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wil-is-done · 1 year

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Officer Subaru’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day - Chapter 2: Miracle Stealer

Summary: On the early morning of her twenty second birthday, Officer Oozora Subaru is kidnapped by a blue-haired psychopath to become a living gift to an infantile sugar princess. Somehow, her day gets worse.

Word Count: 3.651

Breathe. Inhale, exhale. Like Sui-chan, The Comet has a reputation to uphold, as a professional in her line of work who finishes the job no matter what. This is just another job, and Kiryu Coco is just another client.

“You let her in first?! The hell, Kanata?!”

A very strange, very dangerous client.

The door behind Suisei burst open, and sauntering into her own extravagant office is the Dragon of Hollow City, the head of the Kiryu Clan, Kiryu Coco, in a tracksuit with a half-eaten dumpling in her mouth and an extra large Dr. Oopsie in her hand. Here to give the Comet her first real job as her subordinate.

“Shui-chan!” she greets with a full mouth, crossing the room to her revolving, dark throne behind her desk. Throws the soda onto her desk, herself onto the chair, then swallows. “Sorry I made you wait. Go on, plop your ass down.”

Suisei narrows her eyes, says nothing, and remains standing.

“Oooh, Sui-chan is excited today too. I know how much you hate crap, so let’s cut it.”

Kiryu fishes out a green folder from the desk cabinet and flings it at her. Suisei snatches it out of the air.

“Your first mission for me,” Kiryu takes aim at the folder with her fingers, “Nab that girl and take her to the Sugar Castle.”

Suisei glances down. Clipped to the folder is a picture of a young woman, short hair, blue eyes, smiling, shining with life.

“Nab her?” Her gaze flits back to her employer. “Not kill her?”

Kiryu nods while taking another bite of the dumpling.

“Why?”

Kiryu starts clapping. “Yesh! That’sh what I wanna fhuckin’ shee!” Half chewed dumpling bits sputters from her mouth to the desk, then she remembers she has to swallow. “No blind loyalty, no unquestioning obedience here, no ma’am!”

“Just wondering if you remember what I specialize in.” Suisei takes a pointed step back.

Instead of answering, Kiryu swallows the rest of the dumpling with one big bite. She sits back, kicks both feet up onto the desk.

“Himemori Luna. Heard the name?”

Suisei tightens her jaw. “Vaguely.”

“She makes ‘sugar’ in her Castle. Really good sugar. It’s the key component to certain… addictive products out there in the market. It’s the main reason why they’re addictive.”

Explains why Suisei never heard the name much. She steers clear of that sordid business.

“She distributes to a bunch of different producers. Who gets it, how much they get; all entirely up to her. And baby princesses aren’t really attached to reason and logic.” Kiryu pauses for a smirk and a gross soda slurp. “So I got close to her a while back. Made her my baby. Pushed for her to give us exclusive rights to her sugar.”

“She agreed. On one condition.” She points again at the folder. “She wants that girl.”

Curiosity officially piqued. Suisei flips the folder open.

Officer Oozora Subaru. Newbie, in the force for about four months. Excellent academy scores from day one to graduation. One account of insubordination in her service, but otherwise, her record is practically spotless. A real life unicorn of law enforcement.

“A cop?” Eyes return to Kiryu, filled with more questions than answers. “Why’d she want this cop?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Kiryu loosens her shoulders, exaggerates a shrug. Frankly, neither does Suisei. The reason why the sugar princess wants a cop, let alone one as squeaky-clean as this Subaru girl, is best left to the minds of the chronically rich.

“Nab the cop and give her to Luna. As long as the baby princess has her, we have exclusive rights to her sugar. That’s a few dozen of our competitors instantly six feet under.” Kiryu’s usual grin graces the room, more dragon than human. “Hell, with this our product might even compete with Hope!”

Suisei lowers her gaze to the folder, skimming through the cop’s information, but mostly so she can avoid making eye contact with Kiryu. She knew the trade exists, and of course the Kiryu Clan has a stake in it. Her old clients probably had a stake in it. Doesn’t matter what she prefers. As long as her compensation is big enough, she’ll do it.

“You’ll be taking the lead. Towa’s your chaperone. Watame’s your getaway driver.” Kiryu takes a long, obnoxious slurp of soda. “Any questions?”

“Two,” Suisei quickly answers. “First. I’m a hitman.”

“Well, sor-ry I don’t got anyone that needs killing at the moment. Ya gotta take whatever life throws at ya.” Kiryu goes for another slurp, only to find the soda empty. She flings the empty bottle to a random corner. “Kill the doorman if that makes ya happy.”

