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I – Girl
GoGo Yubari hated it when things were messy.
Granted, one might think she wasn't organized, given the way that her room walls were chaotically filled with posters of Japanese teenage idols, all of them decorated with a rather sickening shade of pink (sometimes even with cute little animals or sparkles). Of course, one could also think that given the cute the way she dressed, as well as the many charms attached to her personal belongings, GoGo Yubari was a perfectly normal 17 year old Japanese girl.
(However, one look at the charm-clad katana in her hands and the psychotic yet sweet smile-- specially if said katana had just been thrust into a warm, living body-- tended to change one's opinion on things.)
Indeed, GoGo preferred it if things were perfectly organized and kept in their respective places. Her closet was a prime example of that, as were all her drawers and cabinets-- even the ones where she kept her weapons in. But the most obvious part was her appearance: the carefully kept uniform, the white, spotless sneaker shoes and the knee-high cotton socks. Her hair was always combed and trimmed with amazing precision, either allowed to flow freely or pulled up into two ponytails. Whatever hair style or clothes she wore, GoGo made sure that everything was neatly organized and symmetrical: from the little red bow on her shirt to the height of her white socks, nothing could remain out of place or be neglected.
The only exception to her almost obsessive-compulsive behavior was, of course, when she killed. She didn't mind being dirty as long as it was someone else's blood on her clothes.
II – Blood
When she killed, she wanted it to be messy. She wanted to see the blood gushing out, wanted to feel it squirt or splash against her skin; she wanted to hear the disgusting squelch sound of entrails falling limp from an open stomach and onto the floor. If one would ask her what she liked best: the thrusting of the blade, the bleeding, or the look of terror and fear in her victim's eyes-- well, naturally, they would be killed by her after such a stupid question had been posed. GoGo Yubari thought that such questions were foolish and annoying, and if someone asked her such things, they were too dumb to live, anyway.
Truthfully, she just couldn't choose what part of killing she enjoyed the most.
She liked being a murderer, but it wasn't merely about ending a life… she preferred to play with her prey. Those were the most satisfying occasions: when the victim would bleed and feel every little nerve aching, when they would groan out in pain-- if she had given them the time to react at all, that is. She often did, and that was all that mattered; after all, if O-Ren-sama wanted someone to die a quick death, she would send one of the Crazy 88 to do the job, wouldn't she? Even though she was technically O-Ren-sama's bodyguard, sometimes GoGo would be allowed to go out and have fun—which meant that she would be given a small list, which contained the names of people that O-Ren Ishii would rather not have to deal with any longer.
She always felt as though she were a kid in a candy store, whenever her Mistress gave her a List.
III – Pleasure
Occasionally, GoGo Yubari enjoyed drinking. She had a surprisingly high tolerance for alcohol, given her young age and gender; but then again, she was also a ruthless killer, and most people did not relate that concept to cute and petite schoolgirls.
That night was one of her drinking nights. Her Mistress had allowed her to drink, and so GoGo had gladly seated herself at one of the barstools. She tried to ignore the disgusting man next to her as she downed some of her sake, directly from the bottle, her manners obviously cast aside for that night. It was a little hard not to notice him, though, given how fixedly he was staring at her legs.
"Do you like Ferraris?"
So the idiot had finally spoken, huh? GoGo pulled the bottle away and didn't even care about the drops of sake that fell from her mouth and onto her shirt. Ferraris, of all cars! What was so special about that European junk? They had much better cars in Japan.
"Ferrari… Italian trash."
It was obvious how much the man wanted to impress her; he probably had a Ferrari or two, and was used to impressing young girls or women with them-- most likely to get them into bed. Well… that night he was going to get very lucky.
"Do you want to screw me?"
Predictably, he laughed. If anything, the expression made him look even more disgusting; his teeth were crooked and yellow and ugly, and if GoGo didn't want to kill him already, then this would have changed her opinion. She wanted him to shut up and answer.
"Don't laugh! Do you want to screw me, yes or no?"
"Yes."
Good.
