Crowds were trouble. Darkness was as much an enemy as it was an ally. Mysterious lighting and music blaring were more openings for strangers to take a shot. A dozen endless blindspots - and on top of that, most glasses were smudged, few bartenders had a clue of how to handle themselves. Yet, Midousuji still found he did not quite loathe nightclubs.

They had their use. His escort shook as he gestured to his special seat, stuttered apologies ruining the severe image he should have held. Midousuji sneered, but took the seat. Most people would never overcome their disgusting cowardice. He took off a glove to slide a finger around the brim of his glass, a sweet hum responding. Perhaps the staff finally took his threats seriously. The soft tinge of lemon went well alongside clean water. Good enough. If he only had to be here one night, it was bearable.

"Thank you all so much for coming out tonight!"

Trumpets rose a cheer with the audience, and his target walked out on stage. Manami Sangaku - dressed down in white, spotlights centered around them as halos and magic. Midousuji's lips curled up in a measure of disgust. A pretty show for a singer steeped in enough sin that he'd be the one called out to kill them.

"I've had so much fun here in Kyoto, but I'm afraid this is my last night performing here!" A chorus of wails circled up around them, as they closed their eyes, patiently waiting through it - they knew what they were doing. Midousuji leaned forward to listen. "I understand, but I promise I'll be back another year. I'd never want to let any of you down," they said, giving an elegant curtsy, standing straight in another instant with a pert smile. "With that said, let's start the show!"

He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair as the music started - piano ivories noisily popping up as Manami spun a finger along, bouncing their shoulders. The mark was a joke. They had a watchful eye, but it all seemed like another part of the mask a performer would show any fan. He pulled his glove back on. The building had been cased a dozen times over in preparation. There were no bodyguards, no eyes to watch and protect them.

Whoever had been protecting them from previous assassins clearly wasn't interested in doing so anymore - or perhaps had become so cavalier as to think there would be no more.

"But I was sure surprised," floating through the air, singing old classics in English. Drums popped noisily in his ears - bass twanged as they swung from side to side - he should have brought ear plugs. "Heaven help me, I didn't see, the devil in your eyes."

Between that and the contractor demanding it be up-close - that it be hidden behind the scenes, away from the crowd's eye - it was annoying. Having someone snipe Manami from outside a window would be preferable and easy, rising a panic enough to lose oneself in, but the pay offered was certainly something. The information that came with it, the pure power in blackmail, it would have been a fool's errand to turn it down.

A piece of ice cracked between Midousuji's teeth. If nothing else, it was his preference to handle matters as personally as possible. Easy did not mean clean - as long as he was the one taking care of it, there would be no mistakes made.

He watched them spin around and bounce, leaning into their band mates, grinning wide and - his eyes slanted, staring at that smile. The guitarist brushed them away with more than slight discomfort. No one would notice, with how Manami danced away, but there were flashes. They spun too quickly, moved too much, for him to catch any sure glance, but it was strange. Their wide eyes watching everything and everyone, catching anyone in the audience. Their smile's curve, not always soft and - he thought it with a measure of disgust - cute, as a singer like this was trained to be. Sharpening around the words, as though they were weapons in their own right.

"The sad sack was a sittin' on a block of stone," they sang, swinging their hip with each wave of guitar strings, "Way over in the corner weepin' all alone." Swinging up an arm to point at him. "The warden said, hey buddy, don't you be no square," staring straight at him, smile cutting up strangely on their face, they leaned over, bouncing toward him over the stage, singing, "If you can't find a partner, use a wooden chair."

"Gross," he muttered.

Midousuji's lips barely moved, but Manami still stood up straight, ignoring the music as it went on except to to bounce their shoulders. "Gross? Not at all!"

Their band mates groaned behind them. The audience murmured in confusion as they started apologizing - Midousuji stood up to leave. This was pointless.

"Hey!" He didn't stop walking. "Could someone please stop him, the tall one, thank you!"

Bouncers were up to grab Midousuji's shoulders before Manami finished their request. He ripped his arms away, shuddering at people thinking they had any right. He turned around, putting on a wide-tooth smile as Manami waved from the stage.

"Hello, sir! I saw you there, and you didn't look like you were having much fun!" Disgusting. "I don't like leaving town with people looking so down. You should get comfy up here at the front, there's plenty of space!" Their lashes fluttered, poised pretty and open. "It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, too. It'd be a waste if you left now, don't you think?"

