Author's Note: I swear to god, this story is the most disobedient, unruly child I have ever written. I'd only intended for two filler chapters before beginning the "Clash of Red and Black" set, but once again, this story didn't want to listen to me and I ended up writing so much that I had to break it up into three parts instead of two.
Also, Gin absolutely refused to let the POV of this chapter shift to any other character surprisingly. I couldn't do anything about it. To compensate, I'm pretty sure Sherry's POV owns most of the next chapter.
Three Days with Heiji Hattori: Part 2
"Is that it?" Sherry gaped in astonishment. Her face was plastered against the window staring up in awe at the beautiful, Swiss-inspired, rustic-style villa at the top of the mountain they were driving up.
"Yeah, that's Chianti's place," Gin said with a slight smirk. "Just wait until you see the inside though. The outside's nothing by comparison."
"If it was covered with snow in the dead of winter, it would look like something straight out of a Christmas card," she commented idly, not taking her eyes off the wooden villa as the car climbed the last incline and rolled to a stop just before the front porch.
The both of them got out of the vintage vehicle as soon as the engine was turned off and Sherry fell in step behind him as he ascended the steps to the front door, the villa's key already in-hand. He turned the key in the door and heard the distinctive click of the lock opening.
"Alright, we're in," he said. He opened the door and walked inside. "Vodka and I left your motorbike and gear in the garage. You can get there through the door at the end of the hallway just around the corner to your left."
Sherry brushed past him and started walking in that direction when she paused with an appreciative whistle. Gin understood why once he caught up with her. Before turning left, the living room was just before them. The furniture setup and layout was an unusual amalgamation of traditional Japanese décor and Western abstract figures. Everything in the room with an obvious Japanese touch seemed to be either dark green, tan, or white, while everything else in the room was either dark brown or bright orange. The sharp contrast between the styles and colors shouldn't have worked, and yet they managed somehow, creating a room that spoke vividly of the natures of the two people who visited this villa most.
"I had no idea Chianti had such a sense of style," Sherry murmured, impressed.
"Actually, it wasn't Chianti who designed this, but Korn," Gin corrected her.
Her short reddish-brown hair whipped her face, she snapped her head around so fast. "Korn did this?" she said in surprise.
"Naturally," he said with an amused shrug. "It was a long time ago, but Korn graduated from his university with a degree in interior design. You don't honestly expect Chianti would have the patience for this kind of deliberate artistic endeavor, do you?"
"No, I guess not," Sherry admitted. She took in the view of the living room for a moment more before retreating down the hall to the garage door. She left through the door and came back less than a minute later with a small duffle bag over her shoulder. "Where's Chianti's room?" she asked.
Gin jerked his head in the opposite direction of the garage. "All the bedrooms are that way. I don't think any of the doors are locked."
She nodded in thanks. "I shouldn't be too long," she promised and walked past him once more to the opposite end of the villa. Sherry tried a door and when it opened at her touch, she peered inside and then glanced back at him with an amused smile. "Definitely Chianti's room," she said and closed the door behind her.
Alone with nothing but his thoughts for company, a slight frown creased Gin's forehead and from his coat pocket, he withdrew his handkerchief. He carefully unfolded it until the pinkish-white stain he had noticed on it back at the restaurant was revealed to his eyes. He knew it had not been there earlier that morning and the only other time he had used it was when he had wiped the sweat off Sherry's face right after she'd transformed back into an adult. He touched the stain with his finger and rubbed it slightly. It was smooth, but slightly sticky. He pulled his finger away and noticed the color was now present on his skin, faint as it was. He managed to wipe it back off on his handkerchief with difficulty since the substance did not want to come off. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, he brought the stain close to his nose and sniffed. His eyes widened slightly and he drew back. He knew that smell, but why was…?
"I'm all dressed now. Sorry, if I took a while," Sherry's voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts.
He glanced up from his handkerchief and all thoughts of the odd stain fled his mind in an instant. He'd literally forgotten just how good she looked in her motorcycle riding outfit. Sherry was wearing a tight, form-fitting black body suit that showed off and accentuated every single one of her delicious curves and she was resting her helmet on her right hip. It was sinfully hot. And if that wasn't enough, the suit also had a large, scarlet red 'V' that began at the center of her waistline and split up to her shoulders, each of the two solid red lines paving a track across her breasts. Fuck. To hell with the race, he wanted to peel that suit off her supple body right now and fuck her against the wall so hard that Chianti would raise hell at them later for leaving an impression in her wall.