Under her rumbling breath, Suisei growls, “I just might.”

“Second?”

For the first time since she stepped foot in this office, Suisei’s lips quirk upwards.

“How big can you make my next concert be?”

The crack of thunder. The rumble of industry. The roar of speeding cars with better places to be. A sleepless cacophony drenched in rain and neon. A picture-perfect example of another fine night out in Hollow City.

No one stops, no one cares, no one looks too closely. No one pays any mind to the UberSheep van parked at the side of one random intersection. No one knows about the three women on a stakeout inside, and that is how Suisei likes it.

“That’s her, huh?”

Her chaperone for the evening, the little devil-wannabe with a voice from heaven, leans over the front seat for a better look through the windshield. Standing in the middle of the intersection ahead, weighed down by the downpour, weaving between speeding cars, is rookie member of Hollow City’s finest, Officer Oozora Subaru.

“Fits the description.”

Still can’t figure out why Kiryu’s sugar princess would want such a clean cop. The dirty ones are the ones you want in your pocket. Maybe a more personal, physical reason? The cop doesn’t tick off any of Suisei’s boxes, but she’s pretty enough. Could go higher, but if the coochie wants what it wants, who’s Suisei to argue?

Towa returns to the back of the van, sitting across from Suisei. A troubled frown cracks across her face as she stares into empty space.

“The one good apple in the whole rotten barrel,” Towa says, low and heavy. “And we’re gonna steal her.”

Suisei shrugs it off. “Princess wants, princess gets.”

The hell’s her deal? Acting guilty, as if anyone in this city has the right. Better to use the time preparing their gear, make sure nothing is out of place.

“Watch yourself. Finger off the trigger.” Towa points at Suisei at the sight of her reaching for her gun case. Suisei stops, blinks. The fucking audacity saying that to her.

“Obviously. I’m not an amateur.” Suisei borrows a page from Sui-chan, and slips on a mask of smiles.

Towa crosses her arms, fidgeting. Like she’d rather be elsewhere. “Good. I want to make sure we don’t hurt anyone we don’t need to.”

The mask jostles. “What?”

“She lives in a crowded building. Worse comes to worst, I don’t want innocents getting caught in the crossfire.”

“What are you fucking talking about?” The mask shatters, pieces clattering to the floor. Suisei keeps her voice low, but the urge to wrap a fist around Towa’s throat is overwhelming. “Did Kiryu pull you out of a fucking convent? God.”

“More bodies mean more problems for the clan, okay?!” Towa quickly blurts, arms raised on the defensive. Suisei holds the glare a moment more, then drops it with a huff. Always pleasant to know she’s being chaperoned by some wide-eyed nun trying to act street. Wonder what fairy tale she jumped out of.

Suisei opens the case to greet a good evening to her trusty New Nambu M60. She takes the revolver out in one hand, and five 9mm bullets in the other, and slides out the cylinder.

“You can’t be using an antique.”

She pauses, inhales sharply. Some people just don’t know when to quit when they’re still breathing. “Reliable’s the word you’re looking for. Untraceable, too - 9mm bullets are everywhere in this city.”

“It’s a sixty year old five-shooter,” pushes Towa, for reasons unknown.

“Relax. I have a backup Glock.” Suisei smiles, the mask perfectly back on.

“The Nambu should be your backup!”

Suisei sits back, shrugs. “If Kiryu wants me, she’s getting all of me. Killer pipes, killer skills, shit gun taste; all in one package.”

Towa opens her mouth, then makes the smart decision to close it without saying anything. For a moment, torrential rainfall against the van and faint tinkling of steel on steel as Suisei inserts each bullet are the only sounds filling the air.

Suisei glances up as she inserts the last bullet and slides the cylinder back in place. “What are you packing?”

“A Glock.”

Yawn. Her chaperone’s mouthy and basic. “Stellar.”

Suisei, safety on, twirls the Nambu in her hand. Towa tugs on the collar of her borrowed UberSheep uniform. Who knows how the sheep up front is occupying herself?

“Oh!”

Watame’s noise draws Suisei and Towa to the front seat. She is pointing through the windshield.

“She’s moving. Her shift’s ended.”

True enough, another officer has run up to her, and after a brief exchange of words, Officer Subaru leaves her post and runs off for shelter from the rain.

“Follow her. Slowly, Watame.”

Watame nods. The van rumbles to life. Suisei’s lips, genuinely, curl upwards ever so slightly.

