Page 39 of Assassin Anonymous

I almost don’t say it.

Almost.

But the truth is, I don’t get to indulge in this very often.

“Mark,” I tell him. “But I go by the Pale Horse.”

Kenji’s body freezes. Then he drops to his knees, bows his head, and presents his katana to me.

“Jihiwokou,” he says.

Mercy.

“I did not know it was you,” he says.

Well, this is a little embarrassing, actually.

“C’mon, man, we’re good,” I tell him.

He looks up from where he’s kneeling, confused. My head just grew a few sizes. It’s hard not to feel a certain type of way about this.

But as good as I am, this guy nearly got the drop on me and I have to respect that, so I try to play it off a little and put him at ease. “Starting to wonder if we should find a place to wait inside or something. My fingers are going to break off when I start pulling the trigger.”

He gets to his feet and leads me to the other edge of the roof, where there’s an alcove better blocked from the wind. There’s a smattering of footprints in the snow. This is where he must have been waiting. Which is a little funny. I wonder how long the two of us have both been up here.

There’s a black sack on the ground. He reaches in and pulls out a small gel pack, cracks it, and tosses it to me. A hand warmer. I hold it between my palms and he takes out a thermos and offers it to me.

“Kanpai,” he says.

Steaming-hot green tea snakes through my body and immediately warms me. I hand it back to him and as a show of respect he doesn’t wipe the rim before he takes a long sip.

“My name is Kenji Sakai,” he says.

“Ah, family shit.”

Kenji nods as he puts the cap back on the thermos. “My brother. I do not agree with his decision. Selling weapons to these people. Money should not matter more than honor.”

“Money tends to get in the way of most things. But that probably means after this you don’t get to go home.”

“I’m not planning on it,” he says. “My brother’s life will be the last one I take.”

“Really?” I ask. “Getting out of the business?”

“I’m tired,” Kenji says, leaning against the wall, gazing into the distance. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Does it ever weigh on you? The accumulation of it?”

He doesn’t have to say what it is. I know what he means. I follow his gaze with my own, over the barren industrial area, like there’s some kind of answer written on the horizon. “It’s all math to me. I balance equations. Your brother, all those people who are going to show up here, they’re planning to do some bad things. We take them out, those bad things don’t happen. Overall, it’s a win.”

“And do you sleep at night?” he asks.

“Like a baby.”

Kenji gives me a little look that says he does not. “I believe that every time we kill,” he says, “we lose a part of ourselves, and gain a part of that person.” His eyes take on a soft haze of sadness. “I feel like I have lived a very long time, and I am ready to rest.”

“Geez, man, you’re not gonna off yourself when this is through, are you? We don’t really know each other, but I’m not sure that’s the answer…”