"Wow," was the only word that made it out of Hei's mouth when Misaki opened her door.
She frowned and smoothed down the front of her sleeveless, blue and white striped summer dress. "It's too much, isn't it. I bought it last year because it was on sale and looked cute; but I've never worn it. And now that I have it on, I feel a little silly."
"You look amazing," Hei told her.
"Do you think so?"
She'd also done something different with her hair: instead of a long tail running down her back, she'd twisted it and pulled it up in a clip behind her head, exposing the smooth skin of her neck. It gave her an elegant, almost carefree look, a side of her that he never saw at the office.
Though it was spoiled somewhat by the suspicious frown on her face.
"Of course. I promised not to lie to you at my interview, remember?"
"That was for the job."
"That was for you."
A faint blush rose up in Misaki's cheeks. "Well, anyway," she said. "It'll take too much time to change; we should go." She slung her purse over her shoulder, then stepped out and locked her apartment door.
Taking a deep breath, Hei turned with her down the hall.
He had spent all morning trying to convince himself that he wasn't nervous about this afternoon. He hadn't been able to get Kouno's words out his head - not that he put much stock in his co-worker's dating advice. Far from it.
But this would be the longest that Hei had ever spent with Misaki outside of work. The longest he'd ever been alone with her; even their meetings when he'd been her CI hadn't lasted more than a couple of hours at most.
During many sleepless nights in the past year, he'd been unable to stop himself from wondering why. Why had she allowed herself to give in to his impulse that night? Was there something more than just a physical attraction between them? The fact that she'd agreed to go out with him at all would suggest that yes, there was - or that at least she was willing to find out. But how would that change once she actually got to know him, and realized that the killer in him could never truly be erased?
And then there was his total lack of dating experience as, well, himself. Surely she'd have been on many dates in the past; would she spot that he had absolutely no clue what he was doing?
Worse, what if she found him…boring?
"A thought occurred to me this morning," Misaki said as they entered the elevator, startling him back to the present. "You never asked for my address yesterday. You're lucky that you remembered correctly - and that I didn't move in the last year."
Her hand that wasn't resting on her purse hung loose by her side. Even without looking down, Hei was intensely aware of it. Was it too soon in the date to reach out and wrap his fingers around hers? Too soon in the relationship?
There had been an unspoken no touching policy during the handful of dinners that they'd been on so far; it was a little awkward, going straight from the office together in a neighborhood where their co-workers were likely to be. And Misaki didn't seem like the type to welcome affection in public. They'd kissed goodnight each time, but only once they were back at Misaki's car and ready to go their separate ways.
But with each kiss, Hei found himself craving even the slightest touch from her more and more.
"I knew you were still living here," he said distractedly.
An amused smile brushed her lips. "I did notice from the Astronomics report that you were in town a full week before you put in your application. Recon?"
"Old habit, I guess. Sorry. I didn't break in or anything," he added hurriedly. "I just watched the parking garage entrance until I saw you drive in. Then I left."
She laughed, and he couldn't help but smile. "I know you wouldn't break in, don't worry. But what exactly did you need to find out? Were you worried there might still be Syndicate in the city?"
They stepped out into the hot August afternoon. Hei had always hated heat and humidity; it reminded him too much of his deployment in Brazil. But the way the breeze played with the hem of Misaki's knee-length skirt was enough to push those memories to the back of his mind.
"Stupid dress," she muttered, pressing a hand against her thigh to hold the skirt down.
"Do you want to go back and change?"
She glanced at him, her expression soft yet unreadable. "No, it's okay. Once we get to the park and away from these buildings, I'm sure the gusts won't be as bad."
Briefly Hei wondered why she'd chosen to wear the dress if it made her so uncomfortable; then it occurred to him that she might be just as anxious as he was today, as unlikely as that seemed.
"Alright," he told her, before answering her question. "I wasn't worried about the Syndicate; I know they're gone. I just needed to know if you were still serious about hiring a contractor, and get any information I could about the job posting. And…I wanted to get a feel for Section Four. Who belonged to the team, what they were like, how they worked together. Whether or not it might be possible for me to fit in."
