"Next, the Three Rules of Engagement," Steve said, putting away his notepad and pen. "Rule one: No biting without my permission—especially not me. Rule two: We make money together, and once we're paid, I buy you the good stuff."
Hiaka reared up, his tongue flickering with excitement. "The good stuff? I want to see how those hamsters next door taste!"
This gluttonous snake...
Steve was slightly speechless, though he appreciated a fellow foodie. "Deal. I'll buy you whatever you want. As for the work... you follow my lead. Rule three: If you ever want to leave, you don't just vanish. You tell me first."
Hiaka shook his head vigorously. "Not leaving! I'm staying right here!"
"Fine. Let's go scout a location. It's time to get to work." Steve reached out to put Hiaka back in the carrying case.
Hiaka flicked his tail, wrapping it tightly around Steve's wrist. "Don't put me back in there. It's stuffy."
Steve provided a calm, clinical correction. "The optimal temperature for snakes is between 20 and 30 degrees Celsius. Anything over 35 leads to loss of appetite and illness. Human body temperature is over 35. If you stay on me too long, you'll get sick."
Luckily, Hiaka didn't have a foul odor, or Steve would have been tempted to crush him the moment he started climbing.
"I'm not afraid of the heat! Last time some kid tried to bake my glass cage with a lighter, I leaned right into it and didn't feel a thing!" Hiaka babbled, trying to prove his point by sliding further up Steve's sleeve.
Steve pressed down on the snake's head through the fabric. "Don't push it. You can stay on my wrist or neck, but don't go wandering. And don't nip me if you wake up cranky, and definitely don't strangle me."
"Rest easy! Never!" Hiaka poked his head out from the cuff, giving a solemn vow.
Steve stood up, picking up the discarded notes and the plastic case.
Hiaka nudged him. "We can leave the box, right?"
Steve said seriously, "Don't litter. Besides, I need to buy you some food. When did you last eat?"
Hiaka thought for a moment. "Three days ago."
Steve suddenly remembered something. "By the way, Hiaka. Today is Sunday. Do you know what day tomorrow is?"
Hiaka chirped, "Tomorrow is Friday, obviously!"
Steve: "..." (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻
The Pet Shop.
The clerk was surprised to see Steve return so quickly, but she managed a professional smile. "Decided on a hamster after all?"
Steve nodded, handing over the transparent case. "Three males, three females."
The case the snake-seller had given him was large; six hamsters would have plenty of room.
"O-oh, okay!" The wholesale nature of the request threw the girl off. "Do you want to pick them yourself?"
"No need. Your stock is high quality," Steve said, his eyes landing on the short-legged hamster from earlier. "Add that one to the list as well."
The clerk blinked. "Oh? But I thought..."
"I don't plan on keeping them long-term," Steve said flatly. "The others can exercise to keep the meat firm. This one? Don't force it to run. The higher fat-to-muscle ratio will make the texture softer. It's good to have a variety of flavors."
The clerk froze.
Meat firm... fat ratio... flavor...
"Are you... the Devil?" she whispered internally.
"Is there a problem?" Steve asked.
The clerk met those cold, violet eyes and then looked down at the snake poking its head out of his sleeve, staring at her with a flickering tongue. She shook her head frantically. "N-no! None!"
"Then be quick. I have things to do."
"Right away!"
A minute later, the clerk watched Steve walk away. She turned to look at the remaining hamsters in their cages. The little fluff-balls were munching on sunflower seeds, their tiny black eyes adorable. She had taken this job because she loved animals.
And she had just personally selected six of them for a death march.
Her phone rang. She answered it mechanically.
"Hello...?"
"Amy! It's me! Do you want to go shopping the day after tomorrow?"
"Huh?"
"Are you okay? You sound weird."
"Oh... it's nothing. Shopping... can we go tomorrow instead?"
"Don't you have work tomorrow?"
"I want to call in sick..."
"But I have class tomorrow! A new transfer student is joining my class—a really cute little girl! I can't miss it."
"I see..."
"Seriously, what is wrong with you?" her friend teased. "Did a handsome guy break your heart or something?"
A handsome guy?
The clerk thought of Steve's face—those indifferent, demonic eyes—and then at the snake. She felt a permanent psychological shadow forming. "No," she said earnestly. "I think in the future, I'll just look for a guy who looks average... but he must have a nice personality!"
