"What does this line say?"
Hei turned from the stove, where he was stirring a curry, to lean over the counter and take a look at the page that Misaki had pushed forward. He held a hand under the spoon so that it wouldn't drip sauce all over the paper and squinted at the line she was pointing to.
"Wait for the drop," he read.
Misaki's brow furrowed as she made a notation with her pen. "Maybe I should have you type this out instead - your handwriting is atrocious."
He'd spent half of last night translating Hui's book of orders into Japanese while waiting for Misaki to come home, yet had only gotten through a few pages of the crabbed script. They'd decided to keep the book in Misaki's apartment, tucked away on a shelf in her bookcase. It was probably the safest place; Hei couldn't risk it being found in his room. To maximize the time that they had to translate it, Misaki had told Hei that he could come up to work on it even if she wasn't home. It had felt so strange, being there without her, that he'd hardly been able to concentrate on his task. He'd felt too much like an intruder.
And it didn't help that he'd gotten in by picking the lock.
"I'm too slow with a keyboard," he told her mildly. He started to turn back to the pot, but Misaki caught his wrist. A blob of curry sauce had fallen onto the side of his thumb; she scooped it up with a curl of her index finger and popped it into her mouth. His breath caught.
"Hm," she said, staring at the sheet and completely oblivious to the effect that she had on him. "It looks like it says 'moon' here, but that can't be right. And here, again."
He leaned over, inhaling slowly to cool his blood. "No, that's right."
"Orders to follow on the night of the moon's last quarter - is that some kind of double meaning?"
Hei turned off the stove and got out a couple of bowls. "It's probably literal; I get instructions like that occasionally."
Misaki tapped her pen against her wrist, her brow furrowing again. "How can it be literal? The moon hasn't been there for ten years!"
"Of course it's still there; we just can't see it."
"I know that," she said impatiently. "But if we can't see it, how can anyone know if it's full, or last-quarter, or whatever?"
Hei shrugged and began dishing out the curry. "I don't know. Someone would have to calculate how long the phases last, and put together some kind of calendar that predicts it…"
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Misaki's eyes narrow; then she snorted a laugh and set down her pen. "Okay, I deserved that. I guess I've just never really thought about it before. The moon still behaving normally, I mean, even though it's been blocked from view for a decade."
They took their bowls and settled side by side on the floor in front of the sofa to eat. "So," Misaki said around a mouthful of rice, "from what you were able to translate last night, it sounds like Hui gets his orders on certain days depending on the phase of the moon. The question now is, when will it next be the last quarter?"
"In a week or two," Hei answered without thinking. "Uh, it should be waxing gibbous right now," he added at Misaki's look of surprise, though that clarification didn't seem to help.
"You said you get orders according to that schedule too?"
Misaki had a long ways to go before she mastered the art of the nonchalant question, Hei thought. "I have in the past," he admitted, "when I worked solo. Here in Tokyo everything comes through Huang or Mao."
"Then how do you know what phase the moon is in right now?"
"I just like to keep track." He fixed his eyes on his curry, and after swallowing another mouthful, added, "I used to stargaze with my dad all the time. Before the Gates."
She hooked her foot under the hem of his jeans and rubbed his ankle. "That sounds like it must have been fun," she said, and to his relief there wasn't any pity in her voice. Just kindness.
He nodded, his chest feeling suddenly tight.
"My dad and I never did anything together like that," Misaki continued, generously lifting the burden of conversation from him. "I spent all my free time with my mom in the years she was sick; then afterwards, Dad was busy with work and I was busy with school. He wasn't even home when Hell's Gate appeared." She paused thoughtfully, then laughed. "Neither of us has any hobbies outside of our jobs anyway; bonding over work is the only thing we know how to do."
Hei wanted to ask her about her mother - he wanted to know everything that it was possible to know about Misaki - but she so rarely brought up the subject that he guessed it must be painful for her. Instead he said, "You have nothing in common besides work?"
"Well, I did get my love of Porsche from him." She leaned over and stole a tofu nugget from Hei's bowl. "When his department took down the Kobashigawa family, the younger son's car collection was seized and auctioned off - as soon as I saw that blue 911 Coup I knew I had to have it. At first Dad was furious that I would buy a gangster's car; but he changed his mind fast enough." She grinned, then immediately turned serious. "But I don't let him drive it - he grinds the clutch."