"That sounds reasonable," Misaki said, to his relief. "But why stake out my apartment? I'm at the office more often than I'm home. I'm sure you knew that even before we started working together."
Hei hesitated. He had no idea how to explain why the very first place he'd visited upon arriving back in Tokyo had been her place. Not without sounding like a creepy stalker, anyway.
Which, for all he knew, he was.
"Ask me later," he said at last.
Misaki cast him a curious glance, but she nodded, and Hei once again could only marvel at the amount of trust she was willing to place in him.
"Oh!" she gasped suddenly, and pointed.
They'd just rounded a tall office building. The verdant trees of Chuo Park were now in view - along with a hundred rainbow-colored, fluttering shapes filling the sky above them.
"I've never seen so many kites in my life!" Misaki marveled.
"You've never been to the festival before?" Hei asked, pleased that she was so excited.
"I never knew about it."
"It happens every year."
Misaki shook her head, gazing around at the tents and booths that lined the park's paths. "That can't be true."
"No lies, remember?"
She laughed. "I guess I really do need to get out more. Oh, look at that one, it looks just like a bumblebee!"
A little dazed by her smile, he followed her into the park.
They spent the afternoon wandering around the festival, visiting vendors selling everything from kite string and spools to t-shirts and books. Misaki was delighted by the huge variety of kites, her neck constantly craning up to watch them flying. There was every shape and size, from simple, solid-colored diamonds to elaborate dragons, lions, and birds with a multitude of ribbons streaming out behind them.
For Hei, the sight of the kites sent a bittersweet twinge through his heart; he focused instead on watching Misaki. At their dinners, she'd laughed much more easily than she ever did around their co-workers; yet today was the first time he'd seen her outright enjoy herself.
"What is it?" Misaki said, self-consciously tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Hei realized that he'd been staring. "Nothing."
He stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep himself from pulling her hair free of its clip entirely, to run his hands through her silky strands and watch the wind play with them. "I'm just glad you're having fun."
"My dad used to take me to the park to fly kites in the summer," she said with a smile as they paused for a group of shouting, laughing children to run past, ribbons and streamers fluttering behind them. "Before my mom got sick. Those are some of my best memories from when I was a kid. I had a kite that looked like an open book when it flew; I loved it."
"My grandfather taught me and my sister to make our own kites."
"Really? I'm jealous, that must have been so - Hei, are you alright? You look a little pale…"
"Fine," he forced himself to say. It felt as if a band was tightening around his chest. "It's just a little humid today."
"It is - let's go visit some more booths and get out of the sun."
They spent the next hour or so meandering through the vendor stalls. Hei bought them raspberry mochi from a little cart next to a booth that was selling the most fanciful designs that they'd seen yet. A blue and green iridescent peacock-shaped kite caught Misaki's eye; Hei didn't miss the longing in her gaze as she brushed the feathers with her fingertips.
"How much?" Hei asked the stall owner.
"No, Hei, you can't!" Misaki protested. The mochi had stained her lips a darker red. Hei quickly shifted his gaze to the kite, his heart beating a bit faster than it should.
"I want to."
"It's too expensive - and too beautiful to collect dust in the back of my closet. It's not like I actually have time fly kites these days."
"If you had one to fly, maybe you'd make the time for it." He doubted that; but he did want to do something special for her.
Misaki pursed her lips; then her face abruptly lit up. "I know something better." With that she grabbed his hand and towed him out of the stall. Caught completely off guard, Hei had no choice but to follow her across the path to another cloth-covered booth.
"You can help me make one."
Hei gazed around the tent. They were the only adults amid half a dozen children busy gluing sticks and paper together, but the woman running the stall didn't seem to mind. She led them to two adjacent mats next to a long, low work table littered with supplies.
They both moved to sit - then both glanced down at their clasped hands. Misaki smiled almost shyly; she gave his hand a brief squeeze and allowed him to help her lower herself to the ground. Hei followed suit, his skin tingling where her touch had lingered.
