A/N: As always, a huge thank you to my partner lolgirl607 for her editing prowess - these chapters wouldn't be the quality they are without her input. So shout out to her in the chapter notes!
Now for the real note:
In canon, Misaki states that she is part of the Public Security Division, Foreign Affairs, Section 4. It's mentioned again when Hei notes that Ootsuka is a member of the Public Security Division in episode 26. This is a bit inconsistent with the way Japan's National Police Agency is actually structured, and I'm unsure if it is intentional or if it is a minor translation error. In this fic, I am using the relationship the divisions have in real life, not in the show.
The NPA has a division called the Public Security Bureau (PSB). The PSB has 3 main divisions that seem to have some overlap, but we only care about 2 of them: The Public Security Division (PSD) and Foreign Affairs. In real life, these are 2 separate departments, NOT a parent & child department. The PSD primarily handles internal counter-terrorism, cybercrimes, and monitoring of dangerous (read: extremist) groups & social phenomena (not unlike the FBI in the United States). Foreign Affairs, on the other hand, tends to handle counter-intelligence & international counter-terrorism. Section 4 is a fictional addition to Foreign Affairs that specifically handles contractor-related espionage & terrorism.
~*~*\~0~/*~*~
The twine handles of the paper bag dug into Misaki's fingers, weighed down by her recent wine purchases. She transferred the bag into her left hand, shaking out her right to encourage blood flow again. A light tingling sensation spread through her hand as she watched the skin of her fingers shift from bone white to bright red.
Misaki sighed and leaned back against the elevator wall, unable to keep her eyes open any longer. After the soldiers left last night, she and Kouno spent hours at the building site, but they were unable to find any clues as to where BK-201 was taken. By the time forensics showed up to deal with the body of the construction worker, she'd given up any hope of picking up the contractor's trail.
This morning's star report showed the high point of the fight from last night – BK-201's frequency readouts were all over the place, closely followed by a second, unknown Messier code. Misaki assumed it must belong to the female contractor, though Section Four didn't have enough data on the woman to be certain. She'd instructed Ootsuka to keep an eye on both stars, and alert Misaki the moment any activity was detected.
The soldiers, on the other hand, were still an unknown quantity. She'd have to wait until tomorrow to talk with her contacts from the other sections of Foreign Affairs and see if they knew anything. Hopefully one of them could explain how a covert militia was able to enter and exit Ikebukuro without her or her director's prior knowledge or approval.
The bell dinged to signal the elevator's arrival, and Misaki opened her eyes as she felt her momentum slow to a stop. She stepped out of the lift and into the humid, open-air corridor. Kanami only lived on the third floor – low, compared to Misaki's own tenth floor apartment – but Misaki couldn't help but be a bit jealous of the location her friend lived. She was situated between Shibuya and Shinjuku, where the college crowd blended with the working class. There was a large park behind the apartment complex, plenty of shopping, and Misaki could see the train station only a few blocks away.
One thing Misaki's apartment had that Kanami's didn't was a view of the wall surrounding the Gate. She wasn't sure if that was a point in her favor or her friend's.
In all honesty, Misaki was dreading the party tonight. She didn't mind going out with Kanami, acting as wingman or chaperone depending on her friend's needs that night. But a house party felt different somehow. There was more pressure, a greater need to perform and meet expectations. The fact that it was actually a mixer made it worse. She was tempted to stay here, in the hallway, and wait for Li to show up so they could both arrive together. Misaki shook the idea from her mind and turned down the corridor.
No, that would be weird, waiting for him by the elevators. She'd just wait for him at the party.
When Misaki extended the invitation to Li last night, she was confident he was going to say no. Sure, the dinner last night had been pleasant enough, and maybe he was openly flirting with her at least a few times that evening, but it was still too soon to invite him out the very next day, wasn't it?
But he said yes. He said he'd love to.
Misaki's heart fluttered as she knocked on the door to Kanami's apartment.
"Misaki!" Kanami waved Misaki inside, taking the bag of wine from her hand and setting it down in the kitchen entrance. "Come in, come in. How was work?"
Misaki sighed. "To be honest, work was—"
"Ah!" Kanami held a finger up. "That was a trick question. No work talk tonight, only fun talk."
"Fun talk…?"
Kanami took Misaki by the shoulders and led her into the main room. "Yes, fun talk. This," she gestured to the man and woman sitting on the sofa, "is Natori Katsuya and Suzuhara Touru. Guys, this is my friend, Kirihara Misaki."