“And you, I’m serious,” warns Towa, face inches from Suisei’s, green eyes glowing in the dim interior. “Simple and clean is the way we’re doing it tonight.”

Suisei mocks a bite at Towa’s lips. Towa steels her expression, but the slight flinch is unmistakable, and draws a full grin from Suisei.

“Baby princess wants you for a playdate.”

Towa follows closely behind Suisei into the apartment as the girl – their target – backs away from the muzzle of Suisei’s revolver, arms raised.

“That’s it. Good girl,” Suisei coos. “No noises. No sudden movements.”

That tone, the blank, wide-eyed shock on the girl’s face, sends shivers down Towa’s spine. But she can’t show it. She kicks the door closed behind her, her eyes carved into a stony gaze, biting back a constant stream of apologies to their target. A devil does not apologize.

“So obedient, aren’t you?” A low giggle rumbles from Suisei’s still-grinning lips. “Let’s try another trick. Turn around, arms behind your back, and kneel.”

The girl inhales sharply, and gulps. “Listen, I’m nobody in the force, I just-”

A gunshot. Towa flinches. The girl jumps back, cowering, stumbling onto her bed. Terrified blue eyes stare at the smoking muzzle, and at the fresh bullet hole made between where her feet once stood.

“Have to follow everything I say!” Suisei’s grin is all teeth. Lightning flashes outside, the thunder an echo of her discharge, and her shadow blankets the entire room. “Understand?”

Wordless, panicked nodding. The girl trips over herself getting out of bed. She faces away from them, head bowed, and kneels on the floor, arms clasped together behind her back.

“Don’t be too scared.” Suisei crouches behind the poor girl, pressing her lips against her right ear. “Your new life starts tonight, officer.”

Towa waits until Suisei pulls away before she grabs her by the shoulder and yanks her back.

“What the hell?!” Towa yells in a whisper. The ease in which Suisei trades her manic grin to a light smile is unsettling.

“Your boss sent a killer for a kidnapping,” Suisei calmly whispers back. “Don’t act surprised when a bit of friction happens.”

“The noise-!”

“Will convince the sane and smart ones to look the other way.”

Towa grits her teeth behind tightened lips. “And what about the ones who aren’t sane and smart?”

“Your boss sent a killer.” Suisei taps the tip of Towa’s nose with a finger, then points at the kneeling girl. “Now, your turn.”

Suisei steps back, but Towa’s hair still stands on end. Out of sight, it’s as if she’s breathing down her neck, more than capable of shooting her in the back at any moment. A heart of ice, like a Comet.

But her attention can’t be focused on the cold presence behind her. They can’t afford to dawdle, so Towa kneels down and sets down the box she’s been carrying.

Towa is slow to retrieve everything she needs from the box. “Nothing personal, miss,” she whispers to the poor girl being pulled into this world against her will. At least Towa had a choice before taking the plunge

Hands ziptied together behind her back at the wrist. Mouth taped shut. Sleeping eye mask over her eyes. A too-large duster coat draped over her shoulders, to hide her bound arms. A face mask to hide her taped mouth. A pair of sunglasses to hide the eye mask. A wide-brimmed stetson on her head, just in case.

Towa feels sick, like she’s about to puke. But if Coco gives the word, she’ll do it all over again.

Towa takes the girl by her hidden arm and guides her to stand. Suisei rushes to the girl’s side and snatches her into a one-armed hug. “In case it’s not plainly obvious, you make noise, you try anything funny…” Lips inches from the girl’s ear, Suisei shoves her revolver against the girl’s ribs. “Understand?”

A muffled whimper and a nod. Suisei giggles. Towa narrows her attention on opening the apartment door.

“Your carriage awaits, officer.”

A young woman in a heavy coat with a wide hat exiting her apartment at one-thirty in the morning, flanked on either side by a pair of UberSheep employees. Odd, when you stop and think about it, but no one in Hollow City does.

Suisei is right; most folks are sane and smart enough to either turn the other cheek, or convinced themselves all they heard was the crack of thunder. Not a single bump in the short trip to the elevator. She shoots a smirk at Towa as they waited for the elevator’s arrival. Towa doesn’t notice, eyes focused on their captive, brows furrowed with misplaced concern.

Killer grip angel, and now a bleeding heart devil. Where the hell does Kiryu find these people?

The elevator dings open, and the pair of UberSheep employees take one step before stopping.

The elevator is occupied by a building janitor, standing behind a cleaning trolley. Short silver hair, cap pulled down close so her eyes aren’t visible, the first two buttons of her overalls opened. Suisei catches how she also nearly takes a step before stopping.

