[Ah. Mr. Hitman doesn’t want to be here. Yizhi isn’t sure if this is better than getting a zealot, all things considered, but there’s a part of him that feels a little… disrespected. He’s done so much reflecting on the possibility of death, the absence of mortal peril in the actual hit leaves him at a loss- how will his faction and Shuten move forward if they have evidence that Toraguma threatened a Lost Soul and didn’t follow through? Can he talk to a Shuten clan member again if he becomes the guy that pissed off their leader and then never quite paid up?
(Obviously, this doesn’t count as payment. This is, objectively, more of “bullying” than “a hit”.)]
…did Toraguma order the hit specially or is this part of a batch job?
[It’s arrogance borne from his old privilege. He should be grateful to be able to walk away. What a terrible thing, to be fooled by one’s material circumstances into thinking they are better than others, more deserving of goodness, or more deserving of attention when they are kidnapped or attacked.
But Yizhi really doesn’t consider himself a good person. Where-ever Hizen had slashed at him prior, whether on the upper arms or torso, there’s a peek of ink on his skin through the torn fabric. Strong black borders, rich green and gold colors. He continues to speak quietly, a serious frown on his face.]
I thought he did. If he did, this is not going to cut it, Mr. Hitman. Not that I’m unhappy, you’ve been impressive and scary, but we need something substantial to report to our leaders. There are standards. Break my arm or something.
mild iron widow spoilers
(Obviously, this doesn’t count as payment. This is, objectively, more of “bullying” than “a hit”.)]
…did Toraguma order the hit specially or is this part of a batch job?
[It’s arrogance borne from his old privilege. He should be grateful to be able to walk away. What a terrible thing, to be fooled by one’s material circumstances into thinking they are better than others, more deserving of goodness, or more deserving of attention when they are kidnapped or attacked.
But Yizhi really doesn’t consider himself a good person. Where-ever Hizen had slashed at him prior, whether on the upper arms or torso, there’s a peek of ink on his skin through the torn fabric. Strong black borders, rich green and gold colors. He continues to speak quietly, a serious frown on his face.]
I thought he did. If he did, this is not going to cut it, Mr. Hitman. Not that I’m unhappy, you’ve been impressive and scary, but we need something substantial to report to our leaders. There are standards. Break my arm or something.