4 Mawla

"Okay, Mom! I'm going out!"

"Sure. I take it then you're going to come late again?" she asks.

I shrug. "What can I say, I've grown to like this."

She looks up from her laptop and shoots me a smirk. "If I'd known this would get you out of the house more often, I should've signed you up for a gym years ago."

I mock-shudder as I finish tying my shoes. "And make me talk to more people? No thanks."

"Oh, grow up. Being social isn't a bad thing. Helps you stay level-headed and prevents you from becoming one of those NEETs." I inwardly cringe at the mental image that pops up. Yeah, being a fat, smelly adult stuck at home all the time doesn't seem very appealing. The fat and smelly part, not the staying-at-home part.

Hypocritical, I know.

"But still, when you asked me to sign you up, I was a little surprised. Is it a girl at school? Or did eating so much ice-cream over the years finally catch up on you?"

I rise up and give her my best 'I am not amused' look. "In order: no, I'm not that lucky and two, my ice-cream has nothing to do with this."

She keeps smirking. What? It's true!

My mother's grin then shrinks down to a smile. "Heh, whatever you say. I have to ask though, why Hosu? I know that there aren't any gyms in the neighborhood, but why not pick something a little closer to home?"

Luckily, I prepared an answer. "I heard good things about it from the other kids. Besides, Hosu's not that far." Both of those were true.

She raises an eyebrow. "Using your Quirk in public, mister?" She wags her finger. "Tut-tut. Didn't I teach you not to eavesdrop?"

"What makes you think I used my Quirk?"

"One, I'm your mother, and I know that you would never start talking to other kids unless you really needed something. Two, you said a moment ago: 'And make me talk to more people? No thanks.'"

I grumble and she leans back, triumphant. Damn lawyer skills. Her Quirk just made them worse.

"Do you have everything? Water, a towel, earphones?"

I lift up my new gym bag. "Yeah."

"Good boy. Have fun!"

I sling the bag over my shoulder, wave to her, and head out the door. The air was nice and warm, despite it being the middle of September. The leaves were starting to turn brown and the coats would soon be worn by everyone. The noise of the masses thrummed distantly in the background, providing a little bit of 'urban atmosphere', as I call it. All in all, a pleasant day.

Unfortunately, the one squad car in the distance kind of ruined the image.

I try not to swallow as I pass the alley. Just as I suspected, it didn't take long for the police to find the thug's body. It was a mess when they first came; yellow tape, forensics teams, and a whole lot of officers swarmed the neighborhood. I think there might've been a Hero involved, but I wasn't sure. Eventually though, they all left, with one car coming in every couple of days to check the site. For a few days, I was nervous as hell. I took the knife with me when I left the alley, but I thought for sure that I left a footprint or two, maybe even a hair. But the police never came knocking, not even for a standard questioning.

I haven't confirmed it yet, but I'd bet my ice-cream allowance that my new teacher had something to do with that.

I keep a cool façade as I pass the car and head to the train station. The officers don't look to be saying anything important. Oh well.

A train ride later and I arrive in Hosu. I head down the busy street, making sure there are no sudden vehicles or anything of the sort. After walking some more, passing by the various on-goers, I soon stand in front of the alleyway. I take a few steps forward so I'm standing in the shadows, take a deep breath…and let the image of the Valley enter my mind.

Funny thing about Concealment. Once you start using it frequently (and boy, did I use it frequently – whether by own volition or not), you start to feel a sort of disconnect from the world around you

'Ah, sobh bekheir, contractor. Art thou ready to begin today's training?' Hassan's voice greets me.

'Ready as I'll ever be.'

' Very well. Proceed to the amunsh chamber, and we will begin.'

That means 'training chamber' in Persian. Whenever he didn't use that antique way of speech, he used his native tongue of Persian. I thought it was Arabic once – when I asked him if it was, the training routine that day was agonizing.

I take a step forward and-

"AAHH!" Not again! I slap my head in pain. What was that for!?

' Just a reminder.'

I grumble in protest but nonetheless tread onwards to the basement -er, training chamber.

' Thou art progressing nicely in the art of Concealment. Thine gait is no longer like that of a floundering fish.'

A compliment. That was rare.

' Now thou walk like a stork.'

Aaand it's gone.

' Thou are not even close to impressing me, contractor. I have had far more prodigal students than thyself.'

'I just started this! You don't exactly expect me to master everything the moment I learn it…right?'

' No, I suppose not. You are not fida'i. Now, focus or receive another reminder.'