The janitor doesn’t exit. Instead, she steps to the left and wheels the trolley with her, politely making enough space in the elevator for them to board. Interesting.

Towa glances lightning quick at Suisei, nervous. Suisei nudges the cop and steps forward herself, a signal for Towa to follow. They board, turning to face the door as it slides shut. Suisei places herself closest to the janitor. Towa presses for the ground floor. The descent begins.

Suisei observes the janitor from the corner of her eyes, noting how she averts her eyes and the odd bumps in her pockets.

“Not getting off?” Suisei asks. Baits, really.

“Not my floor,” the janitor says, voice high and nasally.

“That was the top floor though.” Suisei glances Towa’s way. Her Glock remains securely strapped under her uniform, untouched since the job started.

“Missed my floor. No big deal.” The janitor shrugs. The floor buttons are in plain sight, in front of them. None of the other floors are lit up.

Suisei nods, smile growing. “Got lost, huh?”

“Y-yeah. Kinda new here.”

“How long?”

The janitor pauses first, fingers rapping rapidly against the trolley handles. “First week, actually.”

“Ah, real new.” Hidden under the cop’s coat, Suisei’s finger is primed on the trigger of her Nambu. Hope Towa is picking up the rotten vibe. “Heard this building only accepts the best of the best. How’s that been?”

“Um. Been great. Lotta work, but it’s exciting.” The janitor’s left hand leaves the handle and hovers near her pocket.

“Exciting, hm?” Suisei licks her lips. This foreplay charade has been fun. “So is that a knife in your pocket or are you just that down bad for janitorial work?”

Only five shots in the chamber. Make it count.

“Phooey…”

Suisei and the janitor lunges and collides in the middle. The janitor wields a combat knife – Orthrus model – in a reverse grip, and nearly cuts into Suisei’s eye then and there. Suisei almost pulls the trigger, but the janitor’s too close, forcing the Nambu to aim at the ceiling. They wrestle in the tight space, both struggling and failing to move their weapons into a prime killing position. Finger off the trigger, for now.

Split second late, Towa shoves the cop into a corner, tugs the trolley to cover the cop, elbows the open elevator button, and unstraps and pulls out her Glock.

The janitor sees. Her free hands moves, a second knife flies and strikes Towa’s gun arm. She drops the Glock with a cry. The janitor produces a third knife from somewhere, and slices upward. Suisei realizes too late the intent and the aim, and doesn’t pull back. Her fingers sear with pain, and her Nambu drops. The janitor kicks the Nambu at the Glock, and both guns pinball around too fast to keep track of.

The janitor’s a pro. She knows she has the advantage in this tight space, yet understands a bullet kills no matter the distance of the shot. Priority one: remove the guns.

Suisei back-steps. She keeps her backup Glock in her rear belt. If she can just-

The janitor thrusts downward. Suisei feints. Too slow. The knife tears into her thigh. The janitor follows with slamming her knee to the side of Suisei’s head. It jerks abruptly and hits the elevator wall, and she slides down prone. Stars, the tang of blood iron on her tongue, and the bitching sting of an Orthrus knife left lodged in her thigh.

Through doubled vision she sees Towa scrabbling around for a gun. Eyes away from an armed opponent. Careless, stupid nun. The janitor spins and kicks her head. She crumples into a wheezing heap. The janitor stands in the center, face shadowed by the dying neon of the elevator, but even in darkness the curl of a grin is unmistakable.

That should be the end of the song. Two more thrusts, two more dead criminals added to Hollow City’s mountain of corpses. But the janitor pivots. Turning away.

Then she kicks the trolley aside. The cop, bound and blind and prone, is out in the open.

Suisei realizes too late the aim and intent.

The janitor lifts her knife to the neon’s glare and brings it down like a snapping viper.

Into Towa’s palm.

Towa’s subdued grunt accompanies the janitor’s choked noise of shock. Evidently, she never expects Towa would trade the cop’s flesh for her own. Suisei can relate.

“Coco needs her breathing.”

Towa glares, the green of her eyes glowing brighter. Her fingers wrap around the janitor’s knuckles, as if the knife through her hand means nothing. The janitor pushes down with both hands. Towa only needs one to push up. Finally, proof that she’s a born devil.

The elevator dings. The door crawls open.

Towa catches the janitor’s shoulder with her free hand and pulls, and rams the janitor’s head with her own. She falls back, sprawled on the ground. Easy target.