She drew her katana and thrust, her breath hitching as the expression in the man's eyes changed from joyful to terrified. "How 'bout now, big boy?" Yes, this was what she wanted to see, what she loved doing-- thrusting her blade smoothly into a warm, inviting body, the flesh unresisting as she sunk the blade deeper and deeper. "Do you still wish to penetrate me…" GoGo gasped as she twisted the blade. "…or is it I… who has penetrated you?" It was always like that whenever she tortured or killed someone: the weapon felt like an extension of herself, and she could almost feel the warmth of her victim's insides surrounding her-- sickening, and yet oh so delightful, as if the person who hated her for ending their own life were also embracing her tightly. Sometimes she imagined if that was a man felt like whenever he fucked a woman, but she had never cared much about sex; GoGo had tried it, once, only to realize that there was no fun in it at all. The only thing truly pleasurable about her (very few) sexual encounters had been slaughtering those men at the end.
GoGo pulled the blade harshly from the annoying man's body, not moving from her seat even as the blood sprayed all over her legs. She licked her lips and reached for her neglected sake bottle, drinking what was left on it as she felt the blood cool down on her skin.
She was going to have to buy new clothes and shoes.
IV – Climax
"So, O-Ren… Any more subordinates for me to kill?"
Her Mistress did not answer-- there was no need to. If the Bride was as intelligent as she appeared to be, then she knew who would come next-- O-Ren's personal bodyguard, GoGo Yubari.
The scent of blood was intoxicating: it sent a thrill up her spine as she walked closer to the stairs to properly observe her target. GoGo looked composed, like she always did-- but she felt very differently from all the fights she had been about to participate in, so far. After all, this one wasn't a nameless, stupid gaijin, or a drunk man hoping to have sexual intercourse with an underage girl. No, this one was different; the one and only Black Mamba: one of O-Ren-sama's most powerful enemies, if not the greatest. Her mistress had made it clear that this woman had to be eliminated, no matter what it took.
The moment had come, and it was GoGo's turn to make sure the American bitch would finally find her place in Hell.
"Hi!"
"GoGo, right?"
"Bingo! And you're Black Mamba."
"Our reputations precede us."
"Don't they?"
So much time wasted on introductions… In any other occasion, GoGo would have been annoyed, but Black Mamba was the kind of person she enjoyed to play with before going for the kill. Or the maiming, or the torture… whichever turned out to be the most enjoyable option, even though all of the other alternatives inevitably ended up in death. Preferably by GoGo's blade, or her meteor hammer… or even her bare hands.
"GoGo, I know you feel you must protect your mistress. But I beg you. Walk away."
"You call that begging? You can beg better than that."
Did the idiot really think the girl would step aside, even if she did beg? Ridiculous. It was GoGo's duty to protect her Mistress-- with her own life, if things came to that-- and besides, how could she back away from such an exciting duel? Perhaps the Bride really wasn't as intelligent as GoGo had thought. Did she really not know how much GoGo loved to kill?
The meteor hammer fell to the floor with a loud clang, the chains rattling slightly at the sudden movement. The Bride's eyebrows went up, but it didn't take her long to raise her sword and point it directly at the Japanese girl.
And so the fight began.
GoGo stepped forward, swinging the metal ball high above her head. As if in synch, The Bride stepped back as well, apprehension clear in her expression. It made the Japanese girl smile: Black Mamba didn't know how to fight back, did she? Her favourite weapon was an unusual one, after all, and GoGo had mastered it long ago. And it was clear in the way the other woman so clumsily fought back, swinging her sword almost aimlessly, in hopes it would hit the meteor hammer or remove it from GoGo's grasp.
No such luck, Black Mamba, the girl thought, swinging the chain forcefully enough for the metal ball to come crashing against a table, missing its true target. You are not as strong as they say you are. GoGo's confidence grew as she stripped the Bride of her weapon (how could such a beautiful katana be held by the hands of that occidental traitor?), as she swung the meteor hammer and bruised and cut—she never faltered, not even after her own mistakes or after being hit by her own weapon. She would not give up, she would not give in, and she would kill the American bitch.
Just another quick, decisive move, and the chain was wrapped securely around the Bride's neck. GoGo tugged, and tugged, and tugged, every step and pull of the chain bringing her closer to her victim, and her goal, triumph and exhilaration clear in her eyes, in despite of her neutral expression. Yes, it was happening, the Black Mamba would fall by her own hands and she would make her Mistress proud--
-- but somehow the blonde woman grabbed something and GoGo felt a sharp pain on her foot. She cried out in pain, but before she could react, Black Mamba shoved that spiked thing to her head, and the world went dark.
V – Afterglow
As she died, GoGo thought of how much she wished to have been killed by Beatrix's blade instead of that ridiculous makeshift weapon.
She hoped that her own clothes and hair wouldn't get too messy.