#not only he refused to kill a baby but he outright murdered his colleague who wanted to do so

[mahlersgirl]

I think about the assassin who refused to kill baby mizu a lot

[tackyink]

Everything is under the cut because the first line is a spoiler for the manga. Specifically for the prequel, but it’s already been revealed in the main one too. Around 760 words.

———————————————————

“Suguru’s dead.”

The words rattle in Shiho’s head for a few seconds before taking proper shape. They aren’t unexpected, the sword of Damocles had been hanging over their former colleague’s head for years, and it was a given that it would fall since he had openly gone on the offensive. 

The only reason it didn’t happen earlier was that the one person who could do something about it had no intention to unless his hand was forced. And it was.

In the beat of silence that follows Satoru’s casual declaration, Shiho cracks open the can in her hand and drops next to him on the floor with a long sigh, leaning against the wall.

“How are you?” she asks, expecting nothing of substance, and he immediately proves her right.

“I’m fine,” he bullshits, refusing to look at her, and he smiles. “You don’t have to keep it to yourself, I know—Ow!”

Shiho’s elbow has rebounded before making contact with his arm, but he has enough dramatic sense to complain anyway. “Don’t make this about me! He’s your best friend!”

She realizes too late that she should have said was.

“He’s your friend, too.”

Friend. There’s an odd weight to the term. Suguru was way more than that to both of them, but they have never spoken it out loud and this is definitely not the time to do so.

The lack of animosity in her tone betrays her words. “Before he went murder-happy, sure.”

It’s a lie and they know it. There isn’t a lot of room to judge others for killing when you’re a sorcerer, and Shiho had been hoping against hope that one day Suguru would realize how outright stupid his plan was and come back to them. Shiho knows she could have welcomed him back like nothing had happened. It’s not like she knew his victims. She’s pretty sure that Satoru would’ve done the same. Shouko… well, Shouko has always kept her distance. She’s too smart to be hurt by others. Shiho’s been wishing for a decade she was more like her.

“I wish it had been me.”

“The one who died?”

She looks at him with incredulity. “The one who killed him, silly.”

He’s thoughtful for a moment, as if contemplating the hypothetical scenario. “He would’ve killed you.”

“I could’ve taken him with me.”

“That’s true.”

But there was only one person in the world capable of laying a hand on Suguru Geto without getting killed, and that was precisely why Satoru had been the one to do it.

It’s hard to believe she will never see his smile again. She would’ve liked to say goodbye. Her heart constricts at the thought.

Unsettlingly enough, as soon as she thinks that, Satoru says, “He wished you good luck with your goal.”

“Hah,” comes out the bitter laugh. It hurts more than having nothing at all, she realizes. Maybe that’s why he’s taken a while to tell her. 

Minutes go by in silence as they drink and don’t look at each other. It isn’t uncomfortable, they’ve known each other for too long for that, but time seems to stretch like a rubber band until Shiho’s impatience — with what, or whom, she doesn’t know — makes it snap and the somber spell vanishes. She stuffs her half-empty drink in the trashcan and gets up in one swift motion. “Ugh, this sucks!” And she kicks one of the vending machines for good measure.

“You’ve always had it out for that one.”

“We suck.”

“Excuse me? Speak for yourself.”

“No, shut up. We need chocolate.”

“I’m listening.”

He’s staring at her, expectant for her next move. Some of the earlier edge is gone, which means they’re on the same page. It’s worrying how often that seems to happen.

She grabs him by the same arm she tried to hit before, only now he’s not being difficult, and she pulls him along as she starts to make her way towards the school’s entrance. Some of the damage from the battles that have taken place is still visible, but she ignores it and the staff cleaning the biggest chunks of debris. “The bakery on the third block down the street now has Black Forest cake. I’m going to buy one and we’re going to eat half each.”

“Only if I get all the cherries.”

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

“After I did all the hard work?”

“Oh, fine, you big baby!” she says with fake disdain, letting him go now that she’s sure he’s following.

The day doesn’t get a lot better, but the cake helps make it easier to pretend.