Suisei sits up, reaches behind her, finally gets her backup Glock. Bitch needs extra holes in her.

Suisei fires five shots. The janitor twists, rolling and rolling, out of the elevator. She back-springs to her feet, then sprints to the side out of sight. Towa kicks the button to close. The aging door crawls shut. Towa collapses onto her back. Suisei exhales.

At least three of those shots should connect. She most likely wore a vest under the overalls. Orthrus knives don’t come cheap, too. Definitely a pro.

Towa pulls herself up and sits against the wall, then stares down at the knife piercing through her palm. She grips the handle and tears it out with a hiss, and lets it clatter to floor. Then she looks to Suisei with alarm. “What the hell was that?!”

“We’re in the red, that’s what.”

Suisei tries to stand but thinks better of it. She fingers the skin near the knife in her thigh, jaw tightening from how it stings, then applies pressure around the knife. Best to leave it there for now.

Suisei narrows her eyes at the cop. The gunshots spooked her, and now she’s screaming her throat hoarse under the tape. Thinking would be easier without all the noise.

She aims her Glock and fires near the cop’s legs. “Shut it!”

Towa glares at her, but she doesn’t give a shit. It did the trick.

Suisei presses down harder around the knife wound, recounting. The janitor was on the way up. She intended to exit the elevator until she saw Suisei’s group. She stayed on instead, when the group entered. She subdued her two assailants, stopped, then turned away.

No. Turned towards.

The janitor was targeting the cop.

“Call Watame. Move the van to the front of the building. Subtlety’s down the drain now,” Suisei says to Towa, as the devil wipes her bloodied palm with her uniform. “Then ring Kiryu. Things just got complicated.”

Towa stops cleaning to swiftly pull out her phone. Suisei closes her eyes. Her grip on her Glock loosens, then tightens. Inhale, then exhale. Inhale-

Her eyes snap open.

“Did you fart?”

“Wha- huh?” Towa pauses from opening her phone. “No?”

Suisei stares at the elevator door, then sniffs again. She is not imagining it. The lingering stench is pungent.

“That janitor stank!”

Uh oh, stinky!

Don’t take any of this too seriously, okay? Okay.

#hololive #hololive jp #hoshimachi suisei #kiryu coco #tokoyami towa #tsunomaki watame #oozora subaru #sakamata chloe #hololive fanfiction #Officer Subaru's Very Bad Day

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wil-is-done · 1 year

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The Hit-Idol - Chapter 2

Summary: Your shining star, your diamond in the rough, Hoshimachi Suisei, has a secret side-gig.

Word Count: 3.008

Hindsight’s a bitch, but it’s all so obvious to Suisei now. Those lines about how much she loved her music, how much it meant to her, how it helped her through dark times. All textbook examples of how to butter someone up, how to lower their guard so you can catch them in some freaky angel death grip. It’s embarrassing that she let herself fall for it, just because the speaker’s face ticks off all the right boxes this time.

The line about how her friend works nearby is as bull as the rest, turns out. They’ve been walking for fifteen minutes, hands still linked, weaving through packed streets and ducking into dark alleys, before Suisei realizes the angel is deliberately choosing a roundabout route. She’d like to crack a line about how trying to disorient her is useless, but she keeps her mouth zipped tight for now. The mood calls more for drilling holes into the angel’s back with her eyes. Though, the more she does, something glaring quickly jumps out at her.

Aren’t angels supposed to have wings?

“We’re here.”

Suisei stops when Kanata does, silently admiring how her innocent tone remains pitch perfect. They’re in the northeastern side of the city now, about six stations away from downtown. Not exactly prime real estate, but not quite the boonies either. Plain is the first word that comes to mind, looking at the building they stopped in front of, though discreet might be a better word for it. The exterior has been decorated with knickknacks you’d expect to see outside a bar, so stereotypical some might find it offensive. Its only real distinguishing feature is the neon sign above the door, spelling out two words.

Bar Coco.

Suisei narrows her eyes. The name rings a bell.

“After you.” Kanata gestures at the door, doing that adorable head tilt again.

“Not going to let go of my hand first?” Suisei tries.

“No,” sings Kanata. Suisei can see the little heart at the end of that word.

The sheer audacity of it earns Kanata a short giggle. Suisei feels a little better about herself after, blindly obeying Kanata’s orders again.

