Perfect Mask.

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Smoke rose up in the outskirts of town, veiling an alley far away from the main street. There where a person squatted down amidst the dirt and the grime of trashes and reeking sacks. A hand raise to his mouth. Fingers holding onto a thin roll, inhaling deep. The taste of ash thick in his mouth as he breathed out, long and drawn out, hanging on to the lingering choking feeling. A door behind him opened and a shook of dark lime green hair peeked out, "Miyuki?"

The man sitting on the ground tipped his head sideways, rags of brown hair teetering above his eyes, lapsing against the black rim of his glasses as he gazed at the newcomer. Glowing amber eyes met steely citrine ones. And the other snorted, shifted his weighted to his other foot and placed a hand on his hip and glared down at Kazuya, "It wasn't my fault. Don't let it out on me."

Kazuya averted his eyes, stared back at the dark smudge on the opposite wall. Behind him, Kuramochi neared him, huffing an annoyed breath, probably realising he was ignored. His shoes crushing beneath rocks and litter as he ran his hands up and down his arms, nearing him, "Come inside. You'll freeze out here."

Kazuya paid him no heed and puffed out another lungful amount of toxic fume, somewhat relishing in it as it left his lips.

"Miyuki?"

"Leave him."

Another voice perked him, deep and familiar. Kuramochi turned but Kazuya didn't move an inch, only sent an eye to the corner of his socket, watching Ryousuke lean on the door frame, a smile loitering like always on his lips and Kazuya turned away, inhaling deep.

Kuramochi hesitated, worry etched on his features. He sent one look back at Kazuya's crouching body. Citrine eyes especially lingering on his thin V-neck shirt and loose sweatpants. "Are you sure, Ryousuke?"

"Just leave him."

"But he hasn't-"

"If he wants to stay out here, then let him." Ryousuke reached for Kuramochi's arm, tugging him towards the door, "He can be as grumpy as he wants. After all," he begun, tone light and toying, "It was his own fault. A single slip up on his part."

Kuramochi threw one last glance over his shoulder, but Kazuya remained motionless. The door opened with a creak, a stripe of light illumed on the foul ground, lightening up the trash cans and greases. Flashing on the stained wall and half of Kazuya's face before the door slammed shut, and then, it was silent again.

The cigar tipped over his lips. As if in slow motion, he watched it fall, dropping into a puddle as if in slow motion. He stood up, stretching up his aching muscles and flipped his phone over. Fingers hovering over the key pad before they moved on autopilot. Clicking their way towards the message, he received months ago. Seven months, to be exact.

Next Target : Sawamura Eijun. 21 years old.

Sum : Negotiable.

Deadline : A week.

Shoving his fingers inside his pocket, he fished out his pack of cigarette and flamed another. The stick joggled between his lips, occasionally bobbing up and down as he bit hard. His gaze wandered upwards. There were the stars shone bright, easily noticeable around the dark blue.

He shone brighter, though.

Kazuya snickered and grinned crookedly. Somewhat loose; somewhat insane and dropped his phone, crashing against the pavement. The screen cracked. But the message was still on display. Just like Kazuya remembered.

A week, huh?

It certainly has been longer than that.

The butt's end alight, glowing blazing orange and a fading yellow as the grey tip continued to crumble between his shoes. A line of smoke waved into the air, flaring and mingling with the lingering fog around him.

It certainly has.

The room was silent when they stepped in. On the couch sat Shirasu. A deck of cards on his hands, he shuffled through. Separating them into halves, laying them on top each other and merged them together again. His brows were slightly creased and his lips jut out the tiniest bit. But he didn't say a word, kept his silence and continued mixing his cards. Youichi frowned.

If you're worried then say so.

He heard the light rustling of fabric and Ryousuke appeared into his line of vision, heading towards the sink and filled himself a glass of water. Isashiki's head followed him, momentarily gazing away from the magazine he was leaning into and crooked his head a little backwards, seeing past Tetsu's dark mob at Ryousuke with furrowed brows, but he too didn't utter a word. Instead threw a single glance at Youichi; fast and fleeting, as if nothing was wrong.

The green haired reflexively balled a fist but breathed out, long and deep and planted himself on the couch near Shirasu. Reminding himself to stay calm. They were all restless, aflutter. It wouldn't be good idea to throw a commotion just for feeling a little on edge.

A little on edge, he repeated and closed his eyes, that was all.

"He didn't come in?"

Youichi snapped his eyes open, staring right at Tetsuya's golden eyes and shook his head. "Didn't want to."

