Bloodied Dahlias | Miya Osamu

[III] Fast Food Delivery

The elevator cried out a shrill ding to announce its arrival as it reached the 73rd floor of the high-rise, its silver metallic doors opening up to reveal an elevator lobby decorated with neatly tiled squares of polished white marble. The rows of lighting fixtures above illuminated the lobby in a harsh white glow; cool tones bathing over every surface in the room — a looming hostility to any onlooker unfamiliar with the inner workings of the building. Osamu stepped out of the elevator, turning over to his left as he strolled over to the end of the hallway.

In contrast to the skyscraper's exterior and the 72 floors preceding it, the elevator lobby of the 73rd floor was narrow and short. The elevator lobby stood at the center of the room, with six evenly spaced elevators lined up face-to-face in rows of two. The ends of the room could be reached from the elevator lobby in roughly 20 steps each, and unlike the marble-tiled walls to the sides of the corridor, was lined by two large glass doors bordered by strips of waxed mahogany wood.

Past the glass doors to the left of the elevator lobby, the flooring changed from the white and silver-streaked marble of the lobby to an obsidian black. The entrance seemed unguarded and defenseless from a brief glance, with only the occasional black and white-clad figure walking past, but Osamu knew better — armed guards stood just behind the walls adjacent to the door, ready to ambush any intruder who dared to break through. A simple panel was fixed onto the wooden panel of the wall — a biometric lock that could only be opened by the registered inhabitants of the fortress.

"I'll catch you later, Osamu," Akasgi said, tilting his head over to the other end of the elevator lobby. Unlike the quietly imposing atmosphere of the doors to the left, the right was comparably more relaxed. No biometric locks, no lingering threat of an ambush by guards hidden away. A single set of glass stairs descending to the lower floors could be seen from the outside, leading the way to the conference rooms that the 72nd floor housed. "Have to report to Konoha first."

"Since when were you such a goody two-shoes," Osamu chuckled, lightly waving goodbye to his companion as he continued walking over to his side of the building. Akasgi rolled his eyes, muttering incoherent curses under his breath as he turned back around and jogged over to Osamu to shove the brown paper bag into his arms.

"Since I'm not the right hand man of the Princess, that's why," he sarcastically answered, strolling back over to the other side with his hands shoved into his pockets. "Let me know if those choco pies are any good," he added on with a small wave as he pulled open the doors and descended down the staircase.

With a roll of his eyes and a slight shake of his head, Osamu turned back around to face the door before him with a pivot of his heel. For an organization such as Tsubasa, rank was everything: the importance of the chain of command was ingrained into each and every member — from the leaders at the top to the underlings at the very bottom. Akasgi's words, while playful, had carried along the weight of the burden of such hierarchical leadership. While the two had been friends of sorts and had, for the most part, treated one another as equals, Osamu's position had conferred to him far more freedom and autonomy than Akasgi's could ever offer.

The right hand man of the enigma referred to as the Princess — it was practically the fourth-most powerful role of the entire group as a whole, falling just underneath the head, his advisor, and the said person themselves. And like all advisory roles, while not the leader in name, he was placed into the unique position of being able to alter the currents of power through a single whisper of a suggestion into the ears of his boss.

Osamu looked down at the carefully folded paper bag in his arms and let out a light laugh, lifting a hand off of it to press his thumb against the biometric sensor at the door as he did so.