The mats faced away from the open entrance to the tent. It set an itch between Hei's shoulder blades, having his back exposed to a large, unknown crowd. He focused instead on helping Misaki put together her kite; it helped. Especially as Misaki's attention to detail turned out to be just as aggressive during arts and crafts as it was in policework.
He really shouldn't have been surprised, Hei thought to himself as, muttering under her breath, Misaki disassembled her wooden frame for the third time in another attempt line up the sticks perfectly.
She let him choose the paper - he carefully taped together a pattern of blue and white stripes, to match her dress.
"Will you actually take some time off to relax, now that you have your own kite?" Hei asked as they stopped by the central lawn, where a fighting competition was in full swing.
Misaki tapped her new kite idly against her leg as she watched the competitors swooping and diving above them. Her other hand was wrapped warmly in Hei's. "I think so. If I have someone to come fly it with me. Yes - go - oh, damn," she said as a black and white kite fluttered to the ground, its string cut. "I was rooting for that one."
"Why? You don't know any of the competitors, do you?"
The crowd was pressing in close around them as the final round began. The itch between Hei's shoulder blades was back, even stronger than it had been before. He was finding it harder and harder to ignore.
Misaki shrugged. "No. I just liked it, that's all." She glanced up at him, and Hei felt her fingers tighten around his. "Let's go walk around some more."
They wandered to the very edge of the park, where the crowds were thinner. Hei wasn't sure if it was the fact that there were fewer people here, or that Misaki hadn't let go of his hand; either way, it was much easier to breathe, and the heat no longer felt so oppressive. Or maybe it simply that the sun was finally sinking below the horizon, casting bands of brilliant orange and pink into the sky.
The breeze had picked up again with the lessening of the heat; Hei tossed the paper kite into the air while Misaki controlled the string and spool, her skirt fluttering around her knees. Once it was flying, the blue stripes nearly vanishing in the deep blue of the hastening twilight, they found an unoccupied patch of grass and sat, hands resting side by side on the earth. She kicked off her sandals and scrunched her toes into the grass; Hei reached over and wove his fingers between hers.
"Your grandfather taught you well," Misaki said, watching the distant form with a smile. "It's flying beautifully."
"You're the one who put it together."
"I had expert help." She turned her smile to him; then her expression grew a shade more serious. "Will you tell me what was wrong, earlier? At the competition?"
"Nothing was wrong."
"No lies, remember?" Her voice softened. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. But something was bothering you - I could tell. Please don't try and pretend that it wasn't."
Hei gazed up at the kite as it drifted a little east, the string growing taut. "It was just the crowd," he said at last. "The longer I spend around large groups of people like that, the more on edge I get. Too many years of covert ops, I guess."
Misaki looked at him for a long moment. "I keep forgetting how different your life has been," she said. "People tease me all the time about not being able to leave work at work, but…I could if I choose to. You've never had that luxury. It must be hard."
Hei shrugged and ran his thumb over her knuckles. "It was normal, for me. And now I have that choice, too; it'll just take some time to adjust." He hoped, anyway.
"Well, if I ever push too hard on something, or make assumptions where I shouldn't, let me know. I don't want you to feel like you have to pretend everything is fine when you're actually uncomfortable. Like the whole photo thing - I should have realized that taking a picture for the directory wouldn't be easy for you, but things like that are so normal for me…I didn't think."
"You didn't give me a hard time about it; don't worry."
"Still. I want to be considerate. So just tell me when something that's normal for me is new for you."
"Like this?"
She gave him a blank look. "Like what?"
Hei stared up at the kite, now nearly invisible in the darkening sky. A few stars were already visible, his among them. "This is the first real date I've ever been on."
"What? You're kidding, right?"
He shook his head. "So I don't really have a frame of reference to know if it's going well. It is going well, right?"
Misaki laughed lightly, and leaned against his shoulder. "Yes. It's going well. And if you want it to go especially well…"
"Dinner?"
"Dinner."
They stood together, her arm wrapped around his as he reeled in the kite.