"And you let him there?" Isashiki spoke up, eyes directed at Ryousuke as he spit out. "Just like that?"

"If he wants to stay there, then let him." He smiled, placed the half empty cup on the counter with a clicking sound and leaned against the rim of the sink as he turned, arms crossed. "It's not like we can do anything else for him."

"So, you'll let him have his will," Isashiki said offhandedly. A light remark but still uncharacteristically quiet. "Rather than his life."

His voice hovered among them and Youichi ducked his head. From the corner of his eyes he saw Shirasu's hands falter. A card slipped between his fingers and fell to the ground, close to the table's leg. But that was enough reaction for Isashiki, for he gritted out and kicked the table in front of him.

"You friggin funks!" he lashed out, "You're the type of guys I hate the most! Especially you! You, mugface!" he glowered at the back of Ryousuke's head, who ignored him and picked up his cup again.

"Wish you'll choke on that." The tawny head muttered spitefully before pointing his finger at his next verbal victim. Youichi bit the inside of his cheek, knowing what's coming next but silently awaited his fate. "And Kuramochi! Don't bother talking to me."

"Now, now," A hand rested on his leg, fingers barely squeezing the tip of his knee before letting go but it was enough to calm him. Tetsu always could. "You know the rules, Jun. We only got each other."

Isashiki tched and mumbled out a reply, spluttering incoherently but kept quiet after that, settled back onto the couch. Shoulders slouched and passive, he resumed flipping through the magazine. But, his murder intent still loitered in the air, though. Sharp and cutting.

It was no secret that Isashiki had been against to plot behind Miyuki. To swivel him back to this miserable life when he could've been out there and live his life to the fullest. Away from the blood, the screams and the resounding gunshots. But it never had been that easy. How could it be when they were constantly monitored? To think Miyuki made it this far, unknowingly even, gave Youichi the chills—and that's saying something.

"How did it start, anyway?"

Youichi tilted his head towards Shirasu side profile. The crease was gone but his lips were now parted and his fingers were trembling. Youichi followed Shirasu's gaze that led him to the floor. There were the card lay.

The third of Hearts. The law of life. Faith.

Youichi sent a glance back on Shirasu's hands and sure enough, there was—

"The six of Spades." Ryousuke voice filled the room once more. "Adjustment, revaluation and reflection, was it?" He stepped forward, placed his arms on the edge of the couch, close to where Tetsu's neck was and gazed at Shirasu. Perfectly ignoring how the dark aura from Isashiki rose in spikes.

"Sixes deal with past actions." the pink haired smiled, slim and gleaming. Youichi swallowed, knowing where this was heading. He looked back at Isashiki and noted alarmed that his hands were fisted and slightly trembling.. "A bit too late to mention it, don't you agree?"

"Shut up!"

There it goes. Youichi pushed the couch away with the back of his knees. Away from the fire that was about to explode from Isashiki.

"Don't act like you care!" he growled out, jumping to his feet. Ready to attack and kill.

But Tetsu stretched his arm out long, blocking Isashiki's way towards Ryousuke and mumbled a quiet, "Sit down."before Tetsu gave Ryousuke a hard stare. "Don't set him up."

"Why, I haven't done anything."

"Like hell you haven't!" Isashiki started again, advancing onwards, pressing up against Tetsuya's arm and leaned forwards. "You—!"

"The three of Hearts. . .isn't that what we should be doing right now?" Shirasu spoke up again, cutting Isashiki's rant off and averting their attention. "Looking for new roads to take? A new direction?"

"Optimism and faith?" Tetsuya quickly caught on and pulled with both hands a still struggling Isashiki down next to him. "Why?"

"Just a feeling, really. But," Shirasu scratched the back of his mob, slightly gazing away. "Here's something wrong. Something doesn't feel right."

"Ah, you talking about me."

The tone was light and yet Youichi could detect the sharp edge and hinted graveness in it. He turned his head toward the door where Miyuki stood. A hand still clutched onto the handle and posture definite- straight back and his chin crookedly tipped to their direction with a lopsided grin. But that was it. There was no fast retort. No cheekiness. No anything. Just plain nothing.

Exactly, what Miyuki was right now. Leftovers of scraped dust that once presented him tall and astute, rising above the high grass and leafs, above the skyscrapers close to the drawn-out blueness of skies, where he shone much of his falsified glory before he crumbled and crashed down, ending up to be this shallow walking human being he now was.