Misaki bowed her head politely. "It's good to meet you both," she said.
Suzuhara smiled gently at Misaki, nodding in return, while Natori stood up from the sofa and held out a hand to her. "Would you like to sit, Kirihara?"
Misaki started to shake her head but was interrupted by a light nudge in her lower back as her friend pushed her forward. "There are still a few more people coming, so go ahead and get to know each other. I'll finish settings things up." Kanami gave Misaki a wink as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Natori sat down in an armchair as Misaki took his old place next to Suzuhara. She heard him introduce himself to her – thirty-four, worked in banking, met Kanami through a mutual friend – but Misaki had a hard time paying attention. Every time someone new knocked on the door, she found herself sitting up a little taller, trying to peer past Natori's shoulder to catch a glimpse of the newcomer.
Every time, it was someone other than Li.
Misaki fidgeted with her empty wine glass, restless. There were now seven or eight people squeezed into the main room and the dining area, including Misaki and Kanami. Natori had long since disappeared into the group, and Suzuhara was now absorbed in conversation with another woman. Feeling no pressure to verbally excuse herself, Misaki quietly rose and snuck into the kitchen.
The din of chatter and music faded behind the kitchen wall. Misaki leaned back against the counter, breathing evenly, trying to ignore the doubt that had been steadily growing in the back of her mind. She flipped open her phone. There were no new notifications, no missed calls or unread text messages. It had been almost two hours since she arrived; almost two hours since Li was supposed to have arrived.
It made sense that Misaki didn't have any texts from him. Li told her last night that he didn't have a phone at the moment; he hadn't had the time to pick up a new one after it broke. But she had given him her cell number before parting ways last night, so that he could call in case anything came up… right? The doubt in the back of her mind was suddenly coming forward. She did give him her number, didn't she?
Misaki recalled taking out her notepad and scribbling the number down before tearing it out for him. She remembered his expression as he read the numbers over before carefully folding and tucking the paper into his shirt pocket. Yes, she had definitely given him her phone number.
So he had second thoughts, after all.
Even though Misaki was already two glasses of wine deep, the realization that Li wasn't coming was beginning to sober her up.
"I know you hate parties, but seriously Misaki? Are you so desperate for an excuse to leave that you're checking for work messages?" Kanami's tone was teasing – it was always teasing – as she entered the kitchen. She set a newly emptied wine bottle down on the counter behind Misaki, then began to uncork the next. Misaki noted ruefully that it was the same wine she had bought yesterday – the same wine Li had helped her pick.
She tore her gaze away from the bottle, fixating instead on the sky blue hand towel hanging on the wall in front of her. "I wasn't checking for work messages."
"Oh? Then what are you doing, hiding away in the kitchen checking your phone?"
Misaki sighed. Kanami had said no work talk tonight… but she wasn't ready to admit that she had been stood up yet, either. "We had a run-in with the Black Reaper last night."
Kanami tossed the wine cork in the trash under the sink, then leaned her palm onto the counter as she turned to face Misaki. "Fine. You came out tonight, so I'll humor you. One work discussion. What happened?"
Misaki's party woes were temporarily forgotten as she recounted last night's events to her friend. Running into BK-201, getting attacked by the other contractor, the soldiers taking BK-201 away with no reasoning provided… she told Kanami everything, except the part where the Black Reaper tried to protect her and Kouno. She still wasn't sure what to make of that detail.
There was silence for a while as Kanami processed the information. Then, "Misaki, you're the best chief inspector I know."
"I'm pretty sure I'm the only chief inspector you know," Misaki scoffed.
"Okay, fine, you're the only chief inspector I know. But, you're also the best police officer I know. I'm sure you'll find your contractor crush in no time."
Misaki whipped her head around, her expression oscillating between rage and horror. Kanami laughed at Misaki's glare, covering her mouth to prevent people in the other room from hearing her giggles. "Speaking of crushes, did you meet everyone here? Anyone worth inviting out for a coffee or beer later?"
There it is. Misaki sighed. "No. No one here, anyway."
Kanami perked up at Misaki's answer. "No one here? So, someone, somewhere?"
Misaki shifted her weight, folding her arms across her body. She debated lying, pretending she wasn't upset by how the night was turning out. But if she couldn't confide in her own friend, then who could she talk to?
"…I invited Li here tonight."
