Hitoshi's not one for names. Faces are what stick out to him. He's seen hundreds across the years.[break]
This creature's cold eyes sap the warmth from the dog's blood. They drench him in a cool wind. It's all too human terror, like when he looked at the cat outside the tomb. Turning back to his ramen, he washes down the broth. The warmth left in the bowl helps melt the ice in his veins.[break]
"Good to see ya, boss." It's a word reserved for a select few.[break]
Standing up, he pulls his hood up to keep the rain out of his scruffy hair. When this is over, he doesn't want Yumi complaining about the wet dog smell or his hair's incessant capacity to retain water.[break]
"Just got one question. After that, I've got this: you want him disposed of after we're done, or do you want us to leave him?" Rocket likes to send messages sometimes. If that is the wish of he who holds the dog's leash, it will be done.

That's all he needs to hear. Everything else will fall into place. Hitoshi dons some gloves. As they slink through alleys and dark streets, he slips a mask on. It's similar to the one he wore during Yumi's party at the casino. A wolf's head snarls at the world. Distinct, but it leaves him anonymous. Better that the mask gain a reputation rather than the man behind the mask. He's not just playing this game for himself. There's someone at home, to whom his name is attached, that will be hurt by any clumsiness.[break]
It's time to impress the boss.[break]
Time to get to work.[break]
Seeing the door and the telltale light, he looks at the door. Quiet as a beast stalking through the forest, he checks the door. Like any good mark who realizes he's being hunted, the herbivore locks the door to its lair. The wolf came prepared. A lockpick slips into the door. Someone has trained this dog well.[break]
The door opens with a singsong click. Hitoshi doesn't bother to see if the big man follows behind him. Indeed, it's as if the man isn't there at all. He's just an evaluator for now. Following the light, clinging to the shadow, he sees the man working. With a nod to Kartana, the man doesn't even know he's dead yet.[break]
It's almost cheating, using an Ultra Beast. It flies right through his heart. Minimal blood splatter. Hitoshi's rushing in after him, holding one hand over the dying man's mouth while the other presses him into Hitoshi. He's aiming to catch the blood. Let him disappear without a trace.[break]
Just one small problem with that.[break]
A little girl in pink PJs rubs at her eye, brown curls falling behind her. She's wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time.[break]
"Daddy? Are you coming to bed soon?"

The girl he says, as if those words alone are supposed to convey some deeper meaning.[break]
They're like an artist's painting, a song, or the written word. Once tossed into the world, they are devoured and interpreted by others. How they're read says as much about the viewer as it does the artist.[break]
Hitoshi meets her eyes. He's killed all sorts of people on the orders of those back home. He killed them when he was young, a dog running the streets simply to survive. He has never looked one in the eyes.[break]
There's a half-second of hesitation. Ruthless efficiency stalls. Were she not hypnotized, made easy prey, a lamb to the slaughter, it might have afforded her some chance at escape. There is none. It affords her heart one more beat...[break][break]
...and then, it is ran through. He points and Kusanagi obeys.[break]
She falls.[break]
An intrusive thought enters his mind.[break]
What if that had been Yumi? Mei? Sheba? Huxley? Adele?[break]
The next step would be to release his Ceruledge. A controlled fire to burn the bodies, followed by terrastallization into water to douse the flames and remove errant blood. It would be like they never existed at all.[break]
Instead, his eyes look at nothing in particular.[break]
Did he fight so hard for twenty years just to come back and be no better than the monster he hates?

Before the beast that reigns supreme in the woods, he tucks his tail. A tinge of annoyance on the stone mask of this man's face is enough to signal his displeasure. Was the kill not efficient enough? No, that's not it. This isn't the sort of creature who would frame a comment with sarcasm. Was the death imprecise?[break][break]
Questions reign in his mind. Questions pondered for twenty years while one was a king and the other a traveling swordsman. At least the Beast takes the taller task for himself, cleaning up the girl. Moving to where the detective's body lays still, Hitoshi's hand balls into a fist.[break]
"She wouldn't have to die if you kept your nose clean, stupid!" He berates the dead, who can no longer hear him. A blow accompanies the words, a strong blow that doesn't matter. Scooping the man up, he stumbles towards the darkness of the coffin.[break]
"What happens to people you put in here?" He asks. Even he knows it's a stupid question.

"Guess that's that, then." He says with slumped shoulders. The bodies will be disposed of and it will be as if they never existed at all. Clean-up and disposal is nowhere near as exciting as the murder itself. It's waiting, navigating, finding somewhere quiet outside the city where the corpses can be turned to dust.[break]
After that, he's only bound here by the Beast's words. Hitoshi stands, waiting for further instructions. He supposes he can hurry this along. Once the bodies are gone and the blood's cleaned up, there's nothing binding them here together.[break]
"Anything else you want me to do, or am I free to go?" He asks, very much wanting to go.