Youichi sighed deep and heavy, breaking the expanding stillness of his mates as Miyuki stepped further in, closed the door behind him with a soft click. The room, now devoid of any sound, followed Miyuki's ghost like movements as he darted with soft shoe brushes across the room, glided between the door and frame that led up to the staircase and flitted away. Probably up to his room. The smell of burned tar remained though, Youichi thought, pinching his nose.

"That thing being wrong," Youichi begun, steering his head at Shirasu. "Is that him?" He pointed at the door Miyuki went through, and then motioned his hand at himself, "Or is it us?"

"It might be all of us too, y'know? Together, I mean." Isashiki threw in, now calmed down. The palm of his hand propped against his cheek as he waved his other hand, eyes closed and lowered as he huffed out: "We haven't really been all that chummy with each other, lately."

"And that's coming from you?" Ryousuke snorted, smile less sharp and more cunning.

"What, you tryna say something?" Isashiki barked, canting his head at him. A vein throbbed on his temple and Youichi blazingly noticed that Isashiki's fists were clenched. Again.

Besides him, Tetsu sighed. "Calm down, you two."

"But is Kazuya really alright like that?" Youichi asked, getting them back on track. "He's been this way for about what? A month?"

"Almost two months." Tetsuya spoke up, fingers interlinked in front of his face and elbows propped on the table. A look of pure concentration around him. "He doesn't seem to get better at all. Maybe he'll stay like that."

Isashiki snorted, not at all satisfied. "I've told you we should have let them stay together."

"Yeah, and then let him get killed by them, too." Ryousuke went along, still smiling even after Isashiki's murder intent was still directed at him. How that was possible, Youichi honestly did not know. "We have told you, how many times now? We only got each other. Get into your head."

"Exactly why you should've taken Miyuki's mental health into consideration." He retorted back, "Look what happened to that poor sucker now. I can feel your love, alright."

"Knock it off, already." Tetsuya drawled firmly, raising a hand to rub his temple.

Opposite him, Youichi sighed, supporting his chin under his knuckles. "Jeez, I wonder how Chris ever got you to behave. It's a miracle, really, with the way you're always on each other."

This seems to stop all chatter (or more like banter), just like he wanted.

Shirasu threw his cards on the table as if they bring disdain rather than Youichi's words. Next to him, Isashiki sprawled his feet on top of the table and rolled his head back on the edge of the couch, the whiteness of his eyes on full display as he retched and gurgled while he clutched his neck in a choke hold. Tetsu placed his head into his hands, giving Youichi a very reprimanding look.

"Don't remind us, please." Shirasu voiced, quietly. "I don't want to remember him."

"Revising a second love story is not what I need." Isashiki scrunched his face, still sprawled wide on the small couch. "Or a second version of love gone bad." Next to him, Tetsu mutely patted his back.

"True, we don't need more assassins taken down by some lovey dovey feelings." Youichi added, thoughtfully. It was ridiculous, really. The amount of people infected with that spreading disease was close to insane. It messed with their heads, toyed with their thoughts and ultimately distracted them from their work which was absolutely lethal. The worst thing Youichi can imagine. And to think people voluntarily rejoice such feelings? Gross!

How Miyuki survived the last months was a real mystery to Youichi. Other companies like Yakushi already have him written up as a goner, similarly did Inashiro Industrial although they were more reluctant.

It was a matter of time until he'll take his life like Tanba did, Youichi thought brows furrowing, but with the way Miyuki right now is—slipping away and fading into the background of his safe sanctuary of his room, and shuffling between finishing jobs off flawlessly despite being lovesick, and sneaking away from their constant probing the questions about his well-being—he seemed absolutely fine. Alright, even.

Maybe he wasn't as affected as I thought.

But then, Youichi remembers how quiet and evasive he has become of their group and he thinks otherwise. Chris and Tanba weren't like that when the disease caught them. Tanba spent his time locked up his room, barely eating and yet still executed A classed missions and even at times S classed, gambling his life and toying with it as though it was worthless. While Chris. . .err let's just say it wasn't pretty.

Rather, gory and ruthless. Youichi still remembered it. The way he found him with his body parts twisted and shredded. Inner fillings ripped out and scatter across the lobby into the foyer. His blood splattered against walls, dripping on the floor where Chris head was placed on, wide eyed and mouth opened in shock and most of all dead. The typical trademark of them. Their work.

