Menace Association Chapter: 5

The air hung heavy with the scent of ink and anticipation as Agatha, her brow furrowed in concentration, meticulously adjusted her position. Haruto's gaze, intense and unwavering, felt like a physical weight pressing down on her, a silent pressure that vibrated through her very being. She could almost feel the heat of his stare on her skin.

Finally, with a satisfied sigh that escaped her lips like a whispered secret, she declared, "Done!" The words hung in the air, a punctuation mark to the intense intimacy of the moment before she gracefully slid off Haruto's lap.

He rose, his movements fluid and confident, and checked his newly adorned skin in the mirror. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face as he examined the intricate design. "I know I can trust you, darling," he purred, the words laced with a potent blend of satisfaction and something darker, something possessive. His eyes gleamed with a primal satisfaction. The satisfaction was palpable, a tangible thing hanging in the air between them. Then, his voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the quiet intensity. "Haruki, it's your turn," he barked, the shift in tone abrupt and unexpected.

Haruki, his younger brother, approached with a hesitant grace, his eyes flitting nervously between Agatha and the gleaming needles. He settled onto the hydraulic chair, the smooth leather a stark contrast to the crisp lines of his uniform, which he shed with practiced ease. He lay back, his right hand casually tucked beneath his head, a picture of relaxed vulnerability. The position seemed to speak volumes about his trust in Agatha's skill and, perhaps, something more.

"You can sit on my lap, don't worry, he doesn't bite," Haruki murmured, a mischievous grin splitting his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He punctuated the sentence with a playful wink and a wiggle of his eyebrows, his smirk now undeniably lighthearted and teasing. The suggestion hung in the air, charged with a potent mixture of playful confidence and underlying tension, but the overall tone was undeniably lighter and more flirtatious than before. Agatha, a slight blush coloring her cheeks, chuckled softly before settling onto his lap, facing him. The closeness was immediate, a palpable shift in the energy of the room.

The sudden silence was broken only by the rhythmic click of the door as Haruto departed, his words echoing in the small space. "I'll be back, gonna buy some cigarettes," he announced before disappearing into the bustling street outside.

The two were left alone, the silence thick with unspoken words and the anticipation of the work ahead. Haruki's tattoo, a bold statement of self-expression, was already sketched, a vibrant design poised on the upper right of his chest while Haruto's a mirror image, resided on his counterpart's upper left.

Agatha, her hands steady and precise, picked up her tools. The sketch was complete, the design ready to be etched into flesh. With a practiced hand, she dipped the needle into the rich, dark ink, the metallic glint of the needle catching the light. The rhythmic tap of the needle against skin filled the silence, a hypnotic counterpoint to Haruki's drowsy gaze fixed on her, his eyes heavy-lidded but watchful. The air vibrated with the unspoken intimacy of the moment, a silent conversation woven into the very fabric of the tattoo itself.

"How are you feeling? It's kinda rude to leave us without a word, you know?" He suddenly spoke, breaking the silence between them. The man placed both hands on her thighs, giving them a gentle squeeze. "You should've woken me up, at least I could have walked you out," he added.

She flinched at his touch, that made her feel something else.

"My bad, I was in a hurry. I also have to work, and I have a lot of clients to deal with today," she responded, still focused on her work. She wiped the blood dripping from his chest "Don't worry, I'm completely fine."

He was about to grab her chin when Haruto suddenly opened the door.

"Not done yet?" The older Hasegawa asked that just came back from the shop as he sits on the couch man spreading while he lits a cigarette.

"It's almost done" Agatha responded, glancing at him.

"Oi Haru," Haruto tossed him a cigarette, and his brother caught it with his left hand.

He lit the cigarette, puffed it, and then exhaled the smoke right in Agatha's face, making her choke.

"What the fuck, you dimwit!" she complained about Haruto's younger brother's cocky behavior while coughing.

Haruki just chuckled, his lips forming a groan and arching his back slightly when she lightly caressed his v-line.

"Fuck, i'm gonna rail this woman here right now" he mumbled to himself.

"Alright it's done" Agatha exclaimed as she got off Haru's lap.

The male got up and fixed his uniform before putting on his trench coat again. He locked his eyes on her as she cleaned the tools she had used.

He was about to say something when suddenly his brother Haruto interrupted, walking towards her.

"Darling, I already sent the payment to your account" he told her.

"We have to go. The boss was calling for us," he added, glancing at her who was now smoking at the counter.

Agatha was leaning against her shop's entrance, watching the Hasegawa brothers get back into their car.

A McLaren P1 suddenly pulled up in front of Haruno and Haruto's car.

The car door swung open From within, a man emerged a blur of boysenberry mullet and lilac highlights, a figure seemingly sculpted from the same aggressive lines as the car itself.

Agatha squinted, remembering he was the guy with the scar on his left cheek.

The man locked eyes with her winked, as he yelled in distance. "I have your video"

"What?! What video?" Haruto exclaimed, lowering the windshield.

"Enjoy watching it," Agatha called out.

The man chuckled, a playful smirk on his face. "Nah, it's our little secret."

"Enjoy watching it," Agatha mouthed back, the man smirked and winked at the lady before going back inside of his car.

Haruto frowned as he waved goodbye at her before rolling up the window.

Agatha just laughed at herself and continued working in her shop.

It was only 5 pm, but the sky was already consumed by darkness, and a chilly wind began to blow.

She massaged her shoulders, exhausted from dealing with a bunch of clients all day. She decided to close up early.

As she walked towards their apartment, she felt like someone was watching her from a distance. A shiver ran down her spine as the cool wind brushed against her skin.

After walking for a few hours through the cold streets of Saitama, she finally reached their apartment door. She turned the knob, but it wasn't locked. That's when Agatha realized something was wrong.

She crept in through the back door, silently turning the knob to avoid attracting attention. Once inside, she surveyed her surroundings, lifting her skirt above her knee and pulling out the dagger attached to her thigh.

Agatha's POV

I gripped the dagger tightly, tiptoeing silently to avoid making any noise. "Akira, are you there?" I whispered.

"Fuck!" I cursed as someone grabbed my hair and dragged me towards the kitchen.

He positioned himself behind me, his other hand holding a knife against my neck. He used his free hand to cover my mouth, preventing me from screaming.

I swallowed hard as he pressed the blade deeper into my throat. I felt the blood trickling down my neck. He tilted my head back, and I shrieked as I felt his tongue glide across my shoulder.

Clenching my jaw in disgust, I stepped on his right foot, making him groan in pain. His grip loosened, and I seized the opportunity. I lifted my right hand and used my elbow to strike his jaw.

I grabbed the dagger from the floor and threw it at him, burying it in his forehead. I raised my foot and kicked him counterclockwise, sending him crashing to the floor, lifeless.

"Nasty motherfucker! How dare you stick your tongue on my skin! Ugh, I feel nauseous!"

A bloodcurdling scream from Akira tore through the silence. Agatha's heart leaped into her throat she was already sprinting upstairs as the adrenaline flooding her system. A brutal kick shattered the flimsy door, revealing a horrifying scene: her best friend lay unconscious on the floor, a man crouched over her, his hands tearing at her clothes.

Before she could even register the horror in a flash of movement, she was behind him in an instant, her fingers clamping down on his hair, yanking his head back as the kitchen knife flashed, a silver arc against the dim light.

The sickening wetness of his slashed throat, the warm spray of blood across Agatha's face it was a brutal, visceral baptism in violence. A cold fury gripped her, she clenched her jaw, knowing this wasn't the work of just a one man, but two and they're both intending to violate Akira and her.