pure empathy, of pity, that made Sharon want to claw the woman’s throat out. She wasn’t the quiet, happy girl studying the art of disguise under their shared teacher with Yukiko anymore. She was Vermouth, one of the most high-ranking members of the black organization, cold-blooded and fierce and would kill without hesitation.
Letting the latter role play to her face, the apathetic expression bled throughout those model-like mouth and cheeks and nose, before it even spread to the bottomless pit of her eyes. Putting a perfect layer of boredom on top of every other emotion she could have ever had. And nobody would have even noticed, not even Yukiko.
“...He’s not a kid,” Sharon let out in a ghastly whisper. “No. His mind’s far too brilliant to be called a mere boya.” It wasn’t a lie. Sometimes, Sharon suspected that an adult was trapped in the body of Fubuki, the child. No matter which angle you viewed him from, Fubuki still looked like a young boy who was facially charming and always had either a nervous expression or a gentle smile over his pale lips. But, it doesn’t matter his form- Sharon just had an inability to treat him like the child he is.
To her surprise, Yukiko laughed endearingly. “Of course, of course!” Her voice suddenly dropped, and it was so unlike how she normally was that it sent Sharon shivers. “But… even if you say that, he is still too young for all of this… If I have to be honest, I don’t think what you're doing is good for the child, Sharon.” A small, sad and mysterious smile on her usually cheerful face, but it was enough to make Vermouth angry..
“He’s my responsibility, Yukiko.” Sharon bit out as smooth and calm as possible. “ I choose what’s good for the boy.”
The atmosphere seemed to light up instantly as Yukiko gave off a cheery smile, but her honey-coated voice didn’t match up with the words that were as cold as ice.
“We’ll see, Sharon! We’ll see.”
====
The first time that Sharon had heard that Fubuki would be undertaking gun-handling training, it had been two months since the two of them had originally met. Sharon found that she was melting her heart for the kid; who was far too sweet and child-like for that golden brain of his which he showed behind a soft barrier of lies. They did things together, watched movies, had fun, and it was real fun that Sharon hadn’t felt for years . It felt like she was getting too attached to Fubuki, and it made her just slightly upset.
When the news had arrived, Sharon had been completely against the idea. Just look at Fubuki’s thin and fragile wrists and elbow joints! If he touched a gun and the recoil was too much, surely he would break a limb or two. Sharon couldn’t stand that idea.
What made it even worse was that she heard that Gin was going to be in charge of that training, not Vermouth. Rum had apparently gotten tangled into the whole affair and when Sharon’s father was too busy, he had taken over. That sly mongrel of a man was far too impatient for his own good, and said that Fubuki should just proceed straight ahead. No warning for the kid. Just train him and find the eventual limit of the kid, and push him until those limits break and shatter into a million or thousands of pieces.
Talent was always something the organization kept an eye on, and it made Sharon sick to her spine. They cultivated talent, brewing it in the web of lies, and threw out any and all things that they couldn’t use anymore. Sharon did not want to think about what would happen to Fubuki if the boy finally reached his absolute breaking point. Being the boss’ son wouldn’t change that at all. In fact, it might even make it worse for Fubuki, like it did for Sharon…
So, Sharon could not help but feel terribly anxious as she drove the kid over to the shooting range, where a single figure dressed head to toe in black stood, silver hair waving in the wind. She let the quiet kid go off, and he did it admirably with an absolute look of carefully-knitted apathy.
She had told him beforehand that emotionlessness was what was going to work best with a man like Gin, and it was like Fubuki was a master disguiser. Like another mask had suddenly developed and Sharon watched as the monotone expression fell ashen over Fubuki’s face.
He left the car in slow motion, twisting the car door before stepping out. Sharon let her eyes follow the kid before she left, to the separate room where she was allowed to watch the training; she was Fubuki’s supervisor and caretaker, after all.
She watched the screens intently, and listened through the various bugs spread throughout the shooting range. She watched, as the kid walked towards Gin, whose expression was motionless as grey-green eyes trailed over Fubuki.
The first to initiate conversation was Fubuki, who probably realized that given Gin’s stubbornly cold personality, he wasn’t going to say anything unless the former began. “Hi, Gin-nii-sama,” the kid greeted politely, waving with a subtle smile on his otherwise ashen face.
“...There will be no questions about what you will be doing today.” Gin completely ignored the ovation, much to Sharon’s aggravation. “I’m certain Vermouth would have filled you in on your shooting training, and how I will be your little babysitter for today. Bozu, you will be using this gun, for now.”
Sharon watched the man in black brought out a small handgun and pawned it to the kid, who stared at it with such an intense look that framed Fubuki’s delicate features perfectly. “The recoil shouldn’t be bad. But if it’s too much for your tiny little body to handle, then-”
“Forgive me for interrupting, but I can handle it just fine,” Fubuki snapped, and it was the first time that Sharon had heard the boy with more than a mere tone of light and childish irritation in his voice. Perhaps he didn’t want to be seen as a kid who couldn’t take care of himself. Or, maybe he didn’t like being treated as a kid despite his petitely shaped stature. There has to be something to explain his actions.