Hei gazed at her fondly. She loved that car; but he knew that she would give it up in heartbeat if it meant helping someone she cared about. She knew how to let go.
After they'd finished eating, Hei went back to translating while Misaki cleaned up the kitchen. He wasn't seeing anything particularly remarkable in the text; but if there was anything there, he was sure that Misaki would spot it.
When she returned to the living room, Hei glanced up from his perusal of the Korean-Japanese dictionary that he'd borrowed from the library. He didn't really need to look anything up from this particular page, but his hand needed a break - he wasn't used to writing so much. Wordlessly, he passed over his newly finished sheet. Misaki immediately began scanning the lines.
"Why did you draw a box around all these numbers?"
He held up the moleskin notebook, open to the page that contained the original text that he'd duplicated exactly - including the box.
"Hm." Her brow furrowed; she pushed her glasses up higher on her nose, then reached across the table for her laptop.
They worked in comfortable silence. Hei didn't care at all about the contents of the book, but the process of translation was a satisfying mental exercise that he so rarely got to do. But more importantly: Misaki needed his help.
He had trouble admitting it even to himself, but a part of him was terrified that eventually she would get bored with him, or find someone with whom she could have a real relationship with, out in the open. Now that Saitou knew about them, things were even more precarious. No matter how much Misaki trusted the man, Hei just couldn't bring himself to.
For the twentieth time that day, he considered going to Huang and requesting that the detective's memory be erased; he could come up with a suitable excuse. But he knew that Misaki wouldn't forgive him for it, and betraying her trust like that would mean losing her completely. As long as he could simply sit by her side, he could be happy. Watching her hard at work in a tank top and sweats, her glasses sliding inexorably down her nose no matter how many times she pushed them back up, filled him with a contentment that he'd never thought possible to feel.
Hei had just realized that he'd been staring at her rather than finishing the page he was on when Misaki slammed the laptop lid shut.
"What the hell are all these numbers?" she said, glaring down at the paper. "They're not coordinates, or dates, or addresses - I can't figure it out!"
"I'm sure you will."
Misaki snorted. "You have too much faith in me. I'm so tired of leads that go nowhere! So far all we have is confirmation that Hui was behind those amnesia cases. I have Saitou looking into them quietly, in case there's anything that links the victims to the organizational hierarchy; but there's only so much we can do without opening an official investigation. And I don't want to attract the attention of whoever it is that's infiltrated the police."
Beneath the obvious frustration in her voice was an undercurrent of sadness. First her close friend, now the institution that she had devoted her life to…
He reached over and squeezed her knee. Misaki continued to stare at the numbers in front of her, but she laid her hand on his and stroked his knuckles gently. "I'm sure the answer is in here somewhere; I can feel it in my gut. But this may as well be written in code - oh!" She suddenly sat up straighter, eyes bright. "What if that's it?"
Was she this animated at the office? Hei wondered. He doubted it, and felt a warm glow at the reminder that he was lucky enough to see all sides of her, not just the carefully contained personality that she presented to the rest of the world.
Misaki turned to him, her expression eager.
"What?" he asked cautiously.
"Is it a code you recognize?"
Ah. There it was again, that subject that they'd been dancing around for the past few days - ever since the Syndicate had sent a contractor disguised as the Black Reaper to kill her. Or pretend to try to kill her, at least; Hei still wasn't sure what the purpose of that particular strategy had been. Fortunately, he could answer this question honestly. He did occasionally receive coded instructions from the Syndicate, but none of the ciphers they used with him involved numbers.
"No."
Misaki deflated a little. "Damn. This is going to be a pain in the ass to break then."
As she sat, tapping her pen absently, a thought occurred to Hei.
"Why did he encode just those orders? Why not the rest of the book, if he was worried about losing it?" Everything else in the notebook had been perfectly clear, even if it was missing the necessary context.
Misaki frowned. "Good question… Maybe these aren't orders, but rather notes to himself. He's using his own personal cipher, one that his employers don't know - information that's important enough to remember, but risky to him if discovered."
Recording information against the Syndicate? That contractor was playing a dangerous game, if it were true.