Kanami gasped. She lightly punched Misaki in the arm and whispered, "Holy shit, for real?"
"Ow, yes. But," Misaki paused as she checked the time on her phone again, "he should have been here two hours ago."
"Did you try texting him?"
"No, I don't have his number. But he has mine, so he should have been able to call if something came up and he needed to cancel."
Misaki could feel her friend's gaze on her. She knew most people thought of her as rational, cold, and unfeeling – as much as any contractor might be. Anyone else would see her tense posture, her tight expression, and think she might be a bit annoyed at the guy, but otherwise fine.
Kanami, however, had known her since middle school; she knew how to read Misaki in a way no one else had ever been able to. Kanami turned to face the same wall Misaki was staring at again, sidling up to her in a way that their hips bumped up against each other. She handed Misaki a new glass of wine, and they sipped their drinks together in silence, the chatter of the party drifting into the kitchen from the room behind them.
"I bet there was some emergency he got caught up in," Kanami finally said. "And if he really did stand you up tonight? Well, that's his loss. There're plenty of cool, decent guys here tonight, even a few girls if you're feeling adventurous. Don't worry about him, okay?"
Misaki sighed and nodded, her eyes suddenly feeling a bit rawer than they were a moment ago. She had been trying to convince herself all evening that the tight feeling in her chest was from her anxiety regarding the party tonight. In truth, it was a combination of things: frustration at having her lead suspect stolen from under her nose; exhaustion from the lack of sleep last night; embarrassment at the thought a cute guy could have actually been interested in her for the first time in over two years.
"I think I'm just going to go home. I'm sorry Kanami—"
Kanami held up her empty hand, cutting Misaki off. "Don't be. Let me know how it goes. I'll kick his ass if you need me to."
Misaki smiled, dropping her head onto her friend's shoulder. She stopped trying to hold back her tears as Kanami's arms wrapped around her.
~*~*\~0~/*~*~
"It's been over a week, and that's all you could find?" Misaki pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and taking a long, deep breath. "There's nothing else, nothing to tell us anything about the suspects or where they went?"
The officer on the other side of the phone hesitated. Misaki didn't have a temper exactly, but she certainly had a reputation for not taking delays well. "No, ma'am. The tire tracks didn't give us enough information, they were the same generic treads most work vehicles in Japan use, and there wasn't anything else left behind at the scene besides the evidence you gave us."
"Fine. Keep looking. Let me know if anything else turns up." Misaki hung up the phone, slamming it down with a bit more force than she meant to. She knew full well that she wasn't going to hear any more updates from the officer.
Misaki looked at the evidence bag on her desk, data and logging info scrawled on the bright orange label in black marker. It had been returned to her just this morning with the exact results she had expected: nothing. No prints, no DNA, no maker's mark. She knew the mask would be spotless – BK-201 was notorious for leaving no trace at his crime scenes – but she had hoped there might be something they could use.
When she and Kouno had made their way downstairs last week, just in time to see the large SUVs pull out of the construction site, she found the cracked and broken mask laying on the concrete at her feet. The scuffed boot print was enough to tell Misaki what had happened: the mask had fallen off at some point when BK-201 was loaded into the back of one of the vehicles, and an oblivious or uncaring soldier had stepped on it, cracking off a large chunk. The loose pieces sat at the bottom of the bag, a piece of a purple lightning bolt visible on a larger section.
"Didn't the director tell you to take the day off? You've been pulling all-nighters the last couple days now." Kouno set down a coffee on Misaki's desk before sitting down in Saitou's empty seat next to her. At Misaki's silence, he said, "I'm assuming there's no new updates."
"No." Misaki knew she failed at keeping the edge out of her voice.
Kouno took a long swig from his cup, unbothered by his chief's frustrated tone. Her team knew not to take it personally anymore. She leaned back in her own chair, taking a small sip from the cup. Kouno always made it with too much sugar; she wondered if his Canadian heritage influenced his distaste for bitter food. "Astronomics has nothing, and the Public Security Division couldn't offer us any new intelligence, either."
"Not that they've ever been thrilled to share information with us here in Foreign Affairs…" Kouno grumbled.
"…No, they haven't." It wasn't that there was a rivalry between the intelligence and counter intelligence divisions, but there were certainly a handful of section heads on each side that felt territorial over their respective jurisdictions.
"I checked in with Ootsuka this morning. There's no new activity from that female contractor from before. But…" Kouno paused, then leaned forward towards Misaki, resting his elbows on his knees, "there was some new activity from BK-201's star last night."