The interior has more character to it. Warm yellow lights complement the dark theming nicely, casting a delicate air of sophistication, marking it as a degree higher than your average drinking joint, sullied only slightly by the sting of fresh paint. There’s a small stage in one corner, currently occupied by a duet. A pretty young thing - dressed like the devil, voice of an angel - draped in purple and black, singing a soft tune to the strumming of a harp by her soft, horned blonde companion. A few seconds of listening is all it takes for Suisei to slot them as undiscovered talents, ready to be devoured, chewed, and spat back out by the industry. Maybe it’s best to leave them here.

But they’re only a sideshow. The main attraction stands behind the bar.

Meticulously cleaning a shot glass like it’s a normal thing for someone like her to do, is a towering vision of the sun, clad in a sharp black dress, though the dark does nothing to contain the fierce fire emanating from her. But what else do you expect from a dragon in disguise?

“Evening,” greets Kiryu fucking Coco. “Welcome to Bar Coco.”

Suisei would laugh. The fact that Kiryu Coco is the angel’s friend. The fact that she is in Kiryu Coco’s radar. The fact that Kiryu Coco is playing bartender and pretending to not recognize her. She would laugh at it all, if she’s not trying to keep her piss from soiling her dress.

“What’s wrong, miss? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Kiryu fucking Coco says to her, with a polite, concerned smile.

Suisei inhales, and quickly and quietly recollects her shit. She wants to meet The Comet, after all. “No, not a ghost. A dragon.” She licks her drying lips. Thank god most of her face is still hidden. “The dragon, from beyond the Border. The one who’s been burning clans left and right.”

The polite smile cracks, and out slithers a grin that’s all fangs.

“Good to know my reputation precedes me. Busted my ass building it up.” The bartender act drops, but the air of danger around her is as thick as ever. “Suppose we can skip the pleasantries then. Get straight to the part where we get baked and wasted.”

Suisei knows she should do something, but the angel with a killer grip is blocking the entrance, and every instinct in her body is screaming at her to not take a step closer to the dragon. Kiryu cocks her head, and either doesn’t notice her fear, or doesn’t care. One seems likelier than the other.

“You’re blocking foot traffic, standing there,” she says, so casually. As if they’ve been drinking buddies for years. “Come on in. Have a seat. Take off the mask, too. I don’t bite.”

It takes Kanata stepping beside her and gesturing to the bar for her to realize her hand is free. Suisei doesn’t like the term ‘cowed’, so she won’t use it to describe how she takes one heavy step after another deeper into the drinking hole, until she slides into one of the vacant seats. Kanata hops onto the seat next to her, letting her feet dangling a few inches off the floor. The duet in the corner continues to play in their own little world.

“What’s your poison?” Kiryu asks, reaching under the bar for something.

Suisei lowers her mask, letting it dangle around her neck. She’s tempted to say rubbing alcohol, so she can end things right here and now. “Sigma’s Sazerac. Extra absinthe,” she says instead. It won’t kill her, but it’ll come close.

Kiryu barks a chuckle. “All-out attack on round one. I like it. Coming right up.”

From under the bar, Kiryu pulls up what looks like a juice box - melon and honey - and slides it across the dark wood countertop to Kanata’s waiting grip. “You’ve met Kanata.”

The angel stabs the top with a straw and starts sipping, crossing her legs under the high chair, acknowledging Suisei with a single eyebrow wag. Suisei stares for a moment, then rubs her eyes. That drink can’t come soon enough.

“You’re buddies with an angel,” she states, too nervous to phrase it as a question.

“Sure am.” Kiryu grins, smug, for some reason.

Though, there might be one reason. “How’d you convince one to stoop to our level?”

“Stoop? Nah.” Kiryu’s eyes meet Kanata’s, and a wordless conversation Suisei isn’t privy to passes between them. “She’s just cool like that.”

Suisei flits between the dragon and the angel, curious enough to kill, but cautious to not overstep. It goes without saying, whatever they’ve got going on, however the beast and the divine is tangled with each other, it stretches way back. She can see it, plain as day. Prying might kill her - instead, she rests her eyes on Kiryu’s back as she pulls down bottles from the display behind the bar, takes out a shaker and a strainer and a pair of shot glass, and all in all making a good case that the bartending thing isn’t just an act.

Kiryu nods to the corner of the room. “Up on the stage there is Towa and Watame. They work for me.” She peeks over her shoulder, at Suisei, and out comes that fang-filled grin again. “If the night goes well, soon, they’ll work with you.”

Suisei blinks. So that’s what this is all about? A job interview?

She huffs, lips tightening. “Listen, Kiryu, with all due respect-”

“Kiryu?” Turning away from her cocktail for a moment, Kiryu burst out laughing. “So polite, Sui-chan! Just Coco is fine. It’s what it says outside, ain’t it?”