Gin raised his eyebrows, and Sharon wanted to snap the man’s neck off as a long, sly smirk crossed his face like lightning. Why were all of the people that her father recruited such eccentric, terrible people? From Kir, as fake as could be, to Bourbon, who was too sharp, to Rum who was sly and impatient, and Gin, the most suspicious one of them all. If a kid saw Gin, there would be no doubts that the child would call the police on the silver-haired man.
“...Fine. Go shoot from the meter line, brat.” Gin pointed over at a line marked with bright red, and stoically the kid walked over. Admirably playing the role of the emotionless boy that Sharon had told him to be.
The metallic gun in Fubuki’s hand seemed to be shaking, before Sharon realized that it was Fubuki shaking. No matter how much she liked the kid, she could do nothing about it now. It all came down to his own ability to deduce the way of gun-shooting.
He bends down to one knee, which was strange- expert marksmen would do such a thing, but it was practically useless against a small kid like Fubuki. But he held the gun with a single hand, his right, and closed an eye- Gin smirked. It was probably so painfully clear to him that this was Fubuki’s first time ever holding a gun, much less shooting it.
A deep breath came into the kid’s throat, before he let it out and opened his eyelids to release wide, sapphire eyes that seemed intently focused on the middle of the target, and if looks could kill, the target would have been stabbed to death already.
His small finger inched closer to the release point of the gun.
Gin’s intense stare and smile grew bigger.
Sharon wanted to smash the screen.
Bam. The sound of a gun triggering a bullet, shooting across the field before the recoil finally settles into Fubuki, who wobbled his waist before going up to the strange stance and shooting consecutively once more- one, two, three, four… five shots, in order, and all in an instant without Fubuki ever falling backwards or tumbling out of view of the camera.
With a single tap, Gin signified that the first round was over and Fubuki let the gun hand loosely by his side, staring holes into the surrounding area.
The target was brought closer to Fubuki, and the camera was just in focus to see a fair chunk of the middle of the target blown out by holes. Sharon drew in a shaky breath at the look of stoic apathy over the kid’s face. Not a single care, just like Sharon told him.
He was too good at following instructions. Five shots, all crowded in the middle to make a perfect shot.
Sharon blinked three times, processing everything in her mind as she slyly glanced at the gun she always held next to her chest for safety. It took her two years to reach that level, and that was through meticulous training given by the boss himself, and…
Fubuki was a brilliant genius among men, there was no doubt about that. Sharon didn’t know how to feel- somewhere torn between minor envy and pride. Again, she reminded herself… There is a reason that Fubuki has her father’s respect, and it wouldn’t be something as minor as gentle, caressing looks or a well-built, physical figure, even though Fubuki only had the former. Short and slim and thin, it was hard to see at first glance what had caught the boss’ eye about the kid.
Then again, Bourbon was recruited purely for his mind and for his martial art skills. There was always a reason for every member, a reason that their role exists. Though there is an extremely high chance of the organization being infested with rats, each rat didn’t dare to stand out above the rest.
“...Brat.” Gin’s voice suddenly called, and it was like iced water being poured over her head, how much of a wake-up call that was. Sharon blinked before staring at the computer screen once more, and she rubbed her eyes tiredly. Looking at a lighted screen in such a dark environment made her eyes itch with an echo of tiredness. “That wasn’t bad. Was it your first time shooting a gun?”
“...Second time. I used a sniping rifle once two years ago, when some officer was trying to kill… a friend, and I had to take the rifle from afar and shoot behind that officer’s feet so that my friend could escape... Or else he would have been stabbed to death.” Sharon blinked- it was her first time ever hearing that Fubuki had a childhood friend.
Now that she thought about it, she realized that she had never thought about what Fubuki’s life was like before the boss had introduced him to Sharon and put the kid in her care. She had never considered what might have happened to make the kid a nervous wreck when they first met, and what made the brilliance underneath that mask. It probably hadn’t been easy, but then again- when has any member of the organization ever had a simple, happy life?
Being the boss’ kid must not be easy. It never was, for Sharon either, but she was never recognized as his daughter until later in her teens. Not until she had finally accomplished something did her father say once that she was his daughter. Before then, it was an endless mission to finally get the boss’ acknowledgement, and when she did, she found out that it was all for nothing. She was worked to the bone afterwards…
For Fubuki to have earned that very same acknowledgement at his age, he must have done something so extraordinary that father had already claimed him as his son. Then again, given how old the boss was… age wouldn’t matter to a man who was close to conquering immortality.
“I see. Not bad then, kid.” Gin’s face suddenly split a scary smile that made Sharon press her face closer to the screen. “Do the next round, too.”
“Yes, Gin-nii-sama.”
“You thirsty? Shooting must have a toll on your small body.”
