Y/N is an Assassin!?! Pt. 18
Y/N is an Assassin!?! Pt. 18 haikyuu stories
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ushiwaka
ushiwaka Pan-romantic Demisexual She/Her
Autoplay OFF   •   9 months ago
You know what? School should not exist. It only hurts, it does not help.

Y/N is an Assassin!?! Pt. 18

"So what do you guys want to know?" I ask the gym. Goshiki from Shiratorizawa begins. "Well, for starters, why were some of our teammates taken last night?"

Satori answers his Kohei. "We believe that they were planning on torturing them for info on us. Then they would've either tried to trade them for us or killed them."

Everyone, even the adults, turn silent. Daichi speaks next.

"Why was your face covered in blood when you got back this morning? I mean, yeah, you killed people, but how did you blood all over your face?"

I look it dead in the eye. "I bit his carotid artery, and he bled out into my mouth. I have a thing for blood, so I took the opportunity." His face goes pale, and he looks like he's gonna be sick.

A first year boy from Saijoh asks the next question. "So how did you guys get all wrapped up in the Yakuza?"

Iwaizumi answers, "Some of us, specifically, those of us with 10+ years of service, were born into it. Others of us had family or friends hurt or killed, so they sought after revenge."

Kuroo adds to it. "The Yakuza Youth all met each other through the Tokyo Yakuza. We've been through hell and back together, and we've developed a closer bond than any of the other teams."

"So your basically a family, then?" Kita, from Inarizaki, clarifies. "You betcha! A close-knit, psychotic, murderous family!" Atsumu confirms with a bright smile.

"So...what do guys specialize in?" Noya asks. "I mean, your personalities are way-crazy different! Does that affect the killings themselves?"

We each take turns explaining our own techniques, with me going first.

"Well, when I go after single targets, I like to make the kill quick and clean, with as little noise as possible. If their are multiple targets, such as a gang team, I go all out. Guns a-blazin!"

Kenma goes next. "I mostly work tech support, hacking surveillance and satellites to get an accurate reading on situations from afar."

"And Kozume and I are basically a team within a team. I'm in the field, taking targets out as fun as possible, and he's my guy in the chair!"

Kuroo threw his arm around Kenma, and Kenma just looked down at his food and mutters, "You don't need to be so loud about it, Tetsurou."

Kuroo just laughs and pats Kenma's head. "Don't be so quiet about it, then! You know, I'm only being extra loud because your being extra quiet!"

"You guys! It's my turn!" Iwaizumi cries out. "I tend to be particularly methodical when it comes to my jobs. I use poisoned knives most of the time."

"AND I," Terushima jumps up, "like to have fun with it! I do whatever I can to make their deaths as slow and painful as possible! Make 'em fight for it, ya know?"

"Then theirs us!" Atsumu and Osamu jump up. "We work together on our jobs!" "I prefer using artillery, though" "whereas I like the personal touch the knives give me!"

Akaashi adds his own. "I like using blunt objects. Tie 'em up and hang 'em from the ceiling, then go after it like a pinata. I gotta have fun with it!"

Tanaka laughs and asks, "What about you, Tendou?"

Tendou smiles creepily and holds up his hands. "Well, if I used weapons, I'd become to dependent on them. They make the job easier, but also less fun. I do everything by hand, and I mean everything!"

The boys look at us; some in fear, others in fascination. I raise my glass. "One more thing: we all have a thing for blood! We don't drink it too often, but we take it when we can!"

"This all explains your stamina and pain tolerance..." Suga mutters quietly. "And your general adaptability... Say, does that scar on your neck have anything to do with this?"

The Yakuza Youth boys look at me as a I run my hand over the long, bulky scar covering the underside of my chin. "Well... not exactly. I was nine-years-old. It was my first mission..."

I open my eyes and feel a heavy cloth covering my eyes. My wrists and ankles are tied to a chair, and my mouth is gagged. I bend my head down and drag the blindfold off with my shoulder.