Next to her, she hears the tiniest snort. But Suisei’s still not going closer to that landmine. Even pretending to act chummy with Kiryu fucking Coco is out of line. “You’re still new. You might not get how the clans work yet.” Fingers crossed, Kiryu won’t find this patronizing and not obliterate her on the spot. “I’m under contract, and it ties me to Fuu-tan for twenty three more hits. If you want to commission me, you have to get in line.”

“Break it.”

Suisei freezes. Not a whisper leaves her lips, because she wants to take a moment to make sure if Kiryu really said what she said with a fucking smile on her face. “What?”

“The contract.” Kiryu scoops a pair of ice cubes into the shaker, and the echo rings as the ice hits the bottom. “Break her too, while you’re at it.”

Suisei can’t stop herself from glancing down, to see if there’s a red dot trained somewhere on her person.

She’s in the clear, looks like. Which is worse, somehow. Means this is a very real offer. For a very real betrayal.

And Suisei is intimately aware of the very real consequences. “You know, that’s funny. I just wrapped up a hit on someone who tried to do this exact same thing.”

“Alright. So?” Kiryu tilts her head. She looks… disappointed? “You too pussy to quit now?”

“Quitting isn’t what you’re asking for.” Suisei leans into the counter, standing her ground. Maybe being forceful isn’t the best idea, but dammit, she’s got principles. “What you’re asking for is for me to waltz up to Fuu-tan and say to her face, I’m going to breach my contract and your skull.”

“Don’t have to be to her face.” Kiryu shrugs, turning back to her cocktail, as if that’s worth more of her attention than Suisei now. “The right knife in the right back goes a long way.”

Suisei narrows her eyes at the small of Kiryu’s back, hunching, until Kanata clears her throat, in that nonchalant way that’s meant to be noticed. Suisei loosens her shoulders, straightens back, keeps her face neutral. Can’t have anyone here perceive her as hostile.

“So you’re targeting Fuu-tan next.” Suisei leaves the unsaid out in the open. Carefully, she shifts for the offensive. “Most folk would have left that part out until after they’re sure their would-be collaborator is onboard. What’s stopping the collaborator from ratting them out? Ruin the whole plan before it starts rolling?”

The corner duet finishes their song, and there’s a lull as they prepare for their next.

“She can.” Kiryu slides a knife out from its holder. The steel rings in the silence. “But she won’t.”

Suisei tries to not gulp. She fails. “Why’s that?”

Kiryu brings the knife down on a lemon once, twice - Suisei swears up and down she didn’t flinch - then squeezes the lemon slice into the shaker. She cranes her head, calling out to the corner.

“Oi, Towa, Watame. Take five.”

Purple hair’s already breathing in for her next tune, but she complies by Kiryu’s words instantly. Turning off the mic, setting down the harp, they step off the stage and start walking in the direction of the bar. In the direction of Suisei. To her side, the killer grip angel sips the last drop of her juice box.

Shit. She’s not leaving this place without a fight.

Kanata sets down the juice box on the countertop, makes a show of stretching her neck and shoulders. The duet approaches; she can feel them growing closer, hear their padded footsteps, see their distorted reflections on rows of booze bottles. Suisei tenses, body and mind coiled to go like a loaded spring, a lifetime of practice and victories flowing through her form. The duet is upon her, right behind her, and they-

Pass by her. Continuing on like she’s a ghost to them, to a door beside the bar that leads into a backroom. Only pausing briefly to place a metal briefcase by her feet.

Suisei glances down, nudging the briefcase with the heel of her shoe. It’s heavy, packed, but crucially, silent.

Kiryu picks up the shaker with a playful twirl. “There’s more where that came from,” she notes, a cheeky smirk on her lips.

Suisei huffs a steadying breath. Her loyalty is worth more than one briefcase. “You think I didn’t have a down payment with Fuu-tan?”

“I know, I know. That’s just to keep your ass seated for this next part.” Passing the shaker smoothly back and forth from one hand to another, Kiryu closes the distance with Suisei, real close, close enough that Suisei has to lean back, lest she gets burned.

“See, Sui-chan, most folk would have been satisfied with setting sittin’ pretty on top of all the clans with a collection of clan heads’ heads on display as their endgame goal. Thing is, I ain’t what you’d call most folk. I need more. And there ain’t much more than you can get than all.” Kiryu tosses the shaker into the air, and catches it as it falls without sparing a glance. She does a little head tilt in lieu of a bow. “As a wise woman once said, world is mine.”

