The glass slipper melts in a dark crimson glow.
She tends to her shurikens every day. Sharpening, cleaning, shining away the bloodstains that might have escaped a previous scrubbing. Mari Hanatsu was a professional - and a professional assassin could never kill with dull weapons. That was an insult to the targeted, and Mari considered herself to be a very honorable killer.
She spends most of her time on one shuriken in particular. The other seven throwing stars are named after the Seven Deadly Sins: Kouman, Donyoku, Shitto, Gekido, Nikuyoku, Boushoku, and Taida. While Mari is quite fond of them all, her greatest one - the one she received first, when she was very small - is her absolute favorite. Ai. Mari considers love to be the eighth and most deadly Sin, for who can fight something that creep invisible, intangible into your heart and turns your body into dust?
Love was Mari's greatest fear and weapon of choice.
This is the story of Cendrillon, an agent - a woman of barely nineteen - raised from birth to kill, and only to kill. Only her boss/godmother, Retsu, referred to her by a human name. Mari Hanatsu.
This is also the story of Byakuya Kuchiki, a prince - a man of almost nineteen - about to be named off to some faceless and nameless woman when he could hardly care less about the trivial processes of love and happiness.
These are two individuals that know nothing of love, had upbringings that ostracized the feeling of love and condemned it as a lesser emotion, one that should never be given even the slightest pause of thought.
But the first taste of something on one's tongue is the taste that lingers the longest.
"Cendrillon reporting for duty, ma'am!" Mari saluted smartly, facing the desk before her.
Retsu Unohana was referred to within the agency as the "Fairy Godmother," and for good reason. She was beautiful, calm, serene - and she could kill more efficiently than anyone else in the company. She could do magic with the katana she concealed within the folds of her Japanese hakama. The Fairy Godmother is perfection, finesse, the impossible innervated. There was no way she could ever lose a fight. There was no was she could ever die.
And Mari Hanatsu was easily her favorite person.
"There's no need to be so formal, Mari," Retsu said warmly. She nodded for Mari to sit down, and her adoptive daughter obeyed eagerly, her heels aching from constant time on her feet. "Have some tea. You've done brilliantly, better than I ever could have anticipated." Retsu smiled genuinely. "Now that Kenpachi has been dealt with, the Eleventh Squad has very little chance of reorganizing and causing us any more nuisance."
"It was actually pretty easy," Mari said, taking a sip of barley tea (brewed to perfection). "He was more preoccupied with his little girl. She didn't have the sense to stay out of the way."
"Yachiru Zaraki?" Retsu questioned. "She has been highly trained in the kendo arts. She could give even someone like me a hard time."
"She must have thought we were just playing." Mari shrugged as though discussing the murder of a four-year-old child were no big deal. "It didn't take long to get rid of them both. I was gone before anyone could raise an alarm."
Retsu raised her dark eyebrows, looking mildly surprised. "You managed to get a solitary audience with Lord Zaraki?"
Mari grinned. "Not a guard in sight."
Retsu didn't smile this time, but her eyes did hold a particular gleam of praise. "I knew that from the moment I discovered you that you would make a lovely agent. I'd say that your skills far surpass my own."
Mari blushed to her roots and busied herself in pouring out more tea. "I doubt that!" she stammered.
Retsu chuckled quietly. "You do have the day off, Mari. Was there any reason you came in? Other than to boast?" she added teasingly.
"I figured you would have another mission ready for me," answered Mari, taking a long draught of tea.
"So soon?" Retsu frowned slightly.
"I'm ready to go again, if you have anything available."
Retsu pondered this a moment, looking thoughtful. "If you're certain... I do have something lined up..."
Retsu Unohana was referred to within the agency as the "Fairy Godmother," and for good reason. She was beautiful, calm, serene - and she could kill more efficiently than anyone else in the company. She could do magic with the katana she concealed within the folds of her Japanese hakama. The Fairy Godmother is perfection, finesse, the impossible innervated. There was no way she could ever lose a fight. There was no was she could ever die.
And Mari Hanatsu was easily her favorite person.
"There's no need to be so formal, Mari," Retsu said warmly. She nodded for Mari to sit down, and her adoptive daughter obeyed eagerly, her heels aching from constant time on her feet. "Have some tea. You've done brilliantly, better than I ever could have anticipated." Retsu smiled genuinely. "Now that Kenpachi has been dealt with, the Eleventh Squad has very little chance of reorganizing and causing us any more nuisance."