“...Yes, please,” Fubuki politely answered as Gin gave him a pop can. “...Didn’t think you were the type to buy a bottle of pop for a kid, though. Not when you don’t seem to like me.” The kid twisted the cap open, eyes focused on only the pop as something about his expression tightened. The shooting grounds were silent, the peace disturbed only by Gin’s chilling words.
He laughed coldly. “Happened to pick some up, on the way here. When I heard that I’d be training a ten-year-old kid, I figured I should bring some along. Especially because I’ve seen how skinny you are. Vermouth should really feed you more.”
It was like the stoic mask had been ripped off, because the monotone expression that Fubuki had suddenly lifted into the childish innocence that Sharon had seen many, many, many times before now. “No! Sharon-nee-sama’s really kind to me! I get more food than I usually do, anyways.” He smiled, and it was the first genuine smile Sharon has seen on screen since she started to watch through the camera. Perhaps her affection for the kid went both ways.
“Is that so?” Gin placed a hand onto Fubuki’s head and ruffled the kid’s hair, and it was something so unlike how he is that Sharon had to rub at her eyes to make sure she saw it right. There was no way that Gin was showing affection, right? “Well, drink up. We don’t have all day. Rum wants you to go through all the ranges by the end of today.”
As told, obedient like the Fubuki Sharon recognized, he held the can and the boy tipped the bottle of pop to his pale lips and- stopped, placing the plastic bottle down next to him, on the concrete ledge, carelessly letting the contents of the drink spill out.
“Hmm..?” Gin asked, raising an eyebrow. “Not thirsty anymore? It’s not good to waste, you know.” Gin talking about what was good for a human to do was so strange that it made Sharon squint. The silver-haired man never cared about what was right and wrong. He was a bloodlusting monster who chose to leave everything in his past life for the organization.
The friendly kid-like expression that was just on Fubuki’s face seconds ago evaporated instantly, and he looked at Gin, staring daggers into those ice-cold eyes of the silver-haired man. “...What did you put in there?” He asked, and Sharon blinked along with Gin.
Did Gin dare to try to poison or immobilize Fubuki? He wouldn’t, right? He wouldn’t dare to go against Sharon’s orders to not harm Fubuki without her permission, the one thing that she’d never give to Gin?
Then again, with Rum above her in authority for the kid, Gin pulling something like this wasn’t entirely impossible… Rum was prone to putting people to tests to figure out their worth… That impatient, phony and sly vexated man! There wasn’t a single positive trait about him! Just couldn’t go ahead and tell Sharon, couldn’t he!?
Gin would definitely try to kill one of their own, if it put a stop to his everlasting bloodlust. He wasn’t a man that cared for anything but himself and the organization.
Rum… I’ll be putting an eye on you. Sharon bitterly watched the screen, twirling her own hair. At times like this she was glad the kid was so sharp. But it was a mystery how he knew that there was something wrong with the drink; from a day to day basis Sharon had wondered if Fubuki actually had the power to read minds. Sometimes, he’d ask why she went out to a mountain house in a white taxi, or why she went into a bakery to buy a cake that she didn’t bring back or eat without her ever mentioning anything about it.
“...You knew I slipped a few too many sleeping pills in the drink.” Whenever Gin asked something, it never seemed like a question- more like a definite statement that was demanding straight answers. His eyebrow was lifted higher, with an expression of bored curiosity like he didn’t care about it at all.
Fubuki nodded, still on guard and glittering, sapphire eyes trailing the silver-haired man’s every move. This was one of those times where Sharon wished- just for a heartbeat- that her wish of the destruction of the organization came true, and she could rush in to help Fubuki. Gin wasn’t a person anyone could deal with alone, pardon from the boss and Rum, much less a pretty ten-year-old kid who defied the logic of the brain. In fact, it might not be a stretch for Gin to be suddenly annoyed and decide to pull out a gun to shoot Fubuki with. No matter how sharp or how quick his reaction was, Fubuki’s small frame couldn’t escape the grasp of Rum.
“...Of course I noticed. It would be extremely hard to not realize something was wrong when there was no sound of carbon escaping or bubbles rising to the top of the drink when I twisted the cap open.” Sharon blinked.
“...Is that so?” After retracting his hand from his pocket, where surely there was a gun, Gin suddenly laughed, and it was a genuine one- still icy, yet not as cold-worded as before. “I see now why you already have a codename at your age, Kirsche .”
A pause.
“I see. So that’s how it is,” Fubuki blinked, and all of a sudden the youthful eyes were back with what might even be a smirk on the kid’s face. “You were testing me, weren’t you? No, some higher up was trying to test me. If I failed, my life would be forfeit.” He suddenly shuddered in realization, putting one hand to his mouth to cover it. “To think I might have died today, to Gin-nii-sama poisoning me in a drink.”
