A Simple Mission (A look into Akali's Characterization)

This mission would be simple.

Akali looked upwards, perched upon one of the higher branches of a tree. Her dark green clothing camoflauged her with the forestry, and from this vantage point, she had seen her target flit past her as per his routine. He was right on time for his training session.

The Fist of Shadow had given him two minutes as a reprieve, since his training session would last for one hour and fifteen minutes before he would take a break. Akali had known him for a few years now, she had trained with him and helped some of his techniques.

But, on the other hand, she trained with every member of the Kinkou. It was her responsibility as the Fist of Shadow. If anyone, even of their own order, were judged and deemed for death, they would have to be executed by her hand. The ninja, Soji, was right handed, dropped his shoulder a little too heavily when he slashed at one's belly, and it would be then that her kama would be able to cut into his flank. After hooking the blade into him, it would be a simple matter of whether he continued resisting, or accepted death and allow her second kama to slit his throat.

No matter how many times she had attempted to correct this fatal flaw of his, and how many times he apologized for not fixing it, he still did it.

This mission would be simple.

It was unfortunate, to say the least, that one of their members had been branded a traitor. And of course, the thought that he could be innocent would rise up in her mind, but Akali always pushed it back down. Shen's judgement was absolute. He did not err, Kennen did not err, they were guided and Soji was labeled a traitor, a Kinkou turned to Order of Shadow member.

This mission would be simple.

Akali repositioned herself on the thin tree limb, then took off in a sprint. Each step was a bound, a jump, carrying her from tree to tree, making her resemble a green blur. It would take her four minutes and thirty seven seconds to reach her target.

Akali knew the entire lay of this land, she knew that if he resisted, or if he tried to flee, that his left knee was weaker than his right and would be easier to break. That is, accounting for the fact that he could even hear her approach.

Akali was sculpted to be executioner from birth. This was what her duty was, this was who she was. For every time she heard a word of praise, her mother gave her ten words of criticism. For every time she wanted to weep, her mother made sure she was strong. For every time she ever dared to think that she could not go on, her mother pushed her.

Fourteen years of this, from the very moment she was born, Akali was trained, and no matter how many bones she broke, no matter how many times she coughed blood from the strain, no matter how many times she accomplished something, and her mother looked at her with disdain for not doing more, she did it. It took fourteen years, but Akali heard the words: "Good job," for the first, and last time, in her life. There was no question, she would be the next Fist of Shadow. This was who she was.

This mission would be simple for a professional like her.

Akali's kamas were sheathed at her sides, bouncing off of her muscled thighs as she used a flexible branch to vault her quicker. One minute and she would gain sight of the rock garden. Her calloused fingers rubbed against one another, she could feel the places where her bones had been broken and mended again and again. It was another six years in the Kinkou order before she was officially named "The Fist of Shadow", and all of the heartache, all of the p-

Heartache?

What heartache?

Akali pushed the thought out of her head. As the Fist of Shadow, she was the medium of the Triumvirate. Shen was logic, Kennen was empathy, she was the middle ground, the one who has to bear the weight of the actions. If she ever made a wrong kill, it would be Akali who would have to carry the guilt. If the Kinkou were ever to err, it would be Akali who would have to correct it. These were her responsibilities, "To prune the tree," is what they told her.

This mission would be simple, she told herself again, just like every other one. This one was no different.

Akali could see the rock garden and the low walls that surrounded it. Soji was focused on his training, not paying attention to his surroundings. She could see it even at this distance, the idiot.

Akali landed on the ground without a sound, and scaled the wall with ease. Her fingers gripped the top edge and held her entire body weight as she peered over top. Soji was training without a mask.

He had a sharp nose, a fat lower lip, a birthmark on his chin and an overbite. Members of the Kinkou were only allowed to take their masks off when in the company of other members of the Kinkou, never in public and never with "outsiders". This was to keep their identity a secret, to act without being judged, without being perceived as anything more than tools of Balance. They were not people when they wore these masks.

Akali's shoulders rolled ever so slightly, as though she had just remembered the dragon tattoo on her back. She remembers the lack of pain, an echo compared to what she had been put through, and served as a constant reminder as what she had sacrificed to earn it, and that this was who she was, forever marked on her flesh, that Akali was the Fist of Shadow.

She vaulted over the wall, the moment her toes touched the ground Akali took off as Soji swung his blade in his kata the opposite direction of her. Akali's hands shot to her sides, grabbed her kamas, and before he could react, pressed them against his throat. One fluid pull, and his throat was sliced clean open, both arteries, his windpipe, and a torrent of blood flooded out from the mortal wound.

Akali watched Soji crumple to the ground, gasping and choking on his own blood. He did not stand a chance. Soji seemed to be clawing for something. What? What could it be? His weapon? No, his weapon was in reach, he was trying to find something else. His mouth moved, tears filled his eyes...

Tears? How pitiful. This man dared call himself a ninja, a member of the Kinkou. How disgusting.

Yet the compulsion to hear his final words made Akali kneel down and listen closely.

"S...Sa..." he said in garbled speech. "Sak...s-sak..."

Akali heard the hollow thud of wood strike metal. She looked over at her kama and saw a bloodied charm hang off the crook of her blade. The Fist of Shadow placed her left kama gently on the ground, then brought her right one in front of her. It was an carved piece of wood, oval in shape, and seemed to be openable. Akali placed it on her palm, and with a flick of her fingers, opened it.

It read, "Sakura".

Sakura was his younger sister. Akali had caught Soji a year ago trying to sneak out the night before the Festival. When confronted, he had admitted to her that, despite the fact that all Kinkou members were allowed to attend the festival for one day, they never said anything about the night. He missed his sister, it had been so long since he had seen her. Soji knew that begging Akali would have been pointless, but he had to tell her the truth.

Akali had let him go.

Akali placed the wooden charm in Soji's hand, closed his fingers around it and looked at him. Despite his tears, his pain, the flow of blood that started to diminish in intensity, he smiled at her. Akali sat there and watched the last signs of life leave him, holding his hand the entire time.

Once she was sure the target was dead, she grabbed her kama, sheathed both of them, and took off back towards the woods.

This was supposed to be a simple mission.