A few hours prior • Kasai's POV
Kasai's boots echoed through the damp, grimy tunnel of the underground hideout, each step heavy with disdain.
A dense haze of smoke curled around him, acrid tendrils wafting from the joints lazily being hit by his boss's lackeys.
"Tch... the stench of this place disgusts me," he muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth in annoyance with his eyes squeezed shut, as if to block out the sight of the offensive atmosphere.
The dampness of the air clung to his skin, and the musty odor of sweat and stale smoke violated his senses. He couldn't fathom how his coworkers could tolerate such bullshit; but it was a perfect breeding ground to direct his contempt.
Sure, he carried a general hatred for humanity, a bitter resentment that flowed through his veins, but a particularly bold disdain was reserved for his coworkers, their careless disregard for cleanliness a direct slash at any chances of friendliness that he could've had in him.
One might wonder why he put himself in such a wretched place if it revolted him so much.
The answer was painfully simple: he literally had no choice.
Orphaned at a young age when his parents were lost in an accident, Kasai had known nothing but hardship.
While other children were raised with the warmth of loving homes and the comforts of a normal school life, he roamed the streets, invisible and unwanted. The world had turned its back on him, seeing only the scar that marred his face.
It was a small blemish in the grand scheme of things, yet it became a beacon for judgment, which was extremely ridiculous, in his view.
Society had rendered him unsightly, casting him aside as a pariah while he scraped by in solitude, a ghost in a world that refused to see him.
One day, as someone finally approached him, it felt as though a thick fog had finally lifted, allowing the world to see him for the first time.
He was no longer a mere ghost haunting the fringes of society; he was.. wanted.
The hopeful little boy—a fleeting wisp of his once-bright self—reached out and grasped the outstretched hand of the man kneeling before him who would soon be known as Masahiro, blissfully unaware of the malevolence behind his savior's smile.
At first, everything seemed like a dream come true. Masahiro whisked him away to fancy hotels where golden chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the air was rich with the scent of elegant perfume and cologne.
Kasai was showered with heaps of toys and lavish gifts, each one more extravagant than the last. He reveled in bubble baths filled with fragrant bubbles, while Masahiro treated him with a warmth that felt almost paternal.
Yet, beneath the surface of this gilded lifestyle, a gnawing feeling of unease crept into Kasai's mind.
The man, despite his kindness, often left Kasai alone for what felt like an eternity, wandering through the interior of the hotel, only for Masahiro to return with new faces—women draped in glittering gowns and heavy jewels.
Kasai, too young to grasp the intricacies of the underworld activities, always felt a vague confusion at these encounters. Even as he accepted the gifts with enthusiasm, an instinctual wariness tugged at his heart, whispering that something was very wrong.
As time passed, the once-familiar hotels transformed into strange, labyrinthine places. They bore the unmistakable hallmarks of wealth and extravagance, yet each visit drained him of his former sense of security.
Around every corner, secrets loomed like shadows. Little did he know, the fragile trust he had placed in Masahiro was teetering on the brink of collapse, a precarious thread that was soon to snap, plunging him into a reality he could never have imagined.
At the time, Kasai knew nothing about trafficking.
He had initially believed that Masahiro was extending a genuine gesture of kindness toward him.
However, as he found himself increasingly compelled to repay this supposed generosity with being in dangerous places no young boy should have to be in exchange for safety and material gifts, the illusion began to shatter. He soon recognized that he was ensnared in a sinister environment, one filled with manipulation and danger—an unsettling place he never should have dared to enter.
With time, the boy had become increasingly rebellious, a spirit unwilling to be caged by the oppressive atmosphere he had once been deceived into viewing as kindness. The shadiness of his surroundings seemed to flip a light switch in his brain, prompting him to reject any further encounters with the elegantly dressed women.
In moments of defiance, he would often hurl their ornate wine glasses at them, the crystal shattering like his illusions, sending vibrant red wine cascading over their delicate gowns, leaving dark, conspicuous stains that mirrored the turmoil inside him.
To Masahiro, this situation was simply unacceptable.
He watched helplessly as clients slipped away one by one like sand through the cracks between his fingers, their interest in purchasing Kasai dwindling to almost nothing. The once-flourishing demand for Kasai had diminished, due to his aggressive outbursts.
In a decisive move, frustrated and desperate to salvage his business, Masahiro made the difficult decision to reassign him to the assassination department.
Yet, to his disbelief, Kasai excelled at all of his training, evolving into a talented assassin.
Each obstacle that lay before Kasai was met with an intensity and determination that Masahiro hadn't anticipated.
With every lesson learned and every skill honed, Kasai transformed, emerging as a formidable young man, capable of navigating the dark underbelly of the underground business with his intelligence and skill.
Despite this, the trauma from his time being trafficked drained the bright spark that once burned within him, paving way to a young man that would hate all of humanity as a whole. A man who refused to cry in front of others or show weakness ever again.
Bringing himself back to the present moment, Kasai rolled his eyes in exasperation, bracing himself for the all-too-familiar, grating sound of Masahiro's voice echoing in his ears. A small mosquito buzzed irritably by, its wings vibrating in a frantic rhythm.