"It was actually pretty easy," Mari said, taking a sip of barley tea (brewed to perfection). "He was more preoccupied with his little girl. She didn't have the sense to stay out of the way."
"Yachiru Zaraki?" Retsu questioned. "She has been highly trained in the kendo arts. She could give even someone like me a hard time."
"She must have thought we were just playing." Mari shrugged as though discussing the murder of a four-year-old child were no big deal. "It didn't take long to get rid of them both. I was gone before anyone could raise an alarm."
Retsu raised her dark eyebrows, looking mildly surprised. "You managed to get a solitary audience with Lord Zaraki?"
Mari grinned. "Not a guard in sight."
Retsu didn't smile this time, but her eyes did hold a particular gleam of praise. "I knew that from the moment I discovered you that you would make a lovely agent. I'd say that your skills far surpass my own."
Mari blushed to her roots and busied herself in pouring out more tea. "I doubt that!" she stammered.
Retsu chuckled quietly. "You do have the day off, Mari. Was there any reason you came in? Other than to boast?" she added teasingly.
"I figured you would have another mission ready for me," answered Mari, taking a long draught of tea.
"So soon?" Retsu frowned slightly.
"I'm ready to go again, if you have anything available."
Retsu pondered this a moment, looking thoughtful. "If you're certain... I do have something lined up..."
"There's no need in organizing any events, father." Byakuya Kuchiki's patience was trickling away very quickly, and he was finding it difficult to hold his tongue.
"There is much need," rumbled Ginrei Kuchiki. He also sounded irritated; given the length of their current argument, this was of little surprise.
Ginrei Kuchiki was the king of this country, and his son Byakuya was the up-and-coming young prince. He certainly looked the part; smooth porcelain skin, dark eyes, long black hair that fell like sable silk onto his shoulders, he was as beautiful as any woman. But he was also a great deal stronger than his graceful frame portrayed. So, as a king, he was perfect for the job.
If only the whole process weren't so boring.
"I have no interest in finding a wife at this time," Byakuya stated firmly. "I will be a competent enough ruler without one."
"And just how do you plan on bearing a son?" Ginrei asked him testily. "By plucking one out of the sky?"
Byakuya's eyebrow twitched dangerously, the only flaw in his calm and reserved facade. "I am still young, father. I won't require a successor for several years-"
"You speak of war as though it were a game," Ginrei growled. "No matter how young you may be, every step you take can be your last! Do you wish to die and take the Kuchiki name down with you? Allow the peasants and common people to take what our family has had for generation after generation?"
"No, father."
"Right. We'll be holding a ball tomorrow starting at sunset. Every young woman in the kingdom will be required to attend. I suggest you ready your best dress clothes, Byakuya. I'll not have my son show up to his own event garbed as a ruffian."
Byakuya was on the verge of belting out another argument - then, realizing how futile the gesture would be, he conceded with a simple "Yes, father."
"There is much need," rumbled Ginrei Kuchiki. He also sounded irritated; given the length of their current argument, this was of little surprise.
Ginrei Kuchiki was the king of this country, and his son Byakuya was the up-and-coming young prince. He certainly looked the part; smooth porcelain skin, dark eyes, long black hair that fell like sable silk onto his shoulders, he was as beautiful as any woman. But he was also a great deal stronger than his graceful frame portrayed. So, as a king, he was perfect for the job.
If only the whole process weren't so boring.
"I have no interest in finding a wife at this time," Byakuya stated firmly. "I will be a competent enough ruler without one."
"And just how do you plan on bearing a son?" Ginrei asked him testily. "By plucking one out of the sky?"
Byakuya's eyebrow twitched dangerously, the only flaw in his calm and reserved facade. "I am still young, father. I won't require a successor for several years-"
"You speak of war as though it were a game," Ginrei growled. "No matter how young you may be, every step you take can be your last! Do you wish to die and take the Kuchiki name down with you? Allow the peasants and common people to take what our family has had for generation after generation?"
"No, father."