“That would be funny.” Gin looked down at the kid with a glare. “I would have terribly enjoyed watching you choke on air and seeing you sleep. Eternally.” The gun which was in his pocket that he didn’t touch before suddenly came out, so quickly, that it made Fubuki flinch and move out of the way of the silver-haired member’s hand. “Of course, I could still kill you. Watch you bleed to death with fear on your face.”
“...Don’t bother intimidating me. You’ve already ran out of bullets, haven’t you?”
Now it was Gin’s turn to pause. He did, for a good heartbeat, before putting that hand back into the black-clad pocket and chuckled, deciding to stop standing and sat on the concrete next to Fubuki. Seeing that guy so close to her sibling made Sharon uncomfortable. If only shooting the screen could be equivalent to shooting Gin in real life…
“Hah. A little mind-reader, aren’t you? You’re almost like Bourbon, in that sense. Always prying into others’ business.”
“Amuro-nii-sama?”
“...Yes. That poisonous rat.” As if in deep thought, he looked killingly at the wall in front of them, before continuing on at Fubuki’s curious look. “Brat, I was not kidding about having to finish shooting by today. Come take this gun, this time; and shoot the next round before I reload my gun and actually shoot you.”
“Okay, Gin-nii-sama!” It was like he forgot Sharon’s words, and regained the kid-like attitude again and dropped the monotone facade. Perhaps he felt safer with Gin now. Which was ridiculous; just standing next to the guy was a danger; and Sharon never knew how Vodka stayed alive this long. Perhaps it was because he was dumb as a trash bag and just the type of brute that was good to use in Gin’s self-motivated plans. Or maybe it was because Gin viewed the guy as an “inexperienced little brother” type, because Gin was never so patient with anyone else but Vodka.
At least Fubuki didn’t die. Sharon herself will be having a conversation with Rum and Gin later, respectively, and make sure that they don’t ever pull something like this on Fubuki ever again.
=====
It was going to be Fubuki’s first mission. First one, in the five months that Sharon had been with the kid, and it wasn’t going to be anything terrible. She could see that behind his mask of being perfectly fine with what he had to do, Fubuki was trembling at the thought of having to do something truly bad. Something that would taint the pure soul which laid underneath the quiet, disclosed kid. And he confronted that fear of fear, with a forced layer of calm.
It wouldn’t be easy. Not with two lives at stake, and practically everyone involved depending on him. Bourbon and Rum were busy with another mission overseas and couldn’t make it back in time. So, the responsibility fell onto Fubuki’s small shoulders, as per the boss’ orders. As if the man knew that there was something else Fubuki could do.
He was to concoct a plan worthy of being called even Shakespeare’s play, something so brilliant that it would be easy to match those Sherlock Holmes novels that the kid loved and caressed so dearly. It would be a way to get Chianti and Korn out of a tight spot with twenty FBI on their tail and ready to take them into custody or shoot their hearts out with no mercy.
Chianti and Korn were working together with two nameless grunts, one female and one male, and both were shot through the chest with guns and laid dead and stiff. Sharon knew that, and Fubuki knew that, and also knew that if the kid didn’t play his cards right, Chianti and Korn would end up like that, too.
Fubuki was sitting by a desk with six different screens, four of which were displaying info at an alarming rate, and the other two on some graphing program where he was clicking a mouse over dots and typing in a mix of Japanese kanji, hiragana and English. Everything was happening so quickly that Sharon, who was watching from behind, could not help but stare.
Finally, enough was enough. “Fubuki. Take a break, right now.” Sharon ordered, and knowing the kid’s obedient personality he would comply immediately. And like she expected, he stopped moving, reading off the ever-quickly scrolling screen and his right hand stopped typing and clicking with the mouse.
“...I can’t. If I stop now, the nee-sama and nii-sama will die, won’t they?” Quietly, Fubuki sniffled. “I don’t want anyone to die because of me. I don’t want to be a murderer.” And he looked at the tips of his fingers in weary fear.
It was almost laughable, if it wasn’t for the fact that Sharon has started to grow on the kid and that Fubuki was literally shaking in his shows at the moment- after all, for an organization member to fear killing was like a salonist fearing touching hair.
“No. If you work yourself to death now, you’ll be too frail to be our director to execute this plan of yours later.” Sharon pointed out, and this seemed to strike something in Fubuki’s logical mind as he moaned painlessly and stared in futile.
“...Of course you are right, Sharon-nee-sama…” He stared emptily, glancing occasionally at the screens that he was doing something on. “Sorry… I just… I feel like it’s too simple. I feel like they have another objective, too...” Fubuki sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and then lying down on the desk.
Sharon kind of understood. It was like when she was a small kid, suspicious of everything but wanting to be a good person that would never have to hold the lives of others in her palm. It was different now- she couldn’t care less about life. Not when she frequently washed her hands with icy water of blood.
Fubuki was still a child. A brilliant one with near-endless merit, yes, but just a pure, naive child that doesn’t know that all characters in a play eventually have to get character development and realize that the world wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows and there were just some things that couldn’t be changed by one person alone.
