Izumi890

7. Right on her back

“A hundred and eighty sit-ups…?” Izumi stared at him. “Are you trying to kill us?”

Isshiki smiled calmly. “Nope. But the mage might try to.”

Kaori was already on a red mat, hands behind her head, legs lifted.

“Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…”

Kizuki’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Izumi, is your sister even human?”

“She’s been with Isshiki for a year,” Izumi muttered. “I doubt it.”

“Come on,” Isshiki said lightly. “Nobody goes home until they clock one-eighty.”

“Forty-five, forty-six, forty-eight…”

Izumi scowled, then threw herself onto a blue mat. Kizuki flopped onto a pink one beside her, groaning dramatically.

“I’ll even count for you,” Isshiki said, kneeling beside Izumi with an infuriating smirk. “Show me you deserve the title, Izumi.”

He leaned in slightly.

“One…”

***

By 11 p.m., Izumi arrived at her mother’s house barely able to stand upright.

When she pushed open the kitchen door, her mother sat at the table with a cup of coffee, as if she’d been waiting.

“Tell me everything.”

Izumi dropped her bag and just stood there, exhausted.

“Oh gosh,” her mom said, standing immediately. “Izumi, are you okay?”

“Mom, don’t worry about me,” Izumi sighed. “Isshiki is just a psychotic, s******c. People like him should be illegal.”

Her mother hummed thoughtfully. “Don’t worry. Next time he comes around, I’ll tell him to be gentle.”

Izumi didn’t even have the energy to cringe.

“I’ll crash in the living room,” she muttered. “I don’t think I can make it upstairs… or sit again.”

***

The next morning at work.

Izumi walked in and immediately froze.

Haru Takeda stood near her desk, badge clipped neatly to his jacket.

“Ms. Kageno,” he said. “We need to talk.”

She inhaled slowly, then smiled with perfect professionalism.

“Of course,” she said pleasantly.

“Please, take a seat.”

“I’m sure you’re aware that Mr. Hayato is missing without a trace,” Haru Takeda said, watching her closely. “One of the janitors claimed the last person he saw with him was you.”

I should have disposed of the auxiliary staff too, Izumi thought calmly.

She smiled anyway.

“Apparently, all footage from that day was erased,” Haru continued.

“Is that so?” Her voice dropped, it was quiet, smooth and dangerous like a switch had been flipped. Izumi890 online.

“If it’s alright with you,” he said carefully, “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Why not?” Izumi replied warmly. “Mr. Hayato was a very good man. I’ll do anything to help you find leads.”

Her tone shifted back into flawless corporate polish.

“Thank you,” Haru said.

Tonight is your last, she thought.

He slid a card across the desk.

“Come to the station when you’re ready.”

He left.

Izumi picked up the card, then opened her laptop.

“What an idiot.”

She scrolled through the news.

Monsters had begun appearing worldwide. Surveillance footage showed a corrosive, slime-spitting creature rampaging through Kyoto.

The U.S. military had destroyed three monsters and captured one for research.

Several African nations reported mass displacement as refugees fled repeated monster attacks.

Kyoto had been saved by a superhuman dressed in a black-and-blue maid outfit.

The CIA and FBI were actively searching for this individual, offering a one-billion-dollar reward for information on the so-called Blue Maiden.

Izumi inhaled sharply and choked.

That’s what they’re calling me… ridiculous.

She paused.

…I actually don’t have a better name. That’s why my code name is Izumi890. The last three digits of my phone number.

A familiar presence filled the room.

“Hey.”

She didn’t look up. “What? I’m working.”

“I saw you with that detective.”

“Dig him a grave next to Hayato.”

Isshiki blinked. “That’s blunt.”

“We need to talk about the outfits,” Izumi snapped. “What were you thinking? Maid outfits, seriously?”

“They’re cute,” Isshiki said defensively. “And maids are efficient.”

“Who designed them?”

“I did. I’ve always wanted to be a designer—”

“That’s enough. Redesign it.”

Isshiki sighed and pulled up a chair, grabbing paper and pen from her desk.

“Tight or loose?”

“Mimic the outfit I use for my other job.”

“Okay. I’ll ask the others too.”

“One more thing,” Izumi added. “Stop showing up here. People will notice you don’t work here.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Go away.”

***

That night, Izumi’s apartment was cloaked in dim light.

She stepped into her high-heeled boots, dressed in a tight black outfit that hugged her like a second skin.

Phone plugged in. Balcony door open.

She climbed onto the railing, preparing to leap to the next building,

Strong hands yanked her back.

“Wait.”

“What.”

“The idea of you killing people doesn’t sit well with me.”

“That man is right on my back.”

“He suspects you’re Izumi890,” Isshiki said calmly. “And right now, there are police waiting at his house.”

“How?”

