The days following the mission at the warehouse were filled with silent tension. The routine, usually simple and predictable for Valentin Yuichi, now seemed to have an extra layer of complexity. Hiroshi Takeda, the young thug assigned to accompany him, was always near. At first, Valentin thought it was just a coincidence—perhaps the boss had his own reasons, something beyond Valentin's understanding. But it soon became clear that Hiroshi was there to stay. And, to make matters worse, the kid wasn't the type to stay quiet.
Valentin remained faithful to his unshakable discipline. Missions were carried out with precision, without failure. He didn't allow distractions. Hiroshi, on the other hand, always seemed on the verge of questioning the system, the method, Valentin's behavior. He watched the hitman as if Valentin were a complicated puzzle, something he refused to abandon without fully understanding it.
That day, their meeting was in a small convenience store on the side of the road. It was a typical drop-off point—nothing special, no distractions, but with a disturbing atmosphere, as if danger was just waiting to reveal itself. Valentin had arrived first. It was a cold and rainy Monday, and the store seemed empty, except for the occasional customer picking up something quick. The smell of coffee in the air wasn't enough to lift the weight Valentin felt on his shoulders. He didn't like surprises, but he knew that sometimes, they were inevitable.
Hiroshi showed up about 10 minutes later, the sound of his boots clicking on the concrete floor making Valentin lift his eyes from the newspaper he'd been reading. The young man seemed oblivious to everything around him, but his eyes—those piercing eyes—were paying attention to every detail. He was nervous, but in a way that Valentin couldn't fully decipher.
"You're early," Hiroshi said, his tone direct, with a hint of irony. He sat down across from Valentin and pulled a cigarette from his pocket.
"Mission," Valentin replied, as cold as always, looking up from the paper, as though Hiroshi's presence were a natural part of his routine, though deep down, he could sense an increasing awareness that there was more to the situation than he cared to admit.
Hiroshi took a drag from the cigarette, his eyes briefly losing focus before returning to the hitman. "You don't talk much, do you? Always been like that?"
Valentin lowered the newspaper, now fully focused on the young man. "Talk too much is a risk. And you, Hiroshi? Have you gotten used to it?"
Hiroshi bit his lip, a gesture of impatience that didn't go unnoticed. He knew what Valentin was implying: the danger of exposing too much, the risk of becoming vulnerable. But he didn't want to be reminded of that. He was there for something more, something Valentin couldn't understand.
"I adapt," Hiroshi answered vaguely, but with an intensity that made Valentin stop for a moment. It was a direct response, but it felt layered with things unsaid. There was something in Hiroshi's tone that spoke more than words.
But the moment of reflection was broken by the arrival of their contacts. The mission ahead required speed, precision, with no time for further conversation. It wasn't the right time to understand the relationship between them, and Valentin knew that.
---
The mission that day was straightforward, but it demanded skill. The target was a traitor within a rival organization, someone Valentin had crossed paths with before, and someone he knew would not go down easily. They were informed that the man would be in a garage downtown, surrounded by other thugs, as always happened when it was an important job.
Valentin entered first, silent as a shadow. His footsteps were almost inaudible on the dirty concrete, and his presence, invisible until the last moment. Hiroshi, however, was more restless. Unlike Valentin, who never showed haste, Hiroshi seemed anxious, as if he needed to finish things quickly.
"Stay behind," Valentin ordered, not even looking at the young man, before moving toward the target.
"I can handle it alone," Hiroshi replied, but his tone wasn't defiant. It was more a statement than a question. He knew his place was there, beside Valentin. But there was something in his voice that indicated he was still testing the limits of his companion.
Valentin ignored the provocation and moved forward, as precise as always. Within minutes, the mission was complete. The target was dead, and the remaining thugs had fled. Hiroshi then approached Valentin, once again looking frustrated, as if the words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat.
"You… always like this, huh? Cold, calculating, distant. Don't care about anything."
Valentin stared at him with a sharp look, once again not responding immediately. He'd heard this before, from other people. And it always meant one thing: weakness. "What do you want me to say?" Valentin's reply was dry, but not impersonal. He didn't like unnecessary questions, the attempts to humanize what he did. It was simple: the job was the priority.
But Hiroshi didn't back down. "Maybe the job isn't everything. I… I can see that you're hiding something. It's not just what you do that defines who you are, right?"
The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, like rain refusing to fall.
"When you let yourself feel, Hiroshi," Valentin began, his voice dropping even lower, "you become vulnerable. And that's not an option for people like us."
Hiroshi didn't answer immediately, but the silence between them was broken again. Not by words, but by a subtle understanding, a silent exchange. Something was beginning there, a growing tension, but without words. Valentin didn't know exactly what it was. It wasn't what he usually felt after a mission. It was something more, and, in some way, it bothered him.
They left the place together, but now, the way back felt different. Closer, yet equally distant. Both of them knew that the next step wasn't just about surviving the job. Something was changing.