“To do that, first I need to get my grubby little hands on a bit of everything.” Kiryu pulls back as abrupt as she came, spinning back to her cocktail, and the shaker flips open with an audible pop. “Fast food industry. Real estate. Security, surveillance, and technology. Entertainment. Music.”

The dots are lining up in Suisei’s head, and for the first time since she entered this bar, she does want to keep her ass seated.

“Now, we all know The Comet is Fuu-tan’s golden goose, but what about Sui-chan? What does she think of her?” Kiryu’s sudden question is unexpected, and leaves Suisei’s throat dry, out of words.

“Don’t have to answer that yourself. Anyone can see from how she treats ‘em.” Kiryu shakes her head, disappointed. Whether it’s genuine or fake, Suisei can’t tell. “For The Comet, it’s always the best gear, always easy transport, always a convenient cover. But for Sui-chan? Signing a venue, promoting the live, producing the merch - all that comes from your own pocket, didn’t it?”

Sirens blare in her head, with the words ‘HOW DID SHE KNOW’ in big, bold, red text scrolling through an overhead display. But sirens have been blaring ever since she shook an angel’s hand, and she’s growing deaf to them. “She’s not a fan. She thinks it’s a risk. A liability.”

“Can’t say I don’t see her point. Having the face of her best hitman plastered all over the city won’t help her any, especially when she’s rising up the charts. Fuu-tan would rather have you be a nobody. Just another face in the crowd. No, less than that. She wants you to be a ghost.”

Suisei bites down the insides of her cheeks, until her tongue tastes the faint tang of blood. It’s intentional, she knows that. She’s dancing right to Kiryu’s tune. Doesn’t stop her from wanting to strangle someone.

“But that’s because she only sees you as a killer.” Kiryu strains the shaker’s contents into a pair of shot glasses, slowly, just like how she’s stretching each syllable of each word. “If I were her, I wouldn’t have wasted you like that.”

Suisei had closed her eyes to calm her nerves, push down impulses best released elsewhere, and when she opens them again, Kiryu had turned to face her, a glass of Sigma’s Sazerac in each hand, with a grin that’s more dragon than human.

“If I were her, I would have let you thrive. Let you have the best of both worlds. Let you be so much more than a ghost.”

Kiryu advances, erases the distance, forcing Suisei to look up to meet her eyes. Forcing Suisei to stare at the sun and not flinch.

“I want both The Comet and Sui-chan. I want your killer instincts and your killer pipes.”

Kiryu places one glass on the countertop, in Suisei’s line of sight, then steps back with a flourish.

“Join me, Suisei, and I’ll place you on the biggest stage in Hollow City.”

Suisei’s gaze follows the glass as it lands, and stays rooted there as the world melts into the background. Hell of a choice to end one hell of a night.

Ambition and insanity are twins separated at birth, and taking on every single clan by herself is already enough to qualify her for the mental ward. But that won’t cut it, she says. The dragon wants to turn the world and everything in it into her personal hoard. It’s the kind of plan you’d expect some diabolical villain to monologue on Sunday mornings to wide-eyed children. It’s insane. Clinically, terminally insane. But really, is it any more insane than a killer-for-hire who wants to shoot through the night sky as a brilliant, singing star?

But to entertain a hypothetical scenario where she wants to keep her options open, she asks, “And if I say no?”

“Then the door’s that-a-way. I won’t lay a finger on you.” Kiryu shrugs, suddenly acting way too fucking casual after relaying her grand master plan, tilting her head at the door.

“You won’t, hmm?” Suisei, without any subtlety, shoots a glance at Kanata, who keeps that innocent mask prim and proper on her face. A dragon can sit on its ass and breathe and turn her into charcoal without raising a finger, and ten bucks says the duet ‘taking five’ are guarding the back entrance.

Suisei returns her gaze to what’s been laid out in front of her. A glass of chilled Sigma’s Sazerac, a one-way ticket to be a minion in one dragon’s conquest for world domination, and a real shot at having her voice be heard the world over and touch the hearts of anyone who cares to listen.

Suisei wraps one carefully manicured finger after another around the glass, and lifts, and seals her fate.

Kiryu Coco’s draconic grin returns, and she raises her own glass. “A toast,” she declares, to Suisei, to her crew, to an unassuming world, “to the beginning of something terrible.”

Yakuza idol crime gang adventures have only just begun.

#hololive #hololive jp #hoshimachi suisei #kiryu coco #amane kanata #tokoyami towa #tsunomaki watame #hololive fanfiction

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