Youichi balled his hands. They didn't have to go that far. Falling in love was one thing (as disgusting as it was) but jeopardising them for that was just downright cruel. And with two of their main killers gone, along with Miyuki that was bound to follow, it really makes the citrine eyed wonder who it is going to hit next.

Will it be him? Shirasu? Or Isashiki? Surely it can't be Tetsuya nor Ryousuke. In all honesty, Youichi can't imagine them being sappy nor a blushing fidgeting mess. But the way it's going it's really unpredictable. As far as he know Tetsu can grab a pen and paper by tomorrow morning and construct a typical love-poem-like-letter or Ryousuke might bake a self-made chocolate for his lover in their small kitchen, singing "My Love," all the way through to convey his undying love.

He cringed. That was something he didn't want to experience. But, as long as this disease wasn't countered by something, they were all destined to die of love sickness. Youichi sighed into his hands.

This wasn't what I imagined my life to be like.

"How did it start, anyway?" Isashiki said, frowning and deep in thought, breaking Youichi out of his thought. Not at all noticing the way Shirasu contorted his brows and demeanour darkened.

"A bit too late for that, don't you think." Shirasu bit out.

"Huh?" Isashiki blinked, and then without warning, howled in pain. "What was that for!?"

He turned towards Tetsu who was rubbing his red turning hand, muttering "Your head is as hard as they say you're stubborn," and then added: "A real hard-head," at which Isashiki growled on.

"And you're oblivious, too." Ryousuke supplied, throwing a sharp glance at Tetsuya. "A real knuckle-head."

"What are you guys talking about?" Isashiki whirled his head from left to right, utterly confused.

If Youichi didn't know the loud mouth's vile habits and antics he would felt sorry for him, but no, since Isashiki thought Youichi'spillow would be a good combatant against Tetsu's snores, there was no freaking way he was going to stop this torture any time soon, instead he leaned back into his seat and enjoyed the show. Although it was short lived for Shirasu lunged a card at tawny haired. It grazed his cheeks, fell against the couch's surface and tumbled down. The face of Joker lay upwards. Sharp teeth lined into wicked grin on his clown-y face. Youichi stopped a shudder. If there was one thing he hates; it was freaking clowns.

Ryousuke was first to snort and mumbled out: "How fitting for you."

But it was met with a quick "Shut up!" from Isashiki who still probably didn't get it. Youichi sniggered.

How stupid can you be?

"What are you snickering at, you dingo!"

"The Joker, Jun, is your card. Your personality." Tetsu tried and failed.

Isashiki glowered at him, not at all happy. "Whaddya mean?"

"You," Ryousuke pointed at Isashiki, speaking slow and drawn out, "Are a free spirit—untameable as much as you're foolish and reckless. Hence, the Joker. It's you."

"I'm not a frigging clown! You uglymug!"

"No," Youichi agreed, "But you sure as hell aren't mindful."

"Huh?"

"How did it start, anyway?" the lime green haired mimicked, barely suppressing his laughter, "Doesn't it sounds familiar?"

"Shut up!" Isashiki's cheeks tinted the faintest red as he growled, clearly remembering and tipped his head towards Shirasu in apology, "I'll listen to you next time, but not at those poltroons." he crossed his arms, looking away as he still pressed on the matter, putting his point across the disapproving stares and the not so muffled laughter. "But, how did it? Miyuki was always that unreachable go getter. Always moving on his own pace. Never stopping for anybody. And then, boom! He turned to be that slucker."

"Slacker," Ryousuke corrected, "Or sucker. Don't just mix up words," but he was totally ignored as Tetsuya commented too.

"Makes you wonder how he fell in love."

"Shouldn't be possible." Shirasu agreed.

"But it happened and not overnight, either," they way Youichi saw it, it happened slowly but surely. As though it was inevitable. This seems to get the others attentions too.

"You know something." Tetsu immediately stated, golden eyes aflame.

"Tell us everything." Isashiki demanded, adjusting his seat on the couch, and grabbed a cushion from the table. "I want every single detail. Don't leave anything out."

"I thought you didn't want anymore love stories." Ryousuke said as he walked away and grabbed a blow form the cupboards. Probably about to prepare popcorns while Shirasu hopped up and placed a pot on the stove and got out chocolate bars from who-knows-where to fix their traditional hot beverage.

"Now then," Tetsuya stated when they were finally settled. It took twenty minutes from them to arrange andthen rearrange themselves into the perfect positions. Isashiki took the couch, shoving Tetsu away and lay on his stomach, stretched out with his arms hugging the pillow under his head. Whilst, Tetsuya went down without protests, sat on the floor with legs close to his chest, golden eyes solely focused on Youichi in anticipation.

