The cityscape outside the window resembled a neon rainbow cutting through the dead of night. Vivid, multicolored displays flashed across countless billboards, while down below, a river of headlamps surged through the streets. Cargo transports glided past the window, and a steady drizzle streaked the glass with watery trails, blurring the kanji characters rolling across the building opposite. Inside, a petite woman in a white kimono was meticulously styling her sleek, jet-black hair.
The pale-faced geisha gazed out through the glass. Her lipstick was applied to a deep, bruised crimson, rich as fresh fruit. A green hue from the streetlights reflected off the windowpane, washing over her features. She raised a finger and traced through the condensation on the glass, carving the kanji character "心" (Heart)—as though trying to convey an unspoken message. She stood there, frozen and unyielding as a wooden statue.
Then, out of nowhere—knock, knock. A rap on the door echoed from behind her.
"Tianchi~ Wǎnshàng hǎo~~ Are you ready yet, babe?" a sweet voice cooed from just outside the luxurious, charcoal-gray suite. Inside, the geisha ran the edge of a tanto knife against her fingernail, testing its razor sharpness.
"How many are coming?" the geisha asked, her voice as icy as a winter draft.
"Thirteen, and that includes Mr. Tetsuo. Are you plotting something in there?" the girl's voice bled through the door, sharp with curiosity.
"Just a little token of appreciation. This is Japan, after all; if the clients expect impeccable service, we must deliver." She slipped the blade smoothly up her sleeve.
The door swung open, revealing a young Asian girl with her hair tied up in a charming bun, secured by a tri-colored comb. She wore a long black yukata. Her left eye was a cybernetic prosthetic, its color starkly mismatched with her genuine right eye. Her most defining feature, however, was a prominent black fang-shaped birthmark right beneath that left eye.
"The food here is incredible. Quality's way better than back in my city. God, I really love Japan." With that, she threw an arm around the geisha, pulling her into an embrace. "You're too cold, you know that?" the girl pleaded, her tone turning wheedling.
"...." The geisha turned away from the window to face her companion. Her stark white, powdered face was coated in a synthetic plastic-like laminate, the seams visibly tracing her jawline. Her pale green eyes remained entirely devoid of emotion.
"Let's go," she said flatly.
The two stepped out together, walking down a glass corridor that mirrored their silhouettes—until a figure stepped out, blocking the far end of the hallway. It was a tall man clad in a sharp, pinstriped black suit. The lower half of his face was masked by a heavy, sterile black respirator. His eyes locked onto them, burning with malice.
"Hey! The hell are you staring at?" the girl shouted. In a flash, she drew a pistol concealed beneath her thigh, leveling it across the room at the man.
But her weapon suddenly let out a violent crackle, short-circuiting right in her hand.
"Fuck! Oh, come on... I hate technology." With her gun fried, she slammed a gray capsule into her palm. It snapped open, extending instantly into a long, red iron baton—an excellent weapon for self-defense.
"Please, Let me handle him." the geisha murmured, stepping past her with footsteps as light and silent as a wildcat.
The man in black yanked out a handgun, preparing to open fire and end them both. The tanto blade shot out from the geisha's sleeve, aimed true. In one fluid motion, her free hand batted the muzzle of his gun aside while driving her blade deep into a fatal point in the left side of his chest. Coincidentally, the heavy, rhythmic thrumming of a taiko drum drifted over from a banquet in the adjacent room, perfectly masking the muffled scuffle.
The ceiling lights along the glass corridor cycled through a spectrum of colors, masking the fresh crimson pooling on the floor. Her bright green eyes caught her own reflection in the glass. The geisha reached up, wiping away a streak of red that had splattered onto her cheek, smearing it over her eyelids and cheekbones, turning the blood into a vivid mask of fresh makeup.
"Does the makeup smell of iron?" the icy geisha asked.
"Not at all. You didn't have to end him like that, y'know. Move aside, I'll clean up the mess. Hurry along to the tea party. Leave the tanto right in his chest—we have a spare for you anyway. Come on, move it."
"Then I'll leave the rest to you," the geisha said, her final words hanging in the air as she walked away.
A pair of massive red doors loomed ahead. Her stark white hand reached out, pushing them open to reveal a dazzling, breathtaking sea of neon light.
"Now, eliminate everyone in the room and leave no witnesses," a mysterious voice commanded.
CODE NAME : R053 - Shomyo of the first coming