“It’s fine. Just take a break from that screen or you’ll lose your vision,” she joked lightly, hoping to make the kid’s mood slightly better. It worked, and he brightened up and jumped off the chair and stretched innocently.
He twirled once, before taking a sip of what might be coffee from a cutesy adolescent cup and sat down on the couch next to the monitors and flipped the light switch, the light coming on in one sudden movement that made Fubuki rub his eyes.
He mumbled something underneath his breath before looking straight at Sharon with soft features. “Thanks, Sharon-nee-sama,” he laughed, almost carefreely. “I should probably sit here and reconsider the plan I have in mind… if there’s some serious loophole I didn’t think of, the nee-sama and nii-sama won’t be alive by morning…”
“Care to explain it?” Sharon asked with a friendly smile that she knew from experience was to ease even the most tense of people. “Then we can both look for loopholes, and I can help with patching anything needed up.”
Fubuki beamed. “Really...? You wouldn’t mind...?” There was eerie stress in his tone. The actress nodded slowly, adding on to the comfort her posture would provide. She was playing the classic “big-sister role” in this show, and it was sweet as honey. Fubuki trusted her completely and utterly. Like he should, she reminded herself- that was her job, as his caretaker and sister.
“Well… First, the nee-sama and nii-sama will need to head to the docks…”
They were there now, Chianti and Korn, both staring in stress. It was the dead middle of night, silver moon full and brightly shining, casting an equally dark shadow over their faces. Sharon knew that Korn was a perfectionist but his hair was all disheveled and his hate in tatters, and the usually broad and smug smirk that hovered over Chianti’s face wasn’t present. The actress knew that it was really bad when those two normally very apparent traits weren’t there.
Sharon herself was on a motorcycle, watching from a distance, with Gin, Vodka, Kir, Rye and Scotch all on standby. It seemed like everyone was completely decked out for this mission to save Chianti and Korn- and to think it all laid on Fubuki- no, Kirsche’s small, fragile shoulders.
He’s special. That’s what the boss had told her. And the boss had complete faith that Kirsche was enough to pull off making an ingenious plan that would save the two codenamed members of the FBI agents without a single casualty on their side.
So, Sharon would trust Fubuki. The plan really was worthy of everything less than absolutely brilliant. She couldn’t doubt the kid’s brilliance now, not when everything mattered for these thirty minutes.
Everything would end. Like a movie shot, except it was a scene of life-and-death and there was only one chance for every character to be played. Even so, she still had her own fears- what if someone didn’t play their role well? It wasn’t like Sharon particularly cared for any member of the organization, save for Gin and Fubuki… but if members died during the operation, she was sure that the boss would have Fubuki’s head. They couldn’t afford to lose codenamed members in a fight against the FBI.
“...Is everyone on standby?” Through the communicator in her ear, Sharon heard the lighthearted and childish voice of Kirsche, and she sent an affirmative, as did everyone else. Through this, she realized- there was not a single person who doubted the boss. And because of their absolute faith, they trusted (or at least, semi-trusted) that whatever Kirsche did was going to be the correct move, because the kid- for now- was the absolute will of the boss. It didn’t matter if he was just a mere child; because whatever the boss said was the single, authoritized best move for their cause.
“Alright. Nii-sama… no, it’ll be hard to differentiate- Korn, do you know where the agents on your tail are? And did the magnet work?” She heard the hiccup in his words, and recognized Gin’s snort from the black car around the corner. It was the first time that Fubuki had ever called someone in the organization, or anyone older than him, without an honorific. It looked like he was truly serious and wanted to save time, this moment.
The operation was beginning. Sharon herself pulled a sharp, shaky breath and solidified her own, true faith in Kirsche. They would not fail. Not now.
“Three are in the south, on the hills, hiding in the trees, five in the north next to the park fountain, ten are approaching us through the fishing buildings in the east and I do not know where the other two are, and the signal worked really well.” Korn answered perfectly, and Sharon heard some fierce tapping before the continuous confidence that he was right seeped back into Kirsche’s voice.
The confidence that he was right.
“...As I thought. Chianti, there is an extremely high chance that the two missing agents are actually coming to you through a small boat from the island across from you. Position your rifle to the island. Korn, please be alert and make sure nobody will disturb Chianti during this time.” Both did as told, and the orange-haired member pulled out her long-ranged gun and positioned it. “This right, bozu? ”
“Ten degrees left- yes, right there. When I give the signal, shoot one, move downwards one degree, shoot again, then move the angle three degrees right and shoot another time. Do it in the course of two seconds.” A soft huffle of breath. “Kir, catapult the thing I handed you earlier to the direction that Chianti is pointing the rifle at. Gin, Vodka, during that very signal please move through the directions I have sent you. Rye, move in over that position, angle is thirty-six degrees from where you currently are facing. Lastly, Sha- Vermouth move close to the docks and throw that to them, and Scotch assist her and make sure that Vermouth does not get hurt on the way.” Kirsche ordered, and suddenly a boost of confidence arose in not the kid but in Sharon- perhaps hearing the usually nervous kid suddenly confident in his own plan made it better for her, too. The casual words would probably make Gin chuckle if not for the fact that they needed to be quiet at the second.