The dark lime green haired sweated, shifted in the armchair he's been ushered onto by them. If he didn't know better, he'd say the whole thing reminds him of way overgrown boys waiting for their much sought after bed time story. He gazed at the other couch where Shirasu moved away from—to sit in front of him with legs stretched out and hands planted in his lap near Tetsu- and Ryousuke now sat himself sideways on. He too was staring at him, expectantly. Chin raised and smile a bit too cutting at the corners. Probably taking delight at Youichi's displeasure. Youichi held back a curse. You could've told them, too.

"Well," He scratched his head and looked away from them, "I don't know much but—"

"Cut the crap, just tell us already."

Youichi sent a glare at Isashiki's direction but continued anyway. "As far as I know it happened early spring. March. You know when he has gotten that message—"

"We know that. Stop preluding and tell us what we don't know."

A vein throbbed slightly away from his knitted eyebrows, but Youichi forced himself to tranquillise. "Miyuki was doing his usual thing—"

"No, get to the point!"

Calm, Youichi, you need to stay calm.

"If you would just let me finish-"

"No, you're taking too long!" Isashiki rose from his position onto his knees and hurled his arm at him, pillow smacking his face. "Kuramochi! Tell us the beginning, the trigger, the friggin cause! I want the cause!"

Youichi blinked, citrine eyes wandering over his friends and lastly falling on the tawny haired as he slowly released his grasp on the cushion. "You mean. . .you don't know?"

Youichi rubbed his face as he was met by stifling silence. He could feel the smile from Ryousuke broadening, more gleaming and the lime green haired breathed out, long and deep.

"You want to know the cause?" He asked loosely, somewhat aloof, somewhat rarefied to keep the detest away from his voice but it was still a bit feverish though as he said, "Hiromitsu Ochiai."

Shirasu let out a small gasp, while two others eyes widened and Ryousuke stopped smiling. But before Youichi could dwell on why, he felt a chill breeze by the nape of his neck and shivered from what he thought was the cold. Youichi gazed back at the floor where he saw three pairs of eyes, glowering at him. Flashing deep crimson and blazing orange lighted up right behind them, along with a sizzling swirls yellow as their demeanour continued to darkened—err—afire.

A hand slammed on the table. "That bastard! How could he—umpf!"

Tetsu clasped his hand on Isashiki's mouth, full concentration directed at Youichi, with his golden eyes ablaze and glinting, he said, "Tell us every single ever so little detail. I want the whole thing. Without break."

Youichi wasn't surprised. Rather, he expected outrageous reactions although Tetsuya did manage to astonish him. The way he lit up more bright and furious than the rest of them, reminded him who their leader actually was among them. During his daily, stressful life he tend to forget that, especially after a long day of work when the majority of them were making huge hassles of who get to eat the last cookie, the last chip, the last chocolate. The answer was obvious after all, he thought grinning wide:

Kura-friggin-mochi Youichi!

Hyhaha!

"Stop smiling like a creep and start already!"

Youichi huffed and mumbled under his breath, readying himself. He remembered it clearly in his mind's eye as he begun to revive the memory bit by bit before piecing them together as a whole puzzle. As he done so, he readjusted his seat on the armchair until he matched them up in the right place. When he was finished, he took a deep breath, prepared himself to start anew.

"March. Early spring. Seven months ago. He received his next victim. Sawamura Eijun, as you already know. It was supposed to be the usual thing, you know; set them up and shoot them dead- the normal procedure," he shrugged. "But you know, Kazuya was never like that. Never settled for simplicity. . ."

And now look where it got him.

Alright, so this is based on two stories I have written in summer, 2015.

The two being Long forgotten Life and its sequel, Perfect Mask. Both of them are discontinued.

Why? It messed up my mind.

I started out with Perfect Mask then stopped and wrote is pre-sequel, Long forgotten Life. But then, I stop and write is its predecessor, Inevitable Two, to make sense of the two stories above, until I realised I couldn't do it without writing Dairy Entries (still not published).

But at that point, I had already thrown my hands up and thought, Enough is Enough. I took a break. A long one. I forgotten about this story completely, until today.

I combined LfL and PM to create this. It's still unfinished but I might come back to it in future, when I can look at it without remembering the agony and frustration. It still hasn't disappeared….two years later. XD

But if you don't mind reading something unfinished, please go ahead!