"If that's the case, we'll have to spend some serious time on this," Misaki continued. "And if the code is based on Korean, I'm definitely going to need your help. When is the dictionary due back?"
"Due?" Hei asked absently. He was going to be next to useless if it was a matter of solving a code. Puzzles were not his strong suit. But if it gave him an excuse to continue working closely with Misaki, he'd take it; he didn't want to become simply a distraction to her real work. Her real life.
Belatedly he realized that Misaki was waiting on an answer from him.
"Uh," was all he managed.
Her eyes narrowed in sudden understanding. "You stole a book. From the library?"
He hunched his shoulders at the accusation in her tone. "Technically, I only borrowed it without permission. I'm going to take it back." It wasn't very likely that the Syndicate would be monitoring the activity on his alias' library card - but he couldn't be too careful.
If anything, that response only made her more indignant; but her reply was cut short by the buzzing of her phone.
"Kirihara," she answered, throwing a censorious look at Hei. But her expression immediately changed to one of worry. "Dad - is something wrong?" She paused. "Well, when was the last time you called just to say 'hi'?"
Hei suppressed a smile, and turned his attention back to the notebook, pausing to briefly massage a cramp in his thumb.
"Sure; what do you need?"
It sounded like a casual conversation; even so, Hei wondered if he ought to leave the room to give her some privacy. But there was really nowhere else to go in the small apartment, aside from the bedroom. And there was nothing to do in there. Nothing without Misaki, at least.
Misaki snorted into the phone. "Why would you think that? Anyway, why can't someone from your own department go? I have a lot of work to catch up on."
She always had work to catch up on, Hei was sure. And if she didn't, she would find some.
Misaki tucked her knees up to her chest and cast Hei an apologetic glance. "Spending all evening in a stuffy room full of stuffy people isn't my idea of 'enjoying myself'. Anyway, the Director -" She broke off to listen. "What?"
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I thought we were done with that discussion. I'm not ready for any kind of career advancement yet."
A long pause; then, "Just who am I supposed to bring?" She glanced towards Hei, and blushed slightly. He tried to keep the curiosity from his expression, but he couldn't help wondering what she and her father were talking about.
Finally, she sighed in evident defeat. "Fine. But you owe me." She snapped her phone shut and glared at it.
"Is everything alright?" Hei asked.
"Fine," she said sharply.
"…Are you sure?"
Misaki exhaled slowly, then set her phone on the table in front of her. "Yes; sorry. It's just that I have a hard time saying no to favors for my dad."
"It can't be that bad?" If Division Chief Kirihara needed help with casework, surely Misaki would jump at the chance.
She shrugged. "I guess it's really not…but it's not exactly something that I'd normally want to do. Have you heard of the Gate Relief Fund?"
Hei shook his head.
"Oh. Well, it's this charity that was started not long after Hell's Gate appeared, to help families of the victims. Mostly it's made up of government officials, CEOs - people who like to throw money at things and have their names attached to something important, without actually accomplishing anything useful." She scowled. "They throw a big, expensive charity dinner every year, and they like to invite members of the police and the military, especially those who were on the scene ten years ago. Since my dad holds a high position, he usually gets an invitation - but apparently this year something's come up and he can't attend, so he asked me to go in his place."
No wonder Misaki was irritated; that sounded like pure torture to someone like her. "When is it?"
"This Saturday." She grimaced. "I'll have to go shopping; I don't have anything that's nice enough to wear to something like that."
Images of Misaki in that red qipao, ripped and torn, her hair coming undone, filled Hei's mind. Idly he wondered what sort of dress she would choose for herself, and whether she would wear it for him when she got home.
"And even worse, I have to bring a date." She turned to him, her tone apologetic. "I mean, obviously I'd prefer to bring you - that might almost make the evening bearable - but that's not really possible. There will be too many people from the police there, and who knows how high up the mole is? Someone might recognize you."
She wanted to take him? On an actual date? Hei wondered if she really meant that, or if she was just being considerate to his feelings. Though it wasn't like Misaki to lie for any reason.
"Maybe I can ask Saitou to go with me," Misaki said, and Hei's full attention snapped back to her, his stomach twisting unpleasantly.
