I thought of writing a collection of short stories, glimpses and musings of Mireille Bouquet and Kirika Yûmura's daily lives. They could be taking place during or after the events of Noir, I haven't defined it that much. Some of them probably fit anywhere, while others are more of that "after-stuff". Each chapter stands on its own, and they are not necessarily in a chronological order either, but I thought it'd be odd to upload a multitude of shorties as their own stories, so. I'll be updating every now and then, and when I say it's complete, there will be no more chapters. We'll see if I manage to break some secret rule here with this stuff of mine. :)

Rating will probably jump up a notch or two at some point as I write more stuff (because we all know the two assassins will end up in bed sooner or later)~

As all of us know, I don't own shit, especially not Noir, Mireille B. or Kirika Y. They're property of Bee Train and the awesome people running the studio.

Kirika was sitting on the second downmost step leading to the bedroom area. Just sitting there, deep in thought. There was nothing out of ordinary, she usually just hung about when Mireille was doing her things at the laptop by the pool table. While the blonde kept tapping the keys and clicking the mouse every now and then, Kirika contemplated her life. Her life that was a lie, had always been. At least up until recently.

Kirika didn't know her real name or identity, and about the only things she could remember about her past - against her will - were the slaying of Mireille's family, and a few things of Altena. Yes, she had mercilessly shot Mireille's father, mother and brother when she herself had been just a child, no more than six years old, at the most. And yet the blonde assassin had found it in her heart to forgive her the terrible sin.

In silence Kirika's gaze shifted towards the pool table and fixed onto the woman in question. Since meeting Mireille, Kirika had gained something. Her life was still mostly a lie, but there was now something in addition to counter weight that. Officially she was no more Kirika Yûmura than she had been before the Bouquet had made her entrance into her life, but the name was starting to mean something more to her. Not just because it was all she had, like earlier, but because of the sound of it whenever it was uttered out loud by the blonde. To Mireille she was Kirika Yûmura, and that made it a little less lie for Kirika. More than a little. She could accept that, all the more now, that she didn't have to be alone anymore.

The Japanese girl closed her eyes and let out a silent sigh. She had been so alone. So alone that all hert heart had known was darkness, all her hands had known was sin and blood, smeared all over them. And her mind had been numb, if not silently screaming its sorrow of being so utterly alone. And all the while her body had delivered death, the Beretta M1934 in her hand singing the song of the Reaper, felling targets one after another. Without fail or even the slightest morsel of hesitation. Kirika had been an emotionless killer, nothing more and nothing less. After her "rebirth" in Japan, when she had come to be the Kirika today, she had had no clue about anything at all, yet she was capable of killing people just like that. But her heart had ached in her chest, bleeding as her tears fell from her eyes, genuine perplexity repeating in her head over and over again; why didn't she feel anything for the people she rid the lives off of. Nothing, not a shred of sympathy or sadness. But that had changed later, as well.

Kirika opened her eyes again, when Mireille muttered something under her breath. Her gaze lingered at the blonde again, her mind wondering if something was wrong. Judging by the way Mireille's sandy brows were knit together, she had encountered an obstacle. With a deep sigh Mireille's shoulders slumped and she leaned her face to the palm of her hand that had abandoned the mouse. Her blue eyes then pointed their gaze at Kirika from under the furrowed brow, and the woman's mien changed in an instant, her posture straightening and a smile spreading accross her beautiful features, obviously trying to hide the fact she had been caught. But caught of what, was a mystery to Kirika, and she had no reason to know, either. But the smile on Mireille's face was nothing short of genuine and warm, and the corners of Kirika's mouth curved up slightly as well in response.

"I think I'll quit for the day", Mireille then said and stretched herself. "The computer won't co-operate with me at all for the moment, and my patience is running low. It's amazing how quickly it's drained when computers come in question..." the blonde then mused.

Kirika didn't reply, only kept looking at Mireille. She was waiting for the older woman to make a decision of what to do next, and Kirika would act according to that.

"Say", the blonde then begun, soon enough, "would you be up for a cup of tea?"

"Mm", Kirika hummed, nodding her head a couple of times as her smile got just a tiny bit wider. Quickly she got on her feet and made her way to the kitchen, filling a kettle with fresh water and putting it then on the stove to be boiled. She was always up for a cup of tea, as long as she could have one Mireille with it.