As if she could read his mind, Sherry said firmly, "You can save those perverted thoughts of yours for after we've finished." Only her red-flushed cheeks gave away how much she was turned on by his shameless perusal of her figure. Well, he could wait a little longer for the evening. There was something else that had captured his interest in the mean time.
"Sherry, are you wearing makeup today?"
The blush died down and she looked at him sharply. "Why do you ask?"
He quirked an eyebrow at her. She was oddly defensive for such an innocent query. For an answer, he held up the handkerchief still in his hand and showed her the pinkish-white stain. "This got here when I was cleaning the sweat off your face earlier," he explained.
"Ah, I see," she said. For some reason, she looked relieved. "Yes, I am, but only a bit of foundation and blush. I didn't want the makeup to be gaudy or obvious. I'm glad I succeeded there."
"Ohh?" he hummed, watching her expressions. She didn't appear to be any more forthcoming, so he let the subject drop and stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket. "Anyway, it's a little after 3:30 right now, so we should review the ground rules of this little race of yours before we head out. I don't want to deal with any hospitals because of this."
"Yes, yes, the planned race time is approximately an hour and the primary rule is that on the two-lane roads, neither of us are allowed to occupy the other lane unless we're passing, and even then, neither of us can pass unless we have a good line of sight in order to avoid crashing into other vehicles. The only other rule is that if one of us is caught by the police, then the other isn't allowed to take advantage of it and pull ahead. Although…" Sherry smirked and came up beside him. One of her fingers trailed up his chest and traced the outline of his shoulder. "I don't think I have to worry about you leaving me behind, darling. You can just barely keep your hands off me as it is."
"You're in the mood for some interesting games today, love," he commented, his eyes never leaving her greenish-blue ones.
She giggled mischievously. "What can I say? I'm feeling rebellious. I've been too well-behaved as Ai Haibara." Like a light switch, she changed tone and direction in an instant, thrusting the duffle bag into his arms and walking straight past him. "Well, I'm getting my bike out of the garage. We're not getting any younger just standing around and my time is finite."
A little dazed by the sudden turnaround in behavior, Gin watched her put on the black helmet and walk back to the other end of the house back into the garage. He left her to it and left through the front door, locking it behind him, and descended down the front steps to his own vehicle. He had just reached it when the garage thundered to life and the door slowly retreated backwards along the ceiling. Sherry rolled the motorcycle out and then walked over to the side where a covered panel resided on the wall.
She flipped it open, but then paused, staring at it blankly for a moment before looking over her shoulder at him. "Gin, what's the passcode for the door?"
He tilted his head to the side with a playful smirk. "What makes you think I know it?"
The visor hid her face, but he could still perfectly imagine the deadpan glare she was giving him, especially with her hands on her hips like that. "You couldn't have gotten my bike into the garage without it."
He shrugged in defeat. "Fine, the passcode is 91735*."
"Does Chianti have something against even numbers?" Sherry joked as she punched in the passcode. The garage groaned its way closed.
Gin tossed the duffle bag into the back seat where Sherry's other bag was also located and slid inside while Sherry swung her leg over her motorbike and centered herself. The Porsche rumbled when he turned the key in the ignition and Sherry's Harley roared in response. Since she didn't have to turn around first, she was able to start down the mountain road ahead of him. He wasn't too worried though; their race wouldn't start until after they had both reached the end of the road leading up to the villa.
One three-point-turn later, Gin was finally in a good position to drive down the road after Sherry. He took a quick moment on one of the straights to glance at the sun's position in the sky before returning his eyes back to the road. It was still high and bright with only white cumulus clouds in view, but the sun had already crested the peak into the western sky. It would only descend further from there, but they wouldn't have to worry about driving around in the dark. Gin had made sure of that when he and Sherry were planning out the route at lunch. Upon approaching the end of the drive, he saw Sherry already there waiting for him, the engine idling loudly, and he pulled up along her right side in a rolling stop.
"You sure took your time getting down here," she commented.
"Old cars were made of stronger metals, but it also makes them heavier than newer cars. I'm sure you would prefer that I not spin out going downhill, yes?"
"I suppose your car being damaged would be an unnecessary distraction and I do prefer you in one piece," Sherry taunted.
Amused, Gin pulled out one of his matches and held it aloft outside the window for Sherry's inspection. "I'm going to throw this and when it hits the ground, that's when the race begins."
Sherry gave a nod of acceptance. "Just don't throw it so far that we can't see it."
"Who do you take me for?" he teased and threw the slim bit of wood ahead of them.