I shake my head and strengthen my Concealment. Luckily, another reminder didn't come. After a few twists and turns, I stand in front of the familiar rusty door. I open it – this time without ramming it – and head down the stairs, making sure to close the door behind me. Once I arrive at the bottom, I take a deep breath and put on the mask. The room becomes visible to me once more, everything outlined in blue or green. Everything was pushed to the side or stacked in piles, leaving the floor bare.

Hassan manifested before me, all clad in black.

' Let us begin. Step forward.'

I did so and a circle of blue light appeared around me. He gestures to me and I speak.

"This circle is my world. Nothing exists outside of it. Everything I do must be done in the circle."

He nods. Wispy blue lines appear in front of me and throughout the circle, crisscrossing like spider webs. If anyone else could see them, they would assume that they were like security lasers. They would be wrong.

"Let us begin. Ten circuits should be a good start."

And so begins another day of training, starting off with the most unusual parkour set in the world. I leap up, down, under and over the lines. Most times, they become solid like ropes, but some of them fizzle like air. More often than not I trip and fall, causing me to lose my Concealment and get another jolt of pain in my head. I get up, refocus and keep going. Every now and then, the positions of the lines change, so I'm forced to improvise or trip again. Round and round I go, not even managing a full circuit without falling. All the while Hassan looks at me, motionless.

After the fifteenth circuit, he tells me to stop.

I hunch over and lean on my knees as the lines disappear. I pant like a dog as I try and steady my breath. "Damn…this…is…getting…annoying."

"I care not. Regain thy breath and perform the stretching exercises I have taught thee. We will move on to another set."

I try very hard not to grumble as I try and wipe the sweat from my forehead, only to feel cold bone. Right.

"Uh, sensei?"

One of the wraith's eyes dims. Looking back, I would realize that he was raising an eyebrow. "If thou must refer to me by a title, then refer to me as 'Mawla' – the equivalent of your 'sensei'. It is what the Order referred to me as, and so thou shalt as well."

I bite my lip, holding in the question of why he didn't say that before. I did not want to make this even more painful than it was. "Okay…Mawla," the Persian word rolls roughly off my tongue. "Why aren't we doing this outside? I'm supposed to parkour on buildings, so wouldn't it be better to practice on buildings?"

"Thou art not ready yet to practice on structures. Here, thou need to grasp the basics of the art before moving to the field. In addition, the risk of injury is greater out there than in this amnush chamber, especially if thou fall."

I nod. "Okay, good point." Falling from a building wasn't something a few hidden bandages could cover. "I should remember to start looking up first-aid techniques."

"Indeed. Now, again." The lines appeared again.

After two more circuit sets, he makes me do sets of modern exercises, like push-ups and sit-ups. Not that me being more familiar with them helped me – in fact, the pain felt even worse. P.E at school had nothing on this. At least I didn't have to use Concealment this time.

I lie down panting after a particularly burning set. Is there something here that adds to the pain or am I really that out of shape!?

"No, I am simply a good instructor."

"Not helping!" I hiss.

"I believe otherwise. Rest for a few more moments, then strip."

I freeze. "What?"

"I thought I spoke clearly. Strip to thy undergarments."

I look up at him with a twitch and take a deep breath. "…why?"

"For higher difficulty. If thou keep properly exercising, the cold shall not bother thee."

"…I am seriously starting to doubt your methods."

"Thou will not always have the comfort of full clothing or armor to aid thee. It may become damaged and leave you vulnerable. In the end, it is up to thee to finish the mission, regardless of the state of thy clothing."

…he had a point. Damn him and his perfectly logical explanations! Still, shouldn't there be something wrong with this?

"I do not recall thee training an order of Assassins that lasted centuries after thy death because of thy teachings."

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. Did he just…did the cold, emotionless wraith of Hassan-I Sabbah crack a joke!?

He tapped his cane - that appeared from nowhere – on the ground and a burst of darkness flooded the hall, sending chills down my spine.

"I did not tell thee to dawdle."

I gulp and quickly nod. I quickly strip down, leaving everything on but my boxers and shoes. I shiver as I start to feel the cold air prickle my skin. Not caring about my discomfort, Hassan taps his cane and lines appear once more.

"Begin. Three sets of ten."

Oh, how I was mistaken to think that the circuits before were painful. These ones, with me running around nearly naked? This was borderline torture. The cold from the air and the floor – as a result of my continuous falls of course – made it even more difficult to maintain Concealment. The pains in my head that followed did nothing to numb the cold. If this was a P.E class or some fitness routine, like the ones they show in gyms, I would've quit a long time ago. But despite the pain, I didn't quit.

"Hmm. I must confess, contractor, I expected thee to give up by the third circuit."

