The Informant
I hurried through the darkening streets as the wind picked up a little. I was early, but in my line of work, being one step ahead is only necessary. Sleet was beginning to fall like shrapnel from the sky, and I was glad to be wearing my woolen pea coat. Ducking quickly under the awning of a tiny café, I tugged the hood from my head and entered the shop to the tinkling of a tiny bell.
The intoxicating scent of coffee wafted over me as I swept my hand through my coal black hair, and I took a seat at a small table near the window. I was meeting an informant, but the contact was to be brief. According to my sources, he had good information but couldn't be trusted. The small handgun strapped to my hip and covered by my coat suddenly felt heavier, the metal of the throwing knives colder against my forearms. I was blending, inconspicuous, yet alert. Being who I was, I never knew when things would get... interesting.
The pitiful peal of the shop's bell sounded again, and I looked up to see a stunningly handsome man about my own age step into the café. As I looked him over, the first thing I noticed was his eyes. They were emerald, deep as the ocean yet observant and calculating. Amber and emerald locked for a split second, and he made his way smoothly over to me. He slid into the seat across from me, looking into my eyes again.
Heartbeat quickening unfamiliarly, I managed to ask, "How did you know it was me?"
I was attempting to keep up my usual cool demeanor, but for some mysterious reason, I was failing miserably with this one.
"Oh, I can always tell," he answered, smirking.
The voice that emerged was velvety smooth and low, a beautiful, deep baritone. His eyes never left mine as he slid a Manila envelope across the table towards me. I was trying valiantly to maintain the eye contact he kept, but the molten emeralds captivated me, and left me utterly speechless. Finally, I was forced to surrender, and tucked the envelope into my coat.
"Thank you for your information, sir," I said, my voice coming out softer than I had meant it to. He smirked again, annoyingly.
"Please. Call me Takumi." Eyes locked and once more, my vocal cords again seemed to be dysfunctional. He stood silently to leave, and a hand tugged his sleeve. Too late, I recognized it as my own. I mentally slapped myself upside the head. What was I thinking? There was no time for this. I had a job to do. He turned, his eyes alight with something I couldn't quite read.
"Misaki," I stated simply, not knowing what else to say. My hand fell away from his sleeve, my fingers briefly brushing his and sending a jolt of electricity through me.
Giving a small half smile, he said coolly, "Well then, Misa-chan, thank you."
And then he was gone, like a fleeting shadow into the wintry dusk. I would usually have bristled at the nickname, but the way it rolled smoothly off his tongue just felt so... right. Like he was the only one supposed to be saying it. Who was he? And why did his presence do such inexplicable things to me? I shook myself internally. 'Stop, Misaki. Move on. He was just an informant, like so many others before him. That's all.' But was it? I shook myself again to clear my head, and stood up from the table. Pulling up my hood once more, I ducked out into the cold, cold night. I would never see him again. Probably. Because in my line of work, you never knew, did you? Anything could happen.
A/N: Hi everybody, thanks for reading my story. I just came up with this little ficlet in the car, typed a little, and well… here we are! I hope you enjoyed it. This is my first fanfic, so I'd appreciate any feedback or comments that you'd be willing to give. Just PM me if you have any questions!
~An Elegant Chaos