A few heartbeats passed in silence, all of them just waiting for the signal to come.
Many quiet moments later, Kirsche suddenly struck up, spelling into the communicator: “Now. Everyone- move out!” Sharon immediately lit up her motorcycle, flashed it twice to signal to Scotch where she was, and turned off the headlight completely and grasped the drawstring bag she was going to apport with an iron grip. Two consecutive gunshots, with a third following quickly, rang throughout the air in the quick moment of two seconds and a fourth loud clang reverberated in midair.
“Kir, Rye- shoot!” Kirsche’s next orders came so quickly that it was like a commander on a battlefield.
Another gunshot was fired, a large exploding sound following quickly after, but what was unexpected was Rye’s bullet diving straight overhead. She had no idea that Rye was this close to her- and if what she thought was right, and Rye was a rat, he could have just as easily blown her head off. Dangerous.
The sound of a loud rush on the ocean across from the docks that Chianti and Korn were facing was enough to get her attention, and Sharon looked over and saw the waves engulfing a ship that shouldn’t have been in eye’s range, for not the casted pieces now exploding out. “That’s two agents down. Rye, move to position two and Korn, do you see any agents around you?”
“Nobody within clever shooting distance, but the ten in the buildings are coming closer.” Despite his elderly appearance, Korn had extremely sharp eyesight and an incredible memory that matched with how well he was able to sense things.
“...That’s good. Gin, Vodka, route three?” A quick grunt from Vodka did it all, and Sharon was certain that the scarily clean grin was now over Kirsche’s face. No matter how much the little kid stressed over things, when it was time to shine- he would pull it off. The adrenaline comes to him, boosting his steps and orders.
“Alright. Settle to the position that I said earlier. You prepared the baking soda, nitric acid, sulfuric acid and cotton pad, right?” Sharon wondered what it was for, but didn’t ask. She trusted Kirsche. No need to doubt it all now. When Gin gave the affirmative, Kirsche grinned- or at least, Sharon imagined that he did.
“Did they suspect?”
“...No.”
Silence echoed, and for a second Sharon was afraid that something happened to their control center. But his voice came back quickly.
“Aha. ...That’s how it is going to be. Alright, this might actually go smoother than I thought… Chianti, Korn, Kir, all of you head to the center ploy. Rye, move to the second position. Are you close to the destination, Vermouth and Scotch?”
“Yes,” It was Scotch that answered instead of Sharon, and she was glad. The actress was focused in her own world. Too busy on everything that’s going on- she didn’t want to talk. “Okay. In approximately three minutes one of the enemies will definitely light something up into the air. When that happens, Vermouth throw that and Chianti and Korn, put it on immediately. For the last moment… well.” For the first time since the operation began, Sharon heard some uncertainties in Kirsche- Fubuki’s voice. “Rye, it’ll be all you. I trust that you’ll do what I discussed earlier, right…?”
“...Of course… Are the agents dead?” Slowly, Rye’s deep voice rang out through all of their ears and it was such a stark contrast to Kirsche’s soft, kidly voice that it made Sharon shudder. It was the first time that he spoke in a complete sentence since it all began.
Kirsche sounded like he was smiling. “No. Chianti’s really amazing… she managed to hit exactly where I wanted without her ever actually seeing the target.” He laughed, and Sharon did too, hearing such a lighthearted noise in a dark time, but the good mood was ruined as she heard Chianti’s lowly voice.
“Hmm? You wanna go into just how amazing I am, boya? ” She gave a hearty chuckle, and for once Sharon admired her and her tenaciously aggressive personality. Chianti could still laugh, in light of her dire situation- she could be dead the next second, if the boya she was talking about had calculated even one step wrong.
“Of course- I mean, it’s kind of unbelievable, really. You couldn’t even see the small ship, and yet you managed to hit exactly right to the chest of the guy on the left. Of course, it’s to be expected since they were FBI, that they wouldn’t be hit. Then you aimed exactly at the guy’s shoes, and he toppled over, and when the second guy was trying to realize what was happening, you shot at his shoes too. They both fell over on the ground and then Kir gave them one big smoke grenade. Of course, Rye’s really amazing too… he hit the control tank and the ship sank, but they shouldn’t be dead. It’s just that all of their equipment is electrical, confirmed by Korn, and it shouldn’t work anymore.”
“...I see.” Rye said curtly, while Chianti laughed delightfully, and Sharon swore she heard even Gin snort in the back. It was pretty amusing.
“...Alright, the three minutes are almost up- Gin, Vodka, is it ready?” Something seemed to be relieved in him when they confirmed their preparedness. “This is good. Rye, in position?” Rye gave a thumbs-up, too.