"Saitou?" His tone was a bit sharper than he'd intended. He had nothing against the man personally, but the thought of him taking Misaki to a party was unwelcome.
She raised an eyebrow. "Why not? We're friends."
"I think that might send the wrong signal," he said stiffly, and turned the dictionary to a random page.
Misaki shrugged. "I'd make it clear that it's for work - Saitou wouldn't expect anything else anyway. What?"
Hei realized that he was staring. Of course she wouldn't realize that her subordinate had feelings for her. He wondered if he ought to tell her; but Saitou seemed content to keep those feelings to himself, and he didn't want to upset Misaki's working relationships.
"Nothing," he said. "I just don't think it's a good idea."
The corner of her mouth quirked up into a sly smile. "Are you jealous?"
Hei studied the page in front of him. "Why would I be." He was a contractor; he didn't have feelings like that. And even though someone like Saitou would be better for her in the long run, Misaki had never shown any interest in other men besides Hei, despite the casualness of their relationship. But he still didn't like it.
Her foot stroked up his ankle again, and he sucked in his breath. She reached over and took his right hand, holding it against her chest and gently massaging the tight muscles at the base of his thumb.
"Well, if it'll make you feel better, I'll figure something else out." She sighed. "And maybe it won't be so bad; I've never been to the Keio Plaza, and it's supposed to be really nice."
That name settled like a stone in Hei's stomach; Misaki cast him a worried glance, and he realized that he'd tensed up his hand.
"Keio Plaza Hotel? Saturday?" he asked quietly.
"Yes. Why?"
He really didn't want to be telling her this; but if she was going to be there, there was no way around it. And from her tone, she'd already guessed what he was about to say.
"I'm working on the catering staff there that night."
"And?"
"And, I have instructions to bring my gear. Just in case."
Misaki squeezed his hand. "Just in case of what?"
Was it Misaki asking him that question, or Section Chief Kirihara? Was there even a difference? He was toeing the line that he'd drawn for himself, walking on a knife's edge between his personal and professional lives. Something that he was not very experienced at, as the concept of a personal life was virtually new to him.
"Some of the Syndicate's higher-ups are going to be there, and they're worried about an attack by a rival organization." That was all the information that he'd been given, though others probably knew more. His job was simple: just watch for threats, and head them off without breaking his cover. Yin would be standing guard as well.
Misaki let his hand fall and pulled a sheet of paper and a pen towards her. "What rival organization? Who are the higher-ups that'll be there?"
"I don't know," he said, already missing the warmth of her touch.
She gave him a hard look; then her face softened a bit. "Do you think you might recognize any of them? Maybe we can figure out a way for you to secretly point them out to me."
"No."
The wariness in her eyes twisted his stomach. "No you won't recognize them, or no you won't tell me who they are?" she asked quietly.
He couldn't bring himself to answer her question, truthfully or otherwise.
But somehow she understood his silence. "Why not?" she demanded. "As long as no one sees us working together, it should be fine."
"That's not the point," Hei said, wondering why he had to explain this. "They're my employers."
Misaki blinked at him. "Then what are you doing here?" she asked, gesturing to the notes spread out on the table in front of them.
"Helping you translate a notebook that you found. That's all."
"And when you caught Hui for us?"
"He was attacking you. And I didn't know he was with the Syndicate at the time." Belatedly Hei realized that that was a stupid thing to say; he would have stepped in no matter who the other contractor worked for. But Misaki didn't give him a chance to correct himself.
"So what you said before, about leaving the Syndicate - that was a lie?"
The quiet hurt in her voice was worse than if she'd shouted at him. His hand was resting on the floor right next to her knee; he wanted to reach up and touch her leg, just to have any sort of physical contact with her, but he didn't dare.
"I meant it," Hei said. "I still do."
"But you won't help me with this?"
He rubbed the back of his head in frustration, and stared at the open dictionary in front of him. "It's different. I'll leave them, for you. Once I figure out how. But they're my employers; I can't just turn against them."
"Your employers - who would abandon you at the drop of a hat if it was in their best interest, by your own admission!" There was a clear tone of anger in Misaki's voice now, though Hei wasn't sure whether it was directed towards himself or the Syndicate. "Hei, what exactly do you think you owe them?"
He looked at her in surprise. "Everything."