Misaki's pulse quickened. "Where? When? Did we get a lock on his location?"
Kouno shook his head. "He was active for a pretty long time, but they couldn't find him. Either he's somewhere far away from the doll network, or he's somewhere they don't have permission to access."
"But it hasn't fallen yet?"
"No, not yet. Both stars are still in the Tokyo region, too. They haven't gone far."
Misaki felt a mix of anxiety and relief from the news. Activity was good, she thought. Activity meant he was still alive and active. She still had a chance to demand answers from him. It certainly had nothing to do with the guilt she still felt over being the reason he was caught in the first place. But with him being out of reach of the observatory's dolls, it would be impossible to find him using the network.
"So we have activity, but it's still another dead end," Misaki muttered.
Kouno had picked up a pen from Saitou's desk and started tapping it against his boot which was crossed over his knee. "You know, Matsumoto has a few old contacts over in the PSD. Do you think he might be able to reach out to them and find anything out for us?" Kouno jabbed the cap of the pen into the rubber of the shoe, stopping the tapping. "Someone had a small private army running around Ikebukuro. If the PSD didn't know anything about that, it'd be insane."
"Go ahead and ask him," Misaki sighed. "At worst, we'll be right back where we started anyways."
Kouno nodded, then rose and headed back to his own desk, taking his coffee with him.
Misaki looked back at the broken mask on her desk. If the Black Reaper was still in Tokyo… then there was still a chance they could find him. But if they were going to find him, it wasn't going to be with the PSD's help. There had been plenty of time for them to respond to her inquiries about BK-201's disappearance, but so far all they had done was brush her off and claim ignorance of the whole affair.
Kouno was right – it was crazy to think they didn't know anything.
She rose from her own desk, taking her purse and her coffee as she left the office. She was grateful for the drink – it was more than necessary to get her through the rest of the day – but she needed something bitter to eat with it.
She made her way down from the 14th floor to the fourth, where the cafeteria for police was located. The building that the National Police Agency was currently using was a temporary lease ever since the Gate swallowed up the original headquarters ten years ago. She wasn't so sure "temporary" was the best way to describe the agreement anymore.
There was still some time before dinner, so the cafeteria was mostly empty. Along the back wall were a handful of vending machines, each carrying their own variety of snacks or drinks. One served hot, ready-made meals; Misaki frequently took advantage of that machine on days when she had to work particularly long nights and take-out wasn't an option.
It didn't look like the vending machines had been restocked recently, so Misaki's choices were limited. There were a couple of fried snacks – too salty to eat with coffee – and a candy bar or two – too sweet for her tastes, but not much else. Misaki's eye twitched. Even the vending machines were against her.
Discouraged, Misaki chugged half of the coffee, grimacing at the flavor. If she thought of it like cough medicine, maybe she could power through it. She hated the idea of throwing it out after Kouno had taken the time to make it for her. She could do this, one more gulp…
"I'm surprised to see you here, Kirihara. I thought I told you to take the day off."
Misaki choked on the drink, clamping her mouth shut before any could escape. She swallowed the mouthful down, then turned to the man behind her. "Director."
"I admire your dedication to your work, but I want to make sure you're operating at your best," Hourai chided. He rarely had any inflection when he spoke, so it was often hard to tell just how sincere he was, despite the concern the words themselves held.
"Of course, sir. I took my time coming into the office this morning."
"And will your timesheet reflect that?"
"Yes, sir." It wasn't a lie – Misaki had overslept this morning. The time management system would show that she came in later today than she had yesterday by almost an hour.
"I see. You're still working on the investigation regarding BK-201, correct? Inspector Kouno is working with you on that case?" Hourai gestured towards the cafeteria exit. Misaki took the hint. She finished the last bit of the coffee before tossing the cup in the recycling bin, then followed her director out of the room.
"Yes, sir."
"And he's been doing good work on it so far?"
The question caught Misaki off guard. "Yes, sir. He's done excellent work, as always."
Hourai nodded. "Good. He can take over for you going forward, then."
"What?" Misaki stopped in the middle of the hallway. The director stopped a few steps away and turned back to look at her. "With all due respect, sir, that's my case."
"It was your case," Hourai corrected. "As of right now, you're priorities are shifting." Hourai gestured once more, this time to the elevator he had stopped in front of.
This wasn't a request anymore – this was an order. Misaki boarded the elevator.