They watched, as if in slow motion, the match tumble end over end through the air until at last, the head touched the dark asphalt of the paved road. Tires squealed and rubber burned and Sherry shot ahead first, the motorcycle being lighter and smaller than the car, but Gin was not one to be left behind in the dust for long.
The nearly hour-long race that followed along the winding mountain roads was fast and grueling, the two participants constantly alternating who was in the lead. One could hardly say they were going easy on the other and yet, it was less of a competitive race and more of a flirtatious chase, like the aerial courtship of birds. Though not willing to give up the lead position to the other, neither sped up too far away when they had the opportunity to, even when it would have been to their advantage. In this way, they led each other around the mountainous countryside until at last they found themselves approaching the hotel that Gin had insisted upon using as their end point. With the end in sight, their former playful manner diminished entirely.
The hotel was on the left side of the road with Gin in the lead and only a short two hundred meters before the turn into the parking lot. There was no one coming from the opposite direction on this straight road, but Sherry wouldn't have enough time to pull out to the side and cut in front of him to make the turn, especially not being on the outside edge. He smirked. This win was his. At the last second, he slammed hard on the brake and spun the wheel sharply. The tires screeched in protest, but he still didn't lose control. He distantly acknowledged the revving challenge of the motorcycle behind him, but just as he was halfway through the turn, the Harley's roaring engine grew suddenly louder and his heart nearly stopped dead as he witnessed Sherry's black-suited figure come up along the small inside margin that had opened up between him and the road with the fast turn. The left turn across the finish line was completed by the both of them in one synchronized movement and Sherry shot forward past him once she'd straightened out.
Gin's Porsche fish-tailed slightly before he managed to regain a straight line. Numb shock was coursing through him like glacial runoff despite his heart still racing in furious panic and that cool detachment from his body was what he desperately held onto to park the car and shut off the engine. He sat there for a moment, leaning against the seat and stared blankly ahead, breathing heavily. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears and he glanced almost automatically over at Sherry sitting on her Harley nearby. Her comportment was calm and relaxed and she seemed completely unfazed by what she had just done. That, more than anything, snapped him out of his shock, and hot anger replaced the numbness in an instant.
With his heart still beating a hundred kilometers a minute, Gin threw his seatbelt off and got out of his car. "Sherry, what the hell was that?!" he shouted.
The auburn-haired woman removed her helmet and shook her head before glancing back at him. "You were turning, I saw an opening, and I slipped by you," she said calmly.
"You made a very sharp and risky swerve on the inside edge of that turn," he retorted, slamming the door shut and stalking over to her, towering over her more than usual while she was still sitting on her motorcycle. "If you had misjudged that turn or your tires lost traction, you'd have slipped right under my car and been very badly injured as a best-case scenario."
She set the helmet on the cross-section of the handlebars. "Yet nothing happened, now did it? Like I said, I saw the opening and the room to pull it off, and I did so. And that means…" She slipped her right leg over the bike so that her whole body now faced him and a small smirk graced her lips. "I win."
Gin spluttered, "What? No. Even with that dangerous stunt you pulled, your front wheel still wasn't ahead of the front fender of my car."
Sherry huffed indignantly and crossed her arms. "That's like saying a horse won a race against a human because it's nose stuck across the finish line first. Motorcycles don't even have fenders, so to use that as the standard is ridiculous. However, both vehicles have wheels and my front wheel was ahead of yours when I pulled into this hotel parking lot."
"And of course, you're certain that was the case, you being the official, unbiased referee and all," Gin mocked, leaning forward into her personal space, his hands coming to rest on the motorcycle on either side of her. "As our referee, I would like for you to review the legality of that dangerous and stupid move you pulled in relation to the pre-established rules, or do you not remember that the first one was no passing in the same lane? That inside swerve was within one lane, so you should be disqualified and your supposed win therefore nullified."
Sherry arched an eyebrow at him. "Cute. By that reasoning, you get to win by default." She uncrossed her arms and one hand grabbed a hold of his belt. She pulled and he moved forward into her, his thighs brushing along the inside of her legs. "I had no idea you were so petty," she sighed, her voice just barely audible.
His left hand came up and caught her chin firmly with his fingers. "A win by default, by cheating, or by honest skill is still a win no matter how it came about. All that matters in the end is the result, and I will use any means available to reach my end goal," he murmured.
The very air around them seemed to crackle with unusual energy and their eyes burned into each other. The excitement of the race, even including Sherry's heart attack-inducing swerve at the end, was still pumping fast and furious in their blood. Sherry licked her lips and his eyes traced the motion.
"How pushy," Sherry breathed. "What sane woman would ever willingly put up with you?"