The room I'm in is dark, with only small cracks in the walls to let in light. My eyes quickly adjust, and I analyze my surroundings.

The chair I'm tied to is in the very center of the room, the legs bolted to the floor. 'Great,' I think, 'Just, great.'

Whoever tied me up did a pretty sad job of it. My wrists are bound in duct tape, so I forcefully whip my arms up and tear right through it.

Rubbing my wrist, I look down and see that my legs are tied with rope, so I quickly untie myself.

'So,' I concur, 'whoever took me is either stupid, unorganized, or testing me.' I hear an alarm go off, and a group of men all dressed in black storm into the room.

"Freeze!" one shouts. I jump up and grab a ceiling beam, swinging myself over it so I can rest on top of it. I hear gunshots go of, and I press my body against the concrete beam.

When the gunfire finally comes to a stop, I peer over the edge and count the assailants. 15; pyramid formation.

Taking a deep breath, I jump on top of the center guy and snap his neck. I pick up the machine gun and spread bullets through the entire room.

They all fall, blood pouring out of them. I grab a fresh gun and start scaling the wall. I find a window and look out of it.

I'm about 10 stories up, so probably a 30 meter fall. I begin searching for a route down when I hear a door slam nearby.

Turning, I see a man in all...white? That's new... I don't have anytime to ponder, however, before he throws a live grenade in my direction.

I launch my body out through the window. I direct myself towards a tree and squeeze my eyes shut as the branches slash against my skin. I slow down and get caught between two thick branches.

I hear the grenade go off eight or so stories up and breath out a sigh of relief after that near-death experience. I wriggle my arms and dislodge them from the natural prison the tree made.

Before jumping out of the tree, I take one last look from the high vantage point to figure out where I am. I spot the bright light of Tokyo Square about a mile away, so I set off for it.

Keeping hidden and quiet, I hurry to the city center and look for my parent's agency. I make my way to the entrance when a large hand falls on my shoulder.

"Hey, kid?" A low voice asks. "Are you okay?" I remain still and expressionless. "Y-yeah. I'm f-fine." 'Shit, I really just stuttered? What is wrong with me today?'

Despite my physical protests, the hand turns me around and I come face to face with an officer. He bends down to meet my level.

"Look, kid: I'm gonna need to take you to the station, okay? We'll get you some help, and-" I pull away from me and run off through the alley.

Before the officer can react, I'm making my way through a back entrance to the studio. "Mother!" I call out. "Father! Hajime! Satori! Kozume! Tetsurou! Anyone! HELP!"

I manage to find my way to the back living quarters of the studio. I crumble onto the sofa as the adrenaline wears off and the pains sets in.

Mother and Father are the first to find me. Blood drips from my face and arms as Father picks me up. "Wildfire, what happened?" He holds my face in his hands and sees the cut on my chin.

"I-I...I don't...don't...k-know.!" I'm sobbing at this point and cling to my father's shirt. "Darling, go get a medic," Father order my mother and she runs off quickly.

Father sets me down on the coffee table. "Wildfire, Y/N, please..." He runs his hand through my hair. "I need you to breathe, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Father..." I call out between sobs, "I-I'm sorry! I failed the mission! I got caught! I-" "NO!" His sudden scream scares me. "Never EVER blame yourself for stuff like this."

Mother returns with a medic following right behind her. Father steps back and the medic kneels in front of me. She begins cleaning my neck as my Mother watches in horror.

The medic, Ms. Davison, finally finishes fixing my injuries. She explains that the wound on my neck would not be life-threatening as long as I keep it clean.

I return to the room I share with the others of the Yakuza. Kenma, the only one still up, quickly notices the bandages and my tear-stained face.

"Y/N?" I look up as he calls my name. "Kozume-" "Come here." He sets down his game and gestures for me to lie down on his bunk.

I plop down on his bunk, and he wraps his arms around my body. "Kozume?" "Sleep, Y/N. You need it." I hum quietly and drift off to sleep.

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