THE WAGES OF SIN IS DEATH

“Look like I dialed to wine and dine ya?” Exchange life goals? Maybe get all cozy?

Pfft. Well, he’s a new face. Not particularly a fresh face, no – the Mad Dog of Shimano the gossip deems him; a poster boy among the yakuza, more ‘John Dillinger posters’ than popstar advert  – but, still: their first meeting, huh? Pointedly, he turns from the body on the pavement. Displeasure twists his features; his scowl speaks unease.

And picked to bone as they are, skin mottled and ruptured like a too ripe apple… Disloyalty killed this yakuza, and in this site, ‘the hole’, who can blame him?

Mutely, Majima crosses to where she bravely stands. “Talkin’ spotless,” he says, because that’s how clean it’s got to be: how can a man die here if he’d never come at all? He stares expectantly. “See anyone but us hangin’ here?” he tests.

            there’s something curious about his behavior.  something she can’t put her finger on ---- just under the surface.   under the thick,   hannya mask he wore.   THE MAD DOG.    she’s been around death  && it’s company enough to know when others shared that fate with her.   a look into his features told her that this was not something he was comfortable with ---  much less used to.      its not long before she realizes that she may have more blood on her hands than even a family man like him. 

            hanako avoids his gaze.    mostly out of habit,  but partially as a sign of respect.   she keeps her head low, mulling over her words carefully. 

         ❛    i haven’t seen anyone.   it’s just us,   isn’t it ?   ❜     her voice is soft.  almost reassuring in a way.  she slides past him to get to work on her task,   studying the decaying features.   there was only so much in her kit that could be useful for restoration in this case ---  usually,   the bodies are more fresh. 

          HESITATION   FORGED   ITSELF   A   HOME   IN   HIS   LUNGS   .   he’d   seen   types   of   the   …   unsavory   kind   duck   into   what   he   now   understood   to   be   a   temporary   resting   place   for   the   DEAD.   now   that   he   was   inside,   his   mind   was   blank   —-   etched   with   silence   and   unhelpful   in   coming   up   with   an   excuse.  ❛    i’m   no   hero   yet   —-   ❜   no,   but   one   day   ;   that   destiny   had   been   stitched   into   the   fabric  of   his   skin   from   the   moment   he   was   born.   he   remembered   what   midoriya   told   him   once   (   smile   more   —   it’ll   put   people   at   ease   ),   but   it   felt   unnatural   even   as   he   attempted   it. 

         ❛   looking   for   my   friend,   actually.   the   address   he   gave   me   to   meet   him   must   have   been   incorrect.  I   apologize   for   bothering   you.  ❜

                              ❛    my apologies ----     ❜  

                  ah.    looking for someone,  then.    && if that person was of the living,   they were unlikely to find themselves in her shop.    hanako smiled,   watching the child with a curious gaze.    while she was weary of all those resembling heroes,   she can’t help but relax a bit.    just a child.   && while she knew better than to underestimate a student of UA,   she had no reason to be guarded.    after all,     this was all in a days work. 

     hands fall from her task,   moving to cover what she was working on.    a child so young should not have to face death so casually.  .  .   not like she had. 

                    a thin black case is held at her side,     following the all too familiar motions of expressing condolences.   sentiments that probably were not received by genuine hearts ----    but they were offered regardless.   maybe it was foolish,   but it kept her to her routine.               there’s always a right way,   hanako.       bow before entering.        && the voice of her father reminds her as it so often does to stick to the formalities.   her gaze falls to the floor,  lowering herself politely,   before turning towards the patriarch. 

          ❛    please excuse me.  did you call me for an encoffinment ?                         or should i not bother with the formalities ?    ❜  

          THERE WAS VERY LITTLE SHE WOULDN’T DO.      so few questions she asked,  if any at all -----     she’d never been a woman of sensitive disposition.    && long fingers traced the features of the deceased,    slow && calm.   as if she was bidding farewell.   

            ❛    i have other clients,  you know .  .  .                               you should ask before bringing me more work.    ❜  

   && there is a pause.   long.   deliberate.   their eyes meet over the corpse between them.                         ❛   help me get it into a casket.   ❜  

                                ❛     —–  YOUNG HERO.    ❜  

       a hand cold as ice clutch the mala wrapped loose around her wrist.   something to ground her.   gaze studies his uniform.     calculated.     cautious.    && finally ----  death lowers her head,   ever graceful. . .  ever kind. 

           ❛     you seem to be looking for something.   ❜