Dai held the phone a few inches further away from her ear. Her boss was screaming at her. Again.

What on earth made you think you had the authority to make such an offer? he bellowed, his clipped English accent crackling on the long distance line. And how on earth do you think that dragging a street punk - one on the run from the Korean army - will help your mission?

Calm down, Jeremy, she sighed. He's a formidable fighter. What if I get knocked out? If he gets to fight the target, then he stands a good chance of winning. Kazama might disappear again. We've been searching for him for two years - you gave me the authority to do anything in my power to successfully complete this mission-

Do you realise how many strings I have to pull to complete your the voice continued to rage. Do you realise what expenses you have racked up in the past two days alone? And I heard something about a bar brawl- are you laughing?

No sir, it's the airport air conditioning, Dai lied, stifling her mirth. But, really it'll all be worth it, Jeremy. Remember, I haven't been to Japan since I was a child, whereas Hwoarang is familiar with Tokyo. His knowledge will help expedite this mission.

the reply came through the handset, sounding less than convinced. Dai grinned, unable to resist another opportunity to rile her superior.

And he's cute to have around...

WHAT was that?-

Jeremy, you're breaking up. Can you-

She turned off her phone, grinning. She looked up at the board - her flight had been called.


Hwoarang shifted in his seat. He hated airports. He hated the screaming children, with their screaming parents, and, most of all, he hated the waiting. To him, patience wasn't a virtue, it was a chore.

His discomfort was magnified by the fact his new travelling companion had insisted on implementing a few minor cosmetic changes', as she had called them. The first was tinting his hair back to a more natural dark hue. Having being dying his hair bright red from the age of sixteen, it was quite a shock to see his reflection topped by a mop of black hair. Even worse, she had made him comb his locks into a neat, centre parted style - since his conscription into the army, he had compensated for his enforced haircut by moulding it into jagged waxed spikes.

It's not me, he had said, shaking his head. She had rolled her eyes.

That's the point! she exclaimed. Do you want to be found? Before you fight Kazama?

After that was the worst part - she had handed him his clothes. Her expression had left no room for argument, so he had changed from his usual gear into her selection of garments without a word.

He stood up and ambled over to the window overlooking the runway. His reflection seemed alien to him. He was wearing a suit, for god's sake! At least his mother would have liked it...

I look like a lawyer, he muttered, grimacing.

That's the point!

Hwoarang jumped. He had never heard her approach, nor noticed her reflection. She smiled that infuriating smile. She, too, had changed; gone were her buckled denim flares, heavy boots and full-length leather coat - they had been replaced by a smart pinstripe jacket and skirt, and dainty shoes. Her wild locks had been tamed into a prim twist, held by a bronze clasp. She, however, seemed quite comfortable - it made Hwoarang wonder which style was truest to her real self. Given the guitar and CDs in the hotel room, he assumed the first.

C'mon, we've been called. Remember, you're an assistant manager for a small computer firm based in Seoul. You don't speak any English, so I'm your secretary and translator-

But my English is fine! Hwoarang protested, this time in English, to prove his point. Dai frowned.

Hwoarang the AWOL Tae Kwon Do expert's English is fine. Hwang Sung-hong, assistant manager, can't speak a word of English. Understand?

Hwoarang picked up his briefcase as they headed towards their gate. I hate all this cloak and dagger bullshit, he said, speaking once again in his native Korean.

What can I say? It's necessary, she said, this time with a touch of sympathy in her voice. I'm not keen on it myself, but I do what has to be done. Why risk everything on self-image?

Hwoarang pondered this. I suppose so. And, he added dryly, I do look good in a suit...

That's the spirit! she laughed. By the way, have you ever travelled in business class before?