In response, Kasai flicked his wrist, unleashing a crackling ball of flame from his palm that illuminated the surrounding shadows.
With a self-satisfied grin, he watched as the insect's buzzing abruptly ceased, its body reduced to nothing more than ash.
"Not today, you bloodsucking little bastard," Kasai chuckled, reveling in his small victory.
Just as the sound of his laughter had begun to fade, he was abruptly cut off by the unwelcome ring of his boss's voice, slithering into his consciousness like a snake in the grass.
"Mr. Shiromaru! It seems you've finally arrived," Masahiro remarked, his voice a smooth purr laced with sarcasm.
He stepped out from the shadows, the dim light casting an intimidating silhouette against the wall. His cold grin revealed the confidence he always exuded, but it was the glint in his eye that held a darker edge—one that made even the most hardened men feel a shiver of apprehension.
"A little off the clock, but I suppose you've always had that little habit of running late."
Kasai clenched his jaw as his gaze drifted to the cigarette dangling lazily from Masahiro's lips, wisps of smoke curling into the cool air.
The familiar scent mixed with the mustiness of the room was just a reminder of late-night drug deals and bloody fist-fights.
Weapons too, of course.
Letting out a soft sigh, Kasai rubbed the back of his neck, fatigue weighing heavily on him.
"What did you call me in for this time, old man?" he questioned, his tone edging on annoyance. "I could've gotten more sleep if it hadn't been for you." His words were laced with frustration, though deep down, he knew this was just part of the game they played—one that often forced him into the role of the reluctant player.
Masahiro's parched lips curled into a sinister smirk as he flicked his cigarette onto the pavement, the ember glowing briefly before he viciously stamped it out, grinding it into the ground with a deliberate cruelty.
He could almost hear the sharp intake of breath from Kasai, the abrasive sound of crushed tobacco grating on his subordinate's ears like nails on a chalkboard.
Masahiro knew that the sound hurt Kasai's ears, yet still did it anyway
Kasai despised his boss.
"The son of the reigning family, and the heir to the ruler's leadership. Make the boy trust you, that's your job."
Kasai arched a brow as he folded his arms over his chest, suddenly intrigued.
This was one unusual request.
His boss was certainly one for chaos, but this seemed like a large scale operation.
"If all else fails, you must kill him," Masahiro continued to drawl, his voice dripping with casual indifference as he raised a hand, only to let it fall with an air of sudden seriousness.
"If you excel in this mission, I'll raise your position to second in command," he declared, his expression hardening like steel.
"None of my men have succeeded in this mission. The guards possess elemental abilities that have proven fatal; so every attempt has ended in complete disaster."
Is this bitch done yapping yet?
Kasai thought to himself, mentally rolling his eyes in exasperation, wondering why Masahiro couldn't have gotten to the point sooner. "Understood, sir; and what should I do if he manages to escape?" Kasai inquired, his voice laced with a mix of interest and determination.
He couldn't shake the feeling that Masahiro was deliberately assigning him to a mission that felt like a dance with death.
The target was a man of considerable status—one whose power surely surpassed even that of the guards who had been trained to kill any invaders.
Despite the daunting weight of the task ahead, Kasai had confidence in his skills, and he was ready to face whatever challenges lay in wait.
"Aw, what are you so afraid of?" Masahiro mocked, a smirk creeping across his face, and his voice dripping with condescension. "I didn't think you would give up that easily."
There was a playful challenge in his eyes, as if he relished the notion of pushing his opponent to the edge.
Kasai had to resist the urge to land his fist square in the other man's face. "Aye, I'm not a moron like some of the fuckers here. I know how to do my job." Kasai muttered, sending an indignant glance back at his lazy coworkers in the distance.
Kasai, feeling a surge of irritation towards this arrogant man, managed to maintain his composure.
With a calm, measured tone, he added, "But fine. Just remember, old man, I'm only in it for the money."
"Good, I didn't think you had it in you!" Now, get your useless ass to work." Masahiro barked his order with an air of authority that filled the room.
Feeling a surge of rebellion coursing through him in response to Masahiro's rude remarks,
Kasai brushed past the older man, ignoring the last words that hung in the air. As he did, his hand moved with expertise, swiping the pack of cigarettes nestled in Masahiro's pocket.
"Maybe you should learn to keep a tighter grip on your belongings then," Kasai remarked under his breath with a sly smirk, his voice dripping with arrogance as he swaggered toward the exit.
He let the box of cigarettes dangle from between his fingers, and with a flick of his other hand, summoned a small, flickering flame to ignite the pack as he threw Masahiro a glance over his back with a triumphant smile.
The fire danced eagerly, reflecting his defiance, as he reveled in the moment, savoring the thrill of his audacious act as the older man's precious cigarettes were reduced to nothing but useless ashes.
Kasai had to restrain himself from letting out an explosion of laughter as he saw the old man's veins practically bulge out of his face in rage, but he continued on.