Before the Battle

Enemies and Friends 7/8

~~~TAIRA~~~

Who is he? What's he up to?

There was no time to assess the situation or see if there was any way out of this mess.

My attacker stuttered and pushed me towards the kitchen, where the regular sounds of a knife cutting vegetables could be heard.

The pungent smell of the onions Shira was chopping hit my nose as we entered the kitchen and my eyes watered slightly.

"Tai...?" He turned as soon as he heard footsteps.

I felt the man tense up, his hand with the gun moving as if to aim at Shira.

Was he going to shoot him and use me as a human shield?

I had to stop that at all costs.

But I didn't have time to do anything. 

Neither I nor the attacker.

The former imperial assassin hesitated for barely a fraction of a second, not giving the man a chance to move.

A single movement of his hand, swift and precise, and a feat unimaginable to most mortals.

The steel kitchen knife Shira had used to slice onions flew past, piercing the attacker's wrist. The gun, which the man couldn't hold any longer, fell to the floor with a thud.

I instinctively stepped aside as his grip loosened.

I couldn't remember if he had screamed or moved.

The second flying blade had killed him.

He collapsed on the floor, the handle of another kitchen knife sticking out of his eye. 

I watched, stunned, as a red puddle formed around his head and stained my kitchen floor. As a soldier, I had seen many slaughters during the war and had become accustomed to the sight of blood and death, but to see someone die right next to my dining room table was a little too much even for me.

With an ice-cold expression of concentration, Shira grabbed my hand and with a quick movement pulled me to him behind the kitchen counter.

"Is he alone?"

"I don't know."

My voice trembled a little, even as I tried to calm my wildly pounding heart.

Unlike me, Shira seemed calm and composed. As always, he managed to keep his cool even in the most stressful situations. Although I knew how good he was, I couldn't help but admire how quickly he reacted without the slightest hesitation.

It all happened so fast that I didn't even have time to think about what would have happened if his knife trick hadn't worked.

And then my eyes fell on his right hand. The one that had so accurately and confidently hit the attacker holding the gun next to my head.

It was shaking.

"Wait here," he handed me the gun that lay beside the dead body, and before I could protest, he disappeared into the other room.

I stared at the dead man. It was not a pleasant sight. His face was smeared with blood, almost nothing left of his right eye, the entire blade of the knife buried deep inside his head. The knife I used to cut bread with.

He could have been in his forties, just a guy you'd meet on the street. What struck me was his right hand. His forearm was bandaged up to the wrist.

Shira returned a few minutes later, this time armed, the gun tucked into the back of his jeans belt.