It was a morning in a Paris enveloped in spring, at seven o’ clock in the morning, when Alizee’s alarm went off, announcing the beginning of a new day. Getting up turned into a test of will, having to renounce to the warm of the sheets and Anne’s naked body, alongside with Colette’s, who was between the women, over the eiderdown. Once she was up, the swordswoman stretched and scratched her rear end before entering the bathroom to take a shower. The warm water completely woke her up, and, afterwards, she put on underwear and some clothes, consisting on a pair of flexible jeans, a red shirt, a light green jacket and her favourite and distinctive wool cap. Even when she wasn’t going to use her sword on someone, she always liked to wear clothes that allowed her to move freely, by sheer comfort and in case of an unexpected fight.

Once she was fully clothed, she made herself breakfast and ate it in the living room while reading Philip K. Dick’s “Ubik”, recommended by Anne. There where clothes on the floor and the table from yesterday, alongside the DVD box of “Kill Me Gently”, a recent movie from one of her favourite directors, in which a pair of assassins shared a love story while avoid being killed, exploring subjects like death, love and life.

She finished, went back to the dorm and kissed Anne in the cheek, moving her black hair from her face before.

- Au revoir.

The librarian complained from being disturbed and replied without moving her face from the pillow.

- Oui, au revoir. Que tu fais bien.

Alizee whistled and the dog abandoned the bed the same instant she heard it, jumping and moving her tail both sides in happiness, stopping when her owner put the leash on.

The morning sun warmed the streets of Paris while a gentle breeze moved through them. The swordswoman and her dog walked towards the Seine, stopping many times for the animal to sniff and do her necessities, with her owner patiently waiting. She had plenty of time left before the meeting.

After an hour she finally arrived at the place where the reunion was going to happen, the “Bateau Rouge”, a boat turned into a cafeteria that sailed through the river while its customers ate and passed the time. Before boarding she looked at the river, full of waste as always, with a plank of rotten wood floating around, and thinking how dirty people could end up being.

- C’est dégoûtant.

Aboard the ship, she saluted the other regulars, who greeted back at her, and Jean Pierre, the owner, a tall and athletic black man with short hair and thin lips, who brought a bowl with water for the dog, and a chocolate cake and whisky for the woman.

- Merci.

Half an hour later, the man she was waiting appeared, ten minutes late. He was Vito Giovanna, a Italian mobster from the United States, member of the Giovanna family. He was accompanied by three brutes, and wore a stereotypical brown suit, a rosary hanging from his neck, expensive black shoes, like the watch, and a disastrous aspect given by the jet lag.

“How unoriginal”

- Bonjour, Monsier Giovanna.

The man looked at my direction and walked towards me with his friends, sitting the four in the table, with Colette growling at them, having to be calmed by the woman.

- Hello, Miss…

- Alizee.

- Miss Alizee. We finally meet.

- Yes, but we’re here for business, so let’s skip the formalisms.

The assassin took a sip from her glass after finishing her words, looking at her client.

- You’re right, I want to finish this as soon as I can. We know you killed Don Giovanna.

Alizee took another drink without losing her calm. Unlike they thought, she already knew their intentions, and was prepared for them.

- I’m usually careful to avoid this kind of things, but everyone slips from time to time.

Giovanna made a grin of anger after hearing her response, like if she wasn’t aware of the situation, and pointed her with a gun under the table.

- You don’t understand what’s going on. You’re not going to fix that, you’re fucked and won’t leave this place alive.

The hired killer couldn’t hold a laugh while the man and his thugs looked at her astounded, not knowing what she found so funny.

- You’re so stupid. The only ones that are going to die are all of you.

Said Alizee after she could recompose herself and Jean Pierre and the other customers took out silenced weapons, pointing them at the mafiosos.

- What the fuck…?

One of the thugs spoke, terrified at how the tables had turned.

- This isn’t New York, Luigi.

The older men said to the Italians while holding a silenced MAC-10 submachine gun. He was Bruce, a sixty-year-old ex-American soldier, expert sniper and one of the two Birdwatchers. His partner, Maurice, a physics professor and lone father, was at the other side of their table and had a handgun in his hands.

- This happens because you’re fucking idiots. This is the base of operations and hangout of some of the best killers in Europe.

Alizee spoke while abandoning her seat.

- Jean Pierre, s’il te plait.

The owner of the cafeteria and boss of the assassins threw a sheathed katana at the woman, who grabbed it mid air and unsheathed it, pointing it to Vito.

- Unlike some of my colleagues I’m terrible with fire weapons, with I’m pretty good with knives and swords. You might have heard that they aren’t as pleasant has getting shot at.

The mobster clenched his teeth and began sweating, specially through his hands.

- You motherless…

Before he could finish Alizee stabbed him in the throat and the others got received a few precise shots that ended their life’s quickly. Vito had a few seconds of life remaining while the cold steel traversed his body, grabbing the sword with one hand and trying to reach the swordswoman with the other, until he finally died, and both fell lifeless.

- Problème résolu.

She then pulled the sword and started cleaning it. When she finished and examined the blade, looking at her reflection, when Jean Pierre gave her a mop.

- Tu connaissez déjà les règles, si c’est ta faute, nettoyez.

She took the mop and began to clean her mess, with Colette by her side, who got scared by the sound of the gunshots. The man for whom she worked grabbed the phone to call the clean-up crew, hoping that no bullet had pierced the wall and it wouldn’t be too expensive. Not much after making the call, the phone rang, with Jean Pierre answering to it.

- Bonjour, this is the “Bateau Rouge”. How may I help you?

After hearing the answer, he turned to Alizee and gave her the phone.

- C’est pour toi.

The swordswoman left the mop against a wall and took the phone to his ear.

- Allô?

- Konnichiwa, Sakura.

Alizee stood there, still, until she touched her right arm. She hadn’t heard that voice for years, and she would had liked if it had stayed that way.