~*~*\~0~/*~*~
Hei snapped awake at the sudden shift from darkness to bright fluorescence. He waited for a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light behind his eyelids, then slowly peeled them open to stare at the empty, gray ceiling. The cold concrete beneath him stung his skin through the thin excuse of a shirt he was allowed to wear. Hei sat upright, positioning his back to the wall so that he could face the door. A sliver of light bled through the underside of the door to his room – his cage, he thought bitterly – but there was no movement beyond it.
Hei leaned his head back onto the chilled wall and closed his eyes again. Good. He could rest for a few more minutes, then.
Over the past few days, Hei was finding himself grateful for the lessons he had learned five years ago, back in South America, in the war he had been forced to take part in. He and his team often went long days between proper rests, hiking through dense jungle with both his and his sister's gear, constantly on the lookout for traps and ambushes; Hei learned quickly not to squander sleep when it was an option. Knowing when to steal an hour or two of sleep became the difference between life and death.
He hadn't expected to need that training now, five years later. He supposed he should be grateful that he was even allowed to sleep last night. After the chaos he had caused the day before, he was expecting harsher treatment. It was only sleep deprivation so far – though his time in Brazil, and training from the Syndicate before that, had helped make him resistant to such torture methods – but he didn't know to what extent these people might be willing to go.
Hei wasn't sure why he was here in the first place. No one ever came in the room, no one talked with him or made demands of him or anything. It had just been silence for days. He was starting to get antsy. He hated sitting still for so long with nothing to do.
In the distance, Hei heard the regular, heavy footsteps coming down the hall. There was a fourth set mixed in with them – lighter, and more irregular, as though they were struggling to keep up. A lab-coat and three guards.
Let's do this, then.
Though he was tired and his body ached, Hei forced himself to stand, leaning against the wall for support as he did. He felt the hastily stitched gash in his left thigh burn, desperately wanting to split itself open as his muscles worked. The gunshot wound was a decent way to gauge the passage of time at first, when it was still fresh and healing rapidly, but that reliability had faded as the wound closed up and changes were less noticeable day after day.
The first lock on the door clunked as it turned over, followed by the quiet beeping of an electronic keypad and two more electronic locks. A guard shoved open the heavy door and held it open for another to enter the room. Hei saw a woman with a clipboard nervously glance over the guard's shoulder into the room, startling when she made eye contact with Hei. She averted her eyes, but not fast enough to hide how afraid she was at the sight of him.
It was irrational to feel happy about that reaction. It made more sense to behave politely, cooperate with their requests to convince them he wasn't a threat. But every day he spent here, Hei felt his patience grow thinner; seeing the researcher shaking at the sight of him brought him a small amount of satisfaction.
Hei turned his attention back to the second guard, the one that had come into the room. He had stopped a few feet away, obviously wary of approaching much further. Even with Hei's hands restrained in the mechanical – not electronic – manacles and chained to the wall by a short length of thick, braided, plastic-coated cord, all three guards still looked terrified to approach him.
Guard was a loose term, as none of the men carried anything resembling a weapon, for their own safety. Yesterday was the first time they tried to transfer Hei to a different section of the facility. He had pretended to go along with the armed men, watching for an opportunity to break away from them and escape. As they turned a corner, breaking their formation briefly, Hei twisted around and placed his palms on the wrist of one of the men, hitting him with enough voltage to ensure he wouldn't be getting back up, and grabbed his weapon from its holster. He had managed to injure or kill four of the guards before they were able to get the gun back from him.
It seemed they knew better, now.
The man didn't speak to Hei as he took a few steps closer. There was a large, shiny object in his outstretched hands. Hei vaguely remembered wearing a similar helmet the last time he came here, when he took a polygraph test as part of the employee onboarding process. The overhead lights reflected off of the helmet's glossy white surface – likely the same plastic-coated metal as the manacles, to limit his ability's reach. It looked to sport the same mechanical lock as well.
Hei wouldn't be able to override the mechanism on this, either.
Hei felt the cool, smooth fabric settle over his eyes as the helmet was slipped on, heard the click behind him as it was fastened around his head. They hadn't used anything like this before. This was new. Different.
Their routine was changing. Good.
Change meant new opportunities to find holes in their security measures or shift schedules. And holes meant new opportunities to escape.
Hei let the guard lead him out of the room, counting his steps as they guided him down the hall to whatever awaited him today.