Everyone was staring now, a quiet cheer beginning to grow, people agreeing, clapping for him. His smile didn't seem to put them off - they only bounced along to the claps, gesturing to move on up. He took his time as he walked to the spare table they pointed him to. There were too many people who had seen him now. It would cause more trouble if he actively refused.

"Thank you, sir," Manami said, crouching with a bounce. "What's your name?" He shook his head. "Do you have any requests? Any songs you'd like to hear?"

"No, thank you," he said as snide as he could. "I didn't come for you. I like this bar."

"Oh, really," they answered, almost whispering. "You'll have to tell me what your favorite drinks on the menu are." They matched his toothy smile as they swung back up into the music. "Sorry for the interruption, folks! Just a couple of songs left in the set before I've got to go!"

Piano wire sat safe in his pocket. He had time to fix this problem, for all of how annoying it was. Manami went on glancing down at him, singing as they did, bright grin flashing on their face every time they met eyes. He liked it even less than he did before.

There wasn't an encore.

Midousuji stood to leave as Manami hastily left the stage, late and foolish, in their own words.

"You're him, right?" He turned - the guitarist stood there, folded arms, tight frown on his face. "That kid wants to see you backstage." Midousuji started to refuse, but he put up his hands. "Listen. I don't wanna think about anything Manami does, so if you're gonna ask what you're wanted for, don't fuckin' ask me. But you'd better hurry up. While no one's looking too hard. People don't like it much when they do shit like this."

Foolish decisions - gross. "Fine," he said.

If it meant an easier route to them, it was fine.

He fit well in the darkness behind the stage, hiding from anyone who might ask despite the excuse. The less people who saw, the better. Manami's door itself was wide open. He leaned in, seeing them sitting in front of their mirror, staring at nothing but their own reflection - looking at the dead look on their face, he had a hard time believing they had ever smiled once in their entire life.

Edging through the side silently, he closed the door.

"You came," they said. "How nice."

"Quite," he answered, hands behind his back, wrapping the piano wire out with care. His footsteps were silent against the cloth strewn across the floor.

"I really was surprised when I saw you," they said, eyes on his reflection. It was doubtful they'd be quick enough to stop him - no chance they'd have the time to scream. "I was even more worried you wouldn't accept my invitation ... it's such a rare chance, you see."

"How so?" He paused behind them, looming with his face beyond the reach of the mirror.

Manami's eyes crinkled with laughter. That was his chance. His arms swung up, dropping the wire around their neck. He leaned over them as he began to pull, and - there was nothing.

"I've been wanting to meet you," he heard them say. Staring at their reflection, he saw them tap scissors against their lips. "I ... well, I shouldn't say I'm a fan. But I never expected they'd call someone like you out for this. It's quite an honor."

Midousuji pulled up the cut halves of his wire. Things - fell into place. Why there were no bodyguards. Why no other killers succeeded. Why they called him out. The smile on his face grew. "You're a monster, aren't you?"

They tittered. "That's rude!" Something slammed into his shins - their seat sliding back into him, as they spun around and knocked him over. He rolled out of the way, only quick enough to avoid their scissors tearing through his arm, instead embedding themselves in his trenchcoat. "When you're the person coming to kill someone, don't you think you're the monster of the situation?"

Wild eyes and a sharp smile that cut away any hint of sweetness their mask had otherwise - and they knew it - down to the bone. Not so gross as he'd thought.

An angel that knows what it is, fallen and blackened, was one of the purest things that could exist.

"Why do they want you dead?" he asked.

Manami swung their arms behind their back, stretching, not a weapon in sight. "Mmm... I don't know that I could tell you." And then they had a knife, in the time it took to blink. "Midousuji Akira likes blackmail, I've heard. You could still kill me, and use that information against my agency. No good at all."

"Not wrong," he said, circling around them. "Blackmail is the only way to get along in the world. So much so ... I could tell you who is out for your blood."

They watched him with a careful hum. "Why would I care about that?" He paused. Most people would give up anything for information. "As long as I can survive, the matter of who wants me dead doesn't matter."

Quite the devil, indeed - he didn't dislike that.

But they knew who he was. Either they'd agree, or he'd kill them. Manami's smile - perhaps they knew as well. Playing a game to see who'd win.