Late Night.
A luxury villa was ablaze with light. A security detail with guard dogs patrolled the grounds, and a dozen burly men stood at the gates. Across the street in an abandoned lot, a silhouette sat perched in a tree.
"One, two, three, four, five... five high-end cars. Five distinct teams of bodyguards."
"Looks like the Inagawa-kai Tokyo executive board is having a meeting," Steve whispered. "What a stroke of..."
"Luck."
Steve glued a micro-transmitter to Hiaka's fang, adjusting it carefully. "Does that feel okay?"
Hiaka snapped his jaw shut. "Feels weird, but I can handle it!"
"Tough it out. If we're lucky, we finish tonight," Steve said. "You remember the target's face?"
"Of course!" Hiaka huffed. "It's just one human!"
Steve smiled faintly. "Go. Be careful not to swallow the bug. And don't let the dogs catch you."
Hiaka slithered down the tree, merging with the shadows. He slipped through the iron gates and vanished. Steve pulled out a receiver, plugged in his earpiece, and adjusted the frequency. Once the voices came through clearly, he hit 'record.'
"...Those guys seem to have their eyes on you lately."
"It can't be helped. Those high-tech parts are restricted for export, but I had a shortfall in the quarterly budget..."
"This crosses a line with the Feds. Sell the inventory as soon as possible."
"I've already made contact. The exchange is at the Rokugo Heavy Industries abandoned warehouse outside the city the day after tomorrow. Gorton, contact Councilman Wright. Tell him to lean on the higher-ups and keep the heat off us..."
"Don't you get it? There's a reason they're called the Political Police. I barely managed to get Wright on our side to begin with!"
The meeting lasted over an hour. Steve recorded everything: the names of the corrupt officials, the warehouse location, the exact time of the smuggling deal, and even off-hand mentions of two previous murders.
When the cars finally began to leave and the villa grew quiet, Hiaka slithered back across the street and up the tree.
"Well? Was it useless?"
"No. It was too useful," Steve said, staring at the receiver. He pulled on a pair of gloves and removed the memory card. "I'm thinking about asking the client for a bonus..."
Smuggling of restricted tech, a corrupt councilman, two researchers, locations, times... plus two murder confessions.
If I don't get a bonus, I'm getting ripped off.
Hiaka let out a sigh of relief. "As long as it worked. If it's good news, why don't you smile? I thought we'd missed the payday. Come on, give us a smile for encouragement..."
"Ha. Ha. Ha." Steve's voice was as flat as a dial tone. His face didn't move. "Open up. I'll take the bug off."
Hiaka rolled his eyes and opened his mouth. Once the transmitter was gone, he grumbled, "Don't lie to me. Was that a laugh? I've seen humans laugh. It doesn't look like that..."
Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, polished metal strip. He held it up to Hiaka like a mirror. "Fine. You show me a laugh."
"Hahahaha—!" Hiaka hissed for a bit, then stared at the reflection of his frozen, unmoving snake face.
He fell silent. Apparently, his laugh looked the same as his normal face too.
Satisfied that he'd sent the snake into an existential crisis, Steve packed his gear. "Let's go. We're heading to his office to pick up the files he mentioned."
"Wait, you're a human, you can't compare yourself to a snake!" Hiaka grumbled, following him down.
"You figured it out? Not bad." Steve moved through the shadows, systematically wiping his tracks as he went.
The Next Day. National Police Agency (PSB).
A young officer sitting at a computer froze. He carefully copied a set of files, stood up, and knocked on his superior's door.
"What is it?"
"Sir, regarding the capture of Kevin Nelms yesterday. I asked the Osaka Headquarters for the details."
"The bounty hunter, 'July'?" The middle-aged man behind the desk looked up from a stack of paperwork. "Good. We need a profile—age, appearance, anything. Did they send the report?"
There weren't many elite bounty hunters in Asia; most were in Europe. He'd assumed July was just someone looking for a quick payday, but catching a high-profile fugitive like Nelms in under twenty-four hours was impressive.
"Yes, sir. But... Osaka doesn't have a profile. They have no idea what he looks like or how old he is."
"Are they withholding information?" the superior, Chief Miller (no relation to the doctor), frowned.
"No. The information they did provide is quite... unique," the officer said, handing over a memory card. "I think you should see this for yourself."