A single flash in the air caused them all to still, and Sharon realized it was exactly what Kirsche had predicted. She willed her motorbike faster, letting the dirt fly into the air behind her as she reached the docks on a cliff, the edge ready and ruthless and one false step, she’d be dead-
No time. The drawstring bag was of utmost importance, and she threw it as quickly as she could to Chianti, who caught it and took out the two packs, one for each of them. They tucked it in their eerily black jackets, and a single sound of smirking from Kirsche informed that the whole plan was set up, from the beginning.
“Gin! Vodka! Now!” In one moment, an explosion occurred- grey smoke casted itself across all fields, and when it parted, it revealed fire, actual, raging-hot fire sped up from nowhere and sparked like a torch had been thrown onto the woods. Flames like the tongue of the devil ate everything in its path and left only ashes.
Like moths drawn to a flame, FBI agents flooded in, trying to cool down the fire to prevent it from spreading with the sand from the docked beach and one of them screamed , screamed for a person from the mountains to shoot, and out of the corner of her eye Sharon just barely saw the glimmer of metal before the sound of two other consecutive bullets was fired that dark night, underneath something as fake as the silver of the moon.
Small and unassuming and the bullets striked straight into both Chianti and Korn’s chests, right before a gasp of alarm went through the communicators. Blood sprayed out, red and hot and they both fell, their forms touching the wooden dock before Gin swore and Kir threw another bomb of smoke.
When all the gas finally disappeared, the fire was all gone. Like magic, or like some mysterious force had swept it all away with the wind. All that remained… were the charred corpses of Chianti and Korn, laying dead with ashes over the wood of the docks.
They had failed. Chianti and Korn were dead.
…
..
.
...Or at least, that’s what must have gone through each FBI’s head at the moment, as Gin expressed hearty laughter, and Kir laid out a smile. They had all gathered, back inside Gin and Vodka’s massive, dark car and sat tiredly among the seats.
“I can’t believe that worked! Oh my lord, those FBI rats look so happy! ” Chianti laughed, direly, his eyes weary with work but still a genuine laugh nonetheless. “Nice shot, Rye!”
It was rare for Chianti to compliment anyone, and it seemed Rye had picked up on this too because he nodded, giving off a grim smile. “Still, that was one working of a plan, concocted by our young member over there…”
“No, it’s thanks to all of you.” Fubuki’s youthful voice washed out all the worries Sharon had, and she wished she could take the kid into her arms and hug at that very moment- everything was fine. She never thought his predictions would go so far, would be so correct, and would work so well against a group supposedly as well-working as the FBI. “It’s not gonna last for long, though, so I figure we have a good ten minutes before they realize the corpse were fake.”
“Care to explain the trick, bozu? ” Kir asked, tapping. That’s right , Sharon reminded herself- Kir never knew the whole plan. Only a handful of people did, that being Sharon, Gin, Rye, and Fubuki himself. Chianti and Korn didn’t even know everything themselves, in case they were bugged and things were going wrong.
On the bug, Sharon could hear Fubuki smiling. “Of course.”
“I already explained how the ship sank, but I figured they would try to signal to their comrades as soon as they could see Chianti-nee-sama and Korn-nii-sama on the docks, so that manual flash was them. Beforehand, I asked Gin-nii-sama and Vodka-nii-sama to prepare everything required to make flash paper. But it would be a special kind of flash paper, because they couldn’t exactly walk into a convenience store to buy some, and this kind works better anyways. If you only thinly coat the cotton with the acidic mixture between baking soda, nitric acid, and sulfuric acid, then the flash paper lasts quite a bit longer.
“Then, the flash happened and Gin-nii-sama and Vodka-nii-sama threw the paper and activated it with a match, and the paper lit up into flames. That’s when Vermouth-nee-sama threw the bag with fake blood packs at them, and then a sniper was supposed to kill them. But I already told them where the bullet would be coming from beforehand and they put their gun into that particular place, then Rye-nii-sama shot the blood pack, and it seemed exactly like Chianti-nee-sama and Korn-nii-sama had died!
“Then, another smoke grenade was put out by Kir-nee-sama, and… to those two members that died… an apology towards them, but they were dressed up like them and had a shot through the heart, and I figured they were buried there at the docks because Chianti-nee-sama and Korn-nii-sama were wet. They were replaced as Chianti-nee-sama and Korn-nii-sama’s corpses, and the fire burned their features to ashes so they wouldn’t be able to tell until they checked the heights… which are completely different. I figure we have time before then, so-”
He cut off suddenly, Sharon smirked.
“Nicely done, Fubuki.”
Silence from the other line. Then;
“SHAR-”
Sharon looked at Gin, then at Kir and Chianti to see if they heard anything. Nothing. And a dark feeling approached Sharon, and she felt like something was terribly, terribly wrong.
No. Was there an actual loophole to their plan? Where? It was all executed perfectly, so what happened? “The brat?” Gin asked, and it snapped Sharon out of her deathly thoughts. She had to contain rational behavior and know where the kid was. Cool-headed Sharon was the logical Sharon that was able to keep up the name Vermouth.