"Right. We'll be holding a ball tomorrow starting at sunset. Every young woman in the kingdom will be required to attend. I suggest you ready your best dress clothes, Byakuya. I'll not have my son show up to his own event garbed as a ruffian."
Byakuya was on the verge of belting out another argument - then, realizing how futile the gesture would be, he conceded with a simple "Yes, father."
"Hey, Cendrillon!"
Mari glanced up at the sound of her name, the door to Retsu's office swinging to a shut behind her. One of Mari's fellow agents was leaning casually against a pillar on the far side of the room.
Her agent name was Iroha, but she preferred to use the name Kinkajou; she found it more exotic-sounding and wild. Like Mari, she was an assassin, but she also doubled as a spy, one of the best in the agency. She was fluent in sixteen different languages, and she had an undeniable... charm. She was particularly good at weaseling information out of her male targets.
Kinkajou hopped down from her perch, her cloud of chestnut hair bouncing against her shoulder. She had cut and curled it since Mari had seen her last, and the change was rather surprising.
"Morning, Iroha!" Mari called.
"It should be night," grumbled Kinkajou, dusting the seat of her jeans as she strode up. "I just finished my last gig six hours ago, and they're already shooting me off on another one. Ungrateful bastards. And what's with that Iroha crap? You're way too formal!"
"I only greeted you the same way you greeted me," Mari said pointedly.
Kinkajou jutted out her bottom lip. "But Cendrillon is so cool! Iroha sucks, it makes me sound like a little schoolgirl."
"You look like a little schoolgirl. And how is Cendrillon cool? It's like Cinderella."
Kinkajou grinned broadly at her. "That works out splendid! Now come on, Akita's waiting for us! We gotta get you ready!"
"Ready?" Mari blinked. "For what? And I thought Katara was off on a mission in Bengal?"
"She was, but she came back," Kinkajou said impatiently. "This is a high-class mission. Now come onnnnn! I wanna see Akitaaaaa!" She took Mari's hand and began to drag her rather forcefully down the hallway.
"Why don't you call her by her first name? And where are we going? Kinkajou!"
Mari glanced up at the sound of her name, the door to Retsu's office swinging to a shut behind her. One of Mari's fellow agents was leaning casually against a pillar on the far side of the room.
Her agent name was Iroha, but she preferred to use the name Kinkajou; she found it more exotic-sounding and wild. Like Mari, she was an assassin, but she also doubled as a spy, one of the best in the agency. She was fluent in sixteen different languages, and she had an undeniable... charm. She was particularly good at weaseling information out of her male targets.
Kinkajou hopped down from her perch, her cloud of chestnut hair bouncing against her shoulder. She had cut and curled it since Mari had seen her last, and the change was rather surprising.
"Morning, Iroha!" Mari called.
"It should be night," grumbled Kinkajou, dusting the seat of her jeans as she strode up. "I just finished my last gig six hours ago, and they're already shooting me off on another one. Ungrateful bastards. And what's with that Iroha crap? You're way too formal!"
"I only greeted you the same way you greeted me," Mari said pointedly.
Kinkajou jutted out her bottom lip. "But Cendrillon is so cool! Iroha sucks, it makes me sound like a little schoolgirl."
"You look like a little schoolgirl. And how is Cendrillon cool? It's like Cinderella."
Kinkajou grinned broadly at her. "That works out splendid! Now come on, Akita's waiting for us! We gotta get you ready!"
"Ready?" Mari blinked. "For what? And I thought Katara was off on a mission in Bengal?"
"She was, but she came back," Kinkajou said impatiently. "This is a high-class mission. Now come onnnnn! I wanna see Akitaaaaa!" She took Mari's hand and began to drag her rather forcefully down the hallway.
"Why don't you call her by her first name? And where are we going? Kinkajou!"
"I refuse," Byakuya said stiffly. He never realized how difficult it was to keep his gag reflex in check, but he was certainly having trouble with it now.
Yoruichi frowned slightly, returning her gaze to the sunflower-yellow kimono she held in her hands. Byakuya hated that strip of garment, from the stupid color to the stupid koi fish print adorning it. "Really?" she said, sounding disappointed. "I thought the yellow would bring out your complexion in such a lovely way."
If the poisonous look on Byakuya's face could kill, Yoruichi might have just keeled over backwards onto the floor. But she just grinned. "I'm just kidding, Little Byakuya. You're so uptight."