Misaki stared at him for a long moment. He hoped that she wouldn't ask him to explain; he didn't think that he could. At last she sighed and looked away, folding her arms across her chest. "I guess I really shouldn't be upset that you don't want to betray your employers, when your sense of loyalty is one of the things I love about you."
Her words, so unguarded and unexpected, left him speechless. But then his heart clenched when she continued, "I need to think about this for a while; it's only Tuesday, so there's still time. Anyway, it's getting late and I'm too tired to work on this any more tonight."
He knew what was coming next. She needed space; she needed him to leave. Someone else could help her translate the Korean text.
"Come on; let's go to bed."
He was too surprised to move. Misaki took his hand with a weary smile and stood, pulling him up with her. He held on to that lifeline as she led him into the bathroom, and only reluctantly let go when she reached for her toothbrush. It was a tight squeeze at the sink; but Misaki always pressed in closer to him than she needed to, so he didn't mind.
"Can I -"
But she was already passing him the bottle of mouthwash.
"Hei, I keep telling you, you don't have to ask. Oh, that reminds me…"
Misaki squeezed passed him, giving his rear an intentional brush on her way out of the room. Hei watched her go, curious as she disappeared around the corner into the living room. He took a measure of the astringent mouthwash and began swishing it around in his mouth, subconsciously counting the seconds.
He was just rinsing with water from his cupped hand when Misaki returned.
"Here," she said, handing him a small plastic-wrapped package. "I picked this up for you today."
Hei turned it over in his hands, frowning slightly. "I have my own, at my place…"
She picked up her toothbrush again. "I'm sure you do," she said. Then, around a mouthful of toothpaste, "That's for you to keep here. I've been meaning to grab one for ages."
He didn't know what to say. Misaki rinsed out her mouth, then glanced up at his reflection in the mirror and smiled. "Thirty seconds: ten on the left side, ten on the right, and ten all around. Every night. It's probably been driving you crazy, not being able to brush your teeth as part of your normal routine."
Did he do that? She was right: brushing his teeth and rinsing with mouthwash had been a nightly routine for him for years, some little bit of normalcy that he clung to whenever he could. But he'd never realized that he was that predictable.
"Hei, just take the toothbrush and say 'thank you'."
"Uh, thanks."
Misaki flashed him a warm smile and rubbed his upper arm affectionately. Before he could ask, she handed him the toothpaste, then left the bathroom.
Hei unwrapped the new toothbrush slowly. It was just a toothbrush; why did he suddenly feel overwhelmed by emotion that he couldn't even name? He took a deep breath to re-center himself, then squeezed out some of the toothpaste and began brushing his teeth, relaxing into the familiar routine.
When he'd finished, he set the toothbrush next to Misaki's in the cup by the sink. He hoped that that would be alright; he wasn't sure what else to do with it.
Before joining Misaki in the bedroom, Hei first headed out to the living room. He straightened the papers that they'd left strewn across the coffee table and closed the dictionary, making a mental note to take it back to the library by the end of the week. He checked to make sure the doors were locked, even though Misaki did that herself every night when she got home; then he turned off the lights.
Misaki's reading light was still on above her bed, but she'd already set her glasses on the nightstand next to her side and snuggled down under the covers. Also on the nightstand was a glass of water holding a wilting red rose. Hei hadn't been sure whether she would like the flower or not, and was pleased to see that she was holding on to it even as its bloom died; though surely it would be time to throw it away soon.
He stripped down to his shorts, then climbed into bed on the other side. He reached over Misaki and turned off the light; as he settled back onto the mattress, he ran his hand down her bare arm and kissed her cheek softly. He'd been expecting her to want to just sleep; but instead, she turned her head to take his lips in a tender kiss. She wove her fingers into his hair to tug his face even closer.
"What do you want tonight?" he whispered, slipping his hand beneath her shirt to stroke her smooth stomach. Her muscles quivered at his touch.
"Mm," Misaki murmured into his mouth with peppermint breath. "Something slow, and sweet."
Hei smiled to himself in the darkness. He didn't know what tomorrow held, or how he was going to get through an entire evening of pretending not to know his own lover, all while working a job. But the future was meaningless; all that mattered was the present. And right now, the present was nothing but sweetness.