"What…can I…say…" I reply, panting as I lean on a wall. "I can be…very…stubborn." I try to wipe my forehead again before swearing; again with the mask!

"I can see that. It means I will just have to make sure thou art extra diligent in thy training."

I half-heartedly grumble.

"Contractor, if thou permit me, this wraith has a question to ask thee."

I blink. This was strange; asking me for permission? "Um…sure, Mawla. What is the question?"

"Before we left thy house today, I glimpsed a thought in thy mind. What exactly is thy matriarch's ability? Is it like thine, with enhanced hearing?"

Mom's power? Why would he want to – oh, wait. Of course.

"Well, sort of. She calls it "Selective Hearing". Basically, she can focus on a person and hear whatever they do, like their heartbeat or blood flow. The range isn't very big, but it really helps with her job."

"She is a lawspeaker, no?" Hassan asked and rubbed the bottom of his mask. "Yes, such an ability is very useful when it comes to discerning truth. But thou see where my concern lies, right?"

I nod. "Yeah, but don't worry. I've got it covered; she won't find out about us."

"How so?"

I let myself smirk a little. "I've lived with her long enough to learn how to avoid her little lie detector. As long as what I'm telling has a measure of truth in it, she won't know the difference. Like, you know that I really am going to the gym, just not as frequently as she thinks."

"I see, I see. A half-truth then?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Hmm. Very well. I shall dwell on this later, but for now, retrieve the knife."

I grin and I pull the knife out of the bag. I've been wondering when I would get to practice with this.

"Calm thy enthusiasm, contractor. A knife is not a toy; it is a weapon, a tool of death. Thou must treat it with respect and listen attentively to my teachings, lest I force thee to run more circuits in the cold."

I feel the grin leave my face. I have had enough laps for today, please!

"Good, thou art paying attention. Now, hear my words." Hassan's eyes flashed and his voice rose in volume.

"A knife is the ideal weapon for any mission of stealth. It is easily concealed, can be as light as a ball of cloth, and can fell any foe in one strike. Even if thou art not an Assassin, a good knife or dagger is always useful. My people always carried one, regardless of the circumstance."

I nod, thinking of the equipment of various Muslim soldiers from that time, having seen many of them in the World Collection. No matter to what side they belonged to, they usually all carried some small blade.

"But any common man can swing a knife like a savage; a true warrior wields it as an extension of his arm, striking fast and true, like the scorpion and his poisonous tail. He does not strike at the first thing he sees; he finds the weakest point on the body, a gap in the armor, any point that can be used to his advantage, and only then -"

He is suddenly in front of me, my knife in his hand and poised under my chin.

"He goes for the kill."

"WHA!" I leap backwards, clutching my throat. My eyes widen. When did he – when did he move!?

"Hmm. It seems we shall have to work on thy reaction time as well. If any of my weaker students were here, they would have killed thee before thou could blink." He flips the knife and holds it out, holding the blade itself. I rub my throat and look at him, the fear not fading from my gut. Heh, guess he's not the founder of the Assassins for nothing. Before I take a step forward though, I decide to try something. I raise my arm and focus on the knife, clearing my head of any stray thoughts. A few seconds later, the weapon starts to vibrate in Hassan's hand. I slightly bring my fingers together, trying to rip it out of his arm, but then he lets go and it flies into my hand.

"Very good," he nods. "It seems as though thou have started to study by thyself. Commendable. Perhaps there is hope for thee yet."

I ignore the pseudo-insult and ready myself, bending my knees and settled into what I thought was a combat stance.

"But it seems like thou still have a ways to go."

Ouch.

-x-

'Seriously, I'm eating right now. Can't this wait?'

" No."

I grumble again but then bite down my lips as another zap fries my brain. I almost rub my forehead but back down at the last second. I really don't want to spoil my appetite.

But the yakitori seemed like an afterthought in my mouth as the cacophony of voices echoes in my head. Way to ruin a good meal.

" If thou do not cease thy whining, thy 'good meal' will end up on the floor. I do not think I need to tell thee how useful thy ability is for our profession."

'Obviously,' I roll my eyes. 'But while I'm eating? Can't we just go to a mall or a park, like last time?'

" It is called multitasking, and this is just the barest example of what it can entail. And before thou ask, I do not want thou to rely on Concealment too much. Being another random face in the crowd can sometimes be a better cloak than invisibility."

I swallow the chicken and cringe at the words coming out of the gaggle of teenage girls in one of the booths. Is grading the hotness of boys hard-wired into the female species' genetic code? True, boys did it too, but the girls were just so…loud.

'Fair point. But since when knowing what makeup some random girl uses is useful information!?'