Byakuya remained stonily silent as his cousin stepped into his closet to find another garment that he would undoubtedly despise. The two certainly didn't look alike; Yoruichi's dark skin and deep purple hair and angular golden eyes gave her an exotic, catlike physique, while Byakuya seemed to more or less resemble a porcelain doll. They were related only by marriage; the Shihoin family had married into Byakuya's, though both were originally of noble blood. Yoruichi hardly acted noble. On the contrary, she was six years older than Byakuya and yet insisted on acting like a petulant child, or as Byakuya's older sister (as she preferred to put it). It was incredibly irritating.
"How about this one?" Yoruichi returned with another kimono. This one was a deep shade of royal blue, a much more acceptable color, and depicted several white cranes lifting off into the sky. But still...
Byakuya shook his head.
Yoruichi frowned, setting her hands on her hips. "You wouldn't allow me to dress you in anything modern, so I assumed that you'd like something more traditional. What's wrong with a kimono?"
Byakuya curled his lip in distaste. "I will not dress as a woman."
Yoruichi snorted. "Both men and women can wear kimonos, you fool."
"That is a dress."
"It's a silk robe, Byakuya. What are you wanting if not a kimono?"
"I would rather not go to this event altogether."
Yoruichi's exasperated expression softened a bit. "There's no need in being so obstinate. Look forward to it. You never know who you might meet."
Byakuya remained stony-faced. "I have no intention of getting married. My only desire is to lead my kingdom with the same strength as my father."
"And you can," Yoruichi said softly, though there was a teasing gleam in her angled eyes. "Going to a dance doesn't strip you of your masculinity. Just consider yourself the man of the hour."
When Byakuya still didn't respond, Yoruichi sighed heavily. "At any rate, you still need something to wear. Let's go back to that yellow one..."
Byakuya threw the nearest object her could reach - a crystal paperweight - at his cousin's head.
Yoruichi frowned slightly, returning her gaze to the sunflower-yellow kimono she held in her hands. Byakuya hated that strip of garment, from the stupid color to the stupid koi fish print adorning it. "Really?" she said, sounding disappointed. "I thought the yellow would bring out your complexion in such a lovely way."
If the poisonous look on Byakuya's face could kill, Yoruichi might have just keeled over backwards onto the floor. But she just grinned. "I'm just kidding, Little Byakuya. You're so uptight."
Byakuya remained stonily silent as his cousin stepped into his closet to find another garment that he would undoubtedly despise. The two certainly didn't look alike; Yoruichi's dark skin and deep purple hair and angular golden eyes gave her an exotic, catlike physique, while Byakuya seemed to more or less resemble a porcelain doll. They were related only by marriage; the Shihoin family had married into Byakuya's, though both were originally of noble blood. Yoruichi hardly acted noble. On the contrary, she was six years older than Byakuya and yet insisted on acting like a petulant child, or as Byakuya's older sister (as she preferred to put it). It was incredibly irritating.
"How about this one?" Yoruichi returned with another kimono. This one was a deep shade of royal blue, a much more acceptable color, and depicted several white cranes lifting off into the sky. But still...
Byakuya shook his head.
Yoruichi frowned, setting her hands on her hips. "You wouldn't allow me to dress you in anything modern, so I assumed that you'd like something more traditional. What's wrong with a kimono?"
Byakuya curled his lip in distaste. "I will not dress as a woman."
Yoruichi snorted. "Both men and women can wear kimonos, you fool."
"That is a dress."
"It's a silk robe, Byakuya. What are you wanting if not a kimono?"
"I would rather not go to this event altogether."
Yoruichi's exasperated expression softened a bit. "There's no need in being so obstinate. Look forward to it. You never know who you might meet."
Byakuya remained stony-faced. "I have no intention of getting married. My only desire is to lead my kingdom with the same strength as my father."
"And you can," Yoruichi said softly, though there was a teasing gleam in her angled eyes. "Going to a dance doesn't strip you of your masculinity. Just consider yourself the man of the hour."
When Byakuya still didn't respond, Yoruichi sighed heavily. "At any rate, you still need something to wear. Let's go back to that yellow one..."
Byakuya threw the nearest object her could reach - a crystal paperweight - at his cousin's head.