“I’m an intern at the Kyoto Police Department,” he admitted. “I’ve been working closely with Detective Haru Takeda.

Izumi stared at him.

“How long have they been investigating me?”

“I’m not sure,” Isshiki admitted. “I became an intern after Hayato went missing. But it seems they’ve had their eyes on you for a while.”

“I see.”

Izumi stared at him blankly, her expression unreadable.

“I know you come from an organization where, in situations like this, killing is the solution,”

Isshiki continued carefully.

“Alright then,” Izumi said flatly. “Tomorrow, I’ll go in for questioning.”

Isshiki nodded once. “Good. Now let’s get back to training.”

“No,” Izumi replied instantly. “I’m resting today.”

“Whether you like it or not.”

“Make me.”

A portal shimmered open beneath her feet. Izumi stepped aside just in time, unfazed.

“I knew you’d do that.”

Isshiki smirked. “That’s not the only trick beneath my sleeve.”

The shadows behind her shifted. Another Isshiki emerged and grabbed her arms, holding her firmly in place.

“You should know,” he said calmly, almost amused, “you being the world’s greatest assassin is mere child’s play to me.”

His grin widened as a portal yawned open and swallowed them whole.

***

Deltania.

Izumi tore herself free the moment they landed and stalked away, fury radiating off her.

Like hell I’ll train.

She stormed across the grounds and wandered into the courtyard.

Under a wide, leafy tree, Kaori sat on a bench, carefully braiding Kizuki’s hair.

Kizuki was already dressed in her outfit: a tight, sleeveless pink crop top cut dangerously low at the chest, a very short pink skirt with an unnecessary slit, pink-and-black thigh-highs, and black stilettos. She looked less like a heroine and more like she was headed for a nightclub stage.

“Your hair is so soft and long,” Kaori said happily.

Kaori herself wore an oversized gray hoodie—definitely Isshiki’s—with nothing underneath, her bare thighs completely exposed.

Kizuki smiled. “Thanks. I usually use aloe vera.”

“I think I’ll try that,” Kaori said thoughtfully. “My hair hasn’t been doing so well.”

Her brown hair was thick and shoulder-length, a little unruly.

“I could help you with it sometime,” Kizuki offered.

Izumi slowed, perplexed. She had never seen Kizuki this gentle, this nice. Toward her, Kizuki was usually nothing but sharp edges.

Kizuki turned and smiled when she noticed her. “Hey.”

“Sup.”

“Come sit with us,” Kaori said brightly. “Let’s braid your hair.”

Izumi stopped cold.

The thought of anyone touching her head sent a shiver down her spine. Her scalp was painfully sensitive, always had been.

“I’m fine.”

“Since high school you’ve always worn that loose ponytail,” Kizuki said casually. “It was cute at first. Now it’s just old.”

Izumi gasped, as if stabbed straight through the chest.

“My hair is just fine.”

“I’ve always wanted to ask,” Kizuki went on, turning to Kaori. “Did Izumi dye her hair? She looks… unusual.”

“No,” Kaori said cheerfully. “She’s always looked like this. Even her eyebrows match her hair color.”

“Cool,” Kizuki said. Then she clapped her hands once. “Now sit your butt down. We’re fixing it.”

“Yay!” Kaori chimed.

Before Izumi could protest, she was pushed onto the bench.

Kizuki pulled a comb from her bag and immediately started dragging it through Izumi’s hair.

“Don’t worry, sis,” Kaori said sweetly. “Pain is beauty.”

“I’d rather be ugly,” Izumi muttered.

Her cheeks were already wet with tears.

“Oh,” Kaori suddenly remembered. “Kizuki, you have to be gentle. Izumi has a super delicate head.”

Kizuki glanced at Izumi with a playful grin. “Really?”

She did not get gentle.

By the time they were done, Izumi’s eyes were red and puffy, her nose slightly pink.

“I, I just want to know,” Izumi whispered, voice trembling, “what have I ever done to you, Kizuki?”

“You look more adorable now,” Kaori said proudly, handing her a mirror.

Izumi stared at her reflection. “You just tightened the ponytail… all that pain for a ponytail.”

“It makes your studs stand out,”

Kizuki said. “You look an ounce prettier.”

Isshiki walked into the courtyard, arms crossed.

“Hey,” he said. “Aren’t you supposed to be training?”

Kizuki and Izumi groaned in unison.

“Oh yes!” Kaori said enthusiastically.

“Wait,” Kizuki said suddenly, snapping her fingers. “Izumi, I meant to show you how to make rain clouds.”

A dark cloud instantly formed above Isshiki’s head.

“Come on!” Kizuki laughed. “Run for your lives!”

Kaori grabbed Izumi’s hand, and the two took off just as rain poured down.

Isshiki stood there, soaked.

“…So that’s how you want to play it.”

He wiped water from his face and watched them disappear, a slow, dangerous smile forming.