" At this specific case? It isn't. Most of the information you hear is useless and inane. The key is to sort out what you can use."

A sigh escapes my lips as I keep listening. Yeah, everything I've heard up until now was useless, including the previous times I did this little exercise. I didn't expect to get lucky, but the banality of people really seems to get me. And Mom wonders why I'm such a loner.

A few minutes later, I walk out of the restaurant with a full stomach, dry mouth, and lighter wallet. I start heading back to the training room while letting my gaze roam across Hosu. People rushing about, cars speeding by…even on a weekend, things never calmed down. I kick a piece of gravel away and scratch my head. Well, no use delaying it. Wonder what Hassan - erm, Mawla – has in store for me this time. I really hope it's not more of that circle. My legs are still sore from all the jumping –

BOOM!

I sharply look up and see that there is smoke coming out of one of the buildings, two floors above ground level. Me and my big mental mouth.

A series of blasts echoed from the new hole in the glass tower as bits of debris were sent flying outside. A crowd started to gather in front of the area, and I started to hear police sirens in the distance. I rush over to the crowd in no time. Like the others around me, I pull out my phone and activate the camera, but not necessarily for pictures. Unfortunately, the zoom function doesn't help me see what is going on. I still snap a few photos though, just in case.

The screeching of tires draws my attention to the sight of several police cars lined up in front of the crowd as officers stepped out. Huh, that was fast. Did they know about this beforehand?

Only one way to find out.

I run around the crowd, dodging any newcomers, and approach the nearest cab. I stop and stand behind someone close enough to an officer, who started barking into his walkie-talkie. I turn on my Quirk and hiss at the sheer level of noise. God, my ears feel like they're bleeding!

Still, I take a deep breath and hone in on the cop.

"-I repeat, we have a potential hostage situation up here! The Yakuza just started shooting everything in sight! Yes, I know that there are officers up there, but it's starting to become a bloodbath! Manual is on his way? Great, great. Five more squad cars should be here, so prepare the-"

I quickly turn my Quirk off and rub my ears. Damn, that hurts. I roll the information around in my head. A hostage situation, probably a Villain or two, Pro Hero Manual is coming. Yakuza. Organized crime. I'm surprised they're still around, what with all the Villains. Still, there's a situation here. What can I do with this? I can't take on those guys, not right now. I really should leave, or maybe stay and watch, see the Pro Hero in action. It might be useful intel for the future.

'But what if there's a better way?'

I try to ignore that little voice, but the more I keep staring at the giant hole, the more I realize that I don't have much time.

I shake my head in dismay. Well, didn't I already call myself insane when I started this whole thing?

I open my bag and discreetly pull out the mask. Once I make sure no-one is looking, I slip it on and let the Concealment flow over me. Time for the moment of truth.

I close my bag and wiggle until I'm right in front of the officer, who was trying to calm some people down. I hold in my nerves and walk right past him. He didn't even glance in my direction.

I let a grin slip on my masked face and rush through the open doors.

"I take it thou have a plan?" asks Hassan.

'Well, you are the one who told me just now that most of the time whatever I overhear is useless.' I reply, opening the stairway doors and starting to climb. 'So I figure, why not just ask someone directly?'

" Hmm, indeed. What dost thou plan on asking and how?"

'Wait and see, Mawla.' Normally, I would've gotten a sting in my head for that comment. I hope my luck holds out.

By the time I enter the second floor, the explosion noises started to lessen. I rush through the floor, following the yells. I soon arrive at the battle scene – and it was more or less what I expected.

On one side, there was a group of officers holding firearms, hiding behind some desks formed into makeshift barricades. One of them took deep breaths every time he spoke, so he was most likely injured. On another side, namely, the one close to me, a number of people dressed like the thug I killed held firearms of their own, aimed at the officers. The one who seemed to be their leader wore what looked like a modernized plague mask with a broad-brimmed hat.

I couldn't help but shiver. There was something off about him.

"Well, this seems like a fine mess we got ourselves into, isn't it boys?" he asked. His men – five of them – responded by either a grunt or a nod. "Nevertheless, I cannot fail Leader. And if I fail, you fail. Which is why you should brace yourselves."

He pulled out a small, black sphere. I feel my eyes widen. Was he really going to…?

"A shame this is not incendiary, but we will have to make do. You two and I will rush over there and push back the cops while you two leave from there." He pointed to the door next to me. "We will meet downstairs in the basement. Our pickup should be there."

I pull back and press myself against the wall, quickly pulling out my knife. I was still doubting if this would work, but it was now or never!