Her mind went through an adventure, hopping from each clue to another- grasping for something, anything that could contain the truth. And one quote that Fubuki himself had copied from Sherlock Holmes echoed in her mind emptily; “ When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”
...
“No way,” She gasped sharply as her mind reached the answer, and she held onto the strand with bulging, large eyes. “No. It can’t be- I- Alright, I see. Was this what Yukiko was planning, this entire time?”
“Hmm?” Rye asked, putting a hand onto Scotch’s shoulder. “What is it, Vermouth?”
“...They didn't just have one objective- Fubuki was right.” She covered her mouth and Sharon’s face paled, now from sickly pale to completely drained of all color. “They had another. They- they kidnapped Fubuki, didn’t they?”
Alarm paused the entire care, and suddenly the bright atmosphere turned dim and everything seemed hostile. Sharon bit her lips. Was this it? Was this the one piece of the puzzle she should have seen coming, but hadn’t!?
“Who?” Gin asked.
“...It’s the Kudous. I believe… That woman, Yukiko Kudou, has taken Fubuki.” She gulped. Somehow, she knew she was right, and it struck such a cold feeling into her heart. Did she let that happen? How in the world did she not see it coming? “I-”
“.. .Vermouth .”
She froze, slowly tilting her head up at the voice, where Gin was holding up a single phone with a killing smirk over his face.
“ ...Explain.”
======
He didn’t know where he was.
Groggily, and as far as he could tell, it was someone with light, but he had something over his eyes and an uncomfortable hood over his bodice, clinging onto his stomach. Two people were talking, presumably one male and one female, both of them chatting so sweetly when he was lying down somewhere in an unknown place. The heavy smell of classic literature washed over his nose, and he sneezed lightly, wanting to stretch.
Where was he…?
He poked around. Something soft was tucked over and underneath him, so he was probably lying down on a bed, next to a pair of husband and wife who were sitting at a table. By how carefree they were, it was almost like they were waiting for him to wake.
“Oh, he’s up!” A cheery female voice called, confirming his thoughts,, and whatever was over his face was removed, and a golden light shone into his eyes. “Woah, he really is pretty!” She laughed, and it made his heart flutter at the praise. He didn’t understand why, but knew as some rule in his heart that he didn’t need to understand unnecessary feelings. He was supposed to follow orders at all costs, and be a perfect, obedient… “Hi! I’m Yukiko!”
He realized that thinking wasn’t the equivalent of talking, and that they couldn’t hear what he was thinking in the empty space known as his head. What was he doing? Something felt off, and he poked around, flying in a dark landscape in the land of his mind. He tried using his voice, but it felt hoarse and chapped. It came out more raspy than he would have liked. “Yu-ki...ko…?”
Was that correct? Did he do well, and talk properly, and do exactly what he was told at the best a human could possibly do it? A tremble went throughout his body, and he shuddered. Wasn’t he supposed to add an honorific after calling a person’s name, to establish a friendly relationship and ensure that he would not… die? Who taught him that?
He blinked. What ?
His head felt black and white and blotchy, the smell of all the freshly printed pages soaring into his nose… Perhaps that was it’s intention, to woo him with that smell and render him unable to think. No, that would not be the case. He would think. Truthfully, he didn’t know if the pretty lady and the handsome man were bad guys or not, but they certainly didn’t seem to hold any malice towards him...
... “Hahah! Fu…-kun, you sure are stubborn, aren’t you?” someone’s, whose, whose, voice called, laughing heartily underneath the sun. “But you know, that’s part of why I like you so much.”
...Who was that? It seemed like an old, foggy memory, with the face of someone scratched out. He blinked, sapphire eyes sparkling, and long lashes battering as he rubbed at his eyes. Was he hallucinating, or dreaming? But if he was dreaming, then he wouldn’t be able to think so clearly… it always felt hard to deduce things when you were in a dream. Something was wrong.
His memory. It was all scrambled, no, missing from his brain. He didn’t know what he was doing. Angry, he blinked again, but kept a calm tone. “Mister and miss…” he spoke quietly, deciding to speak to the first resource he had available, and something in him told him not to speak loudly. “...Do you happen to know who I am..?”
This seemed to be unexpected for the two of them, but the woman smiled brightly and patted him on the head before exchanging someone of a dark look with the other man. He blinked. What did it all mean? Some things weren’t going to be resolved by secretive nods.
“You forgot…?” The woman, Yukiko, asked, eyes watering immediately and he was shocked by it, stumbling back. “...I guess it’s to be expected… you did have an accident, after all…” She cried, and even the stern-looking man behind gave off a sorrowful aura.
“I guess I’ll introduce us again… I’m Yukiko, an actor, and your mother, and this is Yuusaku, a writer and the cleverest man ever, your father!” She laughed childishly, unfit for her clear age. “And you? You’re our son!”
“Your son…?”
“Yup! Shinichi! Kudou Shinichi!”