One resounding explosion later, I hear two sets of feet rapidly approaching me. I let the first one pass me, but then I grab the second one by his arm and throw him down on the ground next to me. He was lighter than I thought, but maybe he didn't have time to resist. Before he can yell, I cover his mouth and press the knife to his neck, just enough to draw a drop of blood. He quickly freezes.

Smoke starts pouring out of the doorway. This should give me some time.

"Now, here is what's going to happen. I'm going to remove my hand, and you will stay quiet unless I tell you to talk. If you scream or lie to me, I'll slice your neck open. Understand?"

Cool, a voice mask. Sounds intimidating too.

The man nods and I remove my hand. "Good. Now, who are you and who are your friends?"

The man gulped, his eyes darting to and fro. "W-we're Shie Hassaikai."

The name is unfamiliar to me but I have a good guess on what it is. "Yakuza? What are you doing here?"

"O-our boss wanted us to shoot up this p-place. He said he needed something."

"What did he need?"

"I don't know." I press the knife further. "I don't know! He said that if we ask any questions he'll kill us!"

I pull the knife back slightly. Whoever their boss is (or bosses), he sounded competent. Ah, nobody said this was gonna be easy.

"Is there any place where your kind meets up? Any contacts?"

He smacks his lip, his frightened stare starting to narrow, but a further press of the knife gets him cuts the attitude. "N-Nine Rings! It's a bar! A lot of the guys like drinking there! I don't know anything else!" he sobbed.

Nine Rings. A name to remember.

"Um…can you let me go?"

I look down at the thug. His spiky hair was sweaty and matted, and his skin had gone pallor. The pleading expression he wore, combined with his pathetic state caused a pang of pity in my chest.

But that was it.

"How long have you been working with the Yakuza?"

He blinks. "Uh, two years."

"Did you do things like this before?"

"A couple of times," replied the man, looking confused.

"Did you kill anyone?"

The man clammed down and looked to the side. I press the knife again, making him gasp.

"Did you kill anyone!?" I yell.

"Y-yes!"

"Were you forced to?"

He clammed up again, but I knew what the answer was. It was written as plain as day on his face.

I grit my teeth. "Thought so. Tell me, did you ever think about the lives you took?"

He slowly shook his head.

"Then you brought this on yourself. The evening bell has tolled thy name."

I drop my Concealment and raise my knife. His eyes widen in shock and he starts to mutter: "Sh-Shiniga-"

I plunge the blade into his throat and pull it to the side, tearing open his throat. He starts choking like a fish out of water, but a few seconds later, he falls still.

I reactivate the Concealment and stand back up, staring at the bleeding corpse. I killed someone again. This time, he was at my mercy. I chose to kill him.

But he deserved it. This was what I wanted, right?

And what did I say at the end?

I shook my head. I had to get out of here. No use dwelling on it.

I rush down the stairs and out of the building. This time, I see a fire truck, and standing next to it was Manual, escorting people away. I dodge the cops and run in the direction of the training room. A few minutes later, I lean on the wall of one of the alleyways. I take deep breaths, in and out.

Wow. That was…exciting, to put it mildly.

" I concur. It seems that some of my regimen is showing results."

I let out a chuckle. 'Sure looks like it.'

" I will make sure then that the rest of the training is just as productive. But that can wait until next time. Right now, thou possess an important source of information. What do you intend to do with it?"

That was a good question. 'I don't think I can actually do anything with it right now, Mawla. I don't feel ready enough.'

" Thou will never be 'ready enough' but thy point is true. Hold on to that information for now and research it. When thy training has progressed to my liking, we will scout this tavern."

Tavern? I hold back another chuckle. But this was good. Now that I know a good spot for intel, I could begin my self-imposed mission. I'd be lying to say that I wasn't excited.

And I did something good today. I killed someone the world would be better off without.

I only hope that more join him when I really start this.

My phone then suddenly rings, cutting my train of thought. I look at the number and sigh. Just for today at least, Mom's incoming rant is something that the world (especially me) could do without.

-x-

Ritsu Ogawa (Assassin - Hassan-i Sabbah)

Stats: Too human to be measured.

Skills:

Presence Concealment D: The ability to hide from others. A poor level for any Assassin, but against ordinary criminals it works well.

Throwing (Dagger) B and Throwing (Retrieval) B: The expertise for throwing projectile weapons; in this case, daggers. His daggers have the same destructive power as firearms when thrown, typically spelling certain death for human targets. He can retrieve them to his hand with but a mere gesture

Information Erasure D: Erases all traces of the user's identity, physical or digital, after leaving a scene of assassination. It does not hide the user's identity in any other situation, and clues can be pieced together to deduce identity. If the user's identity is discovered, then the effects of the skill vanish.

Noble Phantasm: ?