He gave her a salacious grin. "Oh, I can think of one such woman," he purred.
Sherry hummed and her eyes half-lidded, her expression becoming coyer. "Hey, Gin?"
"Hmm?"
"I was thinking… I'd rather skip dinner tonight and move straight on to dessert," she said and Gin didn't have to be a mind reader to know that she didn't mean food.
"I was rather hoping that would be the case," he said, sounding both pleased and amused. "So I took the liberty of booking a room for one night at this very hotel we're in the parking lot of."
"Ahh, so that's why you were so insistent about this hotel being the finish line when we were planning the route at the restaurant. I admire your foresight as always, Gin," she said with an appreciative smile.
He chuckled and moved out of her personal space, picking up her helmet as he did so. "Come on, let's go," he said and walked back to his car, Sherry following right behind him. He opened the driver door and carelessly tossed the helmet into the back, but then glanced over his shoulder at the young woman. "Do you want your adult clothes or your child clothes?"
Sherry brought her hand up to her chin in thought. "The antidote is supposed to last approximately twenty-four hours, but works a half-hour faster for me, so I shouldn't even start to turn back into Ai until around nine tomorrow morning. However, I don't know exactly when we'll be leaving either, so it would probably be safer for me to bring both sets, just in case."
"Very well then." Gin reached over and grabbed both bags from the floor. "Here." He tossed her backpack to her and slung the duffle bag's strap over his shoulder, closing and locking the door behind him.
Sherry snickered. "You look silly carrying a duffle bag like that."
"You really shouldn't try and discourage a man from helping you carry your bags," he warned her playfully. "It might come back to bite you when you really need it."
"It's not my fault you only look natural carrying suspicious-looking briefcases," she retorted with a nudge to his arm. "But I guess you would look even more out-of-place than you already do if you weren't carrying any luggage into a hotel while I was carrying two." She suddenly shot him a piercing look. "That's the real reason, isn't it?"
"That's only half of it," Gin admitted with a shrug. "As for the other half…" He gave her a sideways glance. "Do I have to have a reason to do something nice for the woman I love?"
A pink tinge suffused Sherry's cheeks and she turned her head away from him. "I never said you had to have one," she muttered in embarrassment, but he felt her arm wrap around his and hug it to her. Gin grinned to himself and led the way up to the front doors of the hotel.
They stepped through the automatic sliding doors into the hotel lobby and the worker at the front desk greeted them. "Welcome sir, ma'am, do you two already have a reservation?
"Yes, it should be under Jin Haido," Gin answered. He could feel Sherry's amused gaze drilling a hole in his face. It wasn't a clever alias by any means, but really, who would be looking for them way out here?
The woman at the counter moved to the computer and started searching the reservation list. "Ah, here we are. Jin Haido for one night?"
"That's right," he confirmed.
"It looks like you've already paid for the room in advance. May I see your ID?" she asked.
Having expected this, Gin pulled out his wallet and gave her what appeared to be a blank piece of paper. "Will this suffice?"
The receptionist took it and Sherry gasped quietly. "Gin, what are you doing!" she whispered in alarm, squeezing his arm tightly.
"It's alright, Sherry," he whispered back reassuringly.
"But there was nothing-!"
"Alright, your ID checks out," the woman said, instantly halting Sherry's frantic whispering, and gave it back to him. "You will be staying in room 602. Here are your room keys and have a pleasant stay."
Gin gave her a faint smile. "Thank you, miss. Come, Shimi."
Sherry looked like she wanted to both protest the name and ask him how he'd gotten away with presenting a blank piece of paper as an ID, but she kept her tongue in check at least until they were safely in the elevator. "Shimi?" she asked archly.
"It's your own name. I combined the first character from your first name and the first character of your last name, that's all," he explained.
Mollified that he hadn't just assigned her some random name (she didn't like that for some reason), she proceeded to the next question on her mind. "There was nothing written on that paper you gave to the receptionist at the front desk, so why did she think you gave her a proper, legitimate ID card?"
"Ah, that's easy," he said and pulled his wallet back out. "Shortly after you left, the Organization discovered this curious little invention in the possession of one of the aliens going through Customs and it was confiscated."
He withdrew the object in question and passed it to her for observation. "We don't know what it's actually called, but we're currently calling it 'psychic paper' because it appears to read the mind of the person who sees it and present to them exactly what they expect. So, when I presented this psychic paper to the woman at the front desk, she expected to see a valid ID, so she did. Of course, it doesn't actually read a person's mind, but it probably employs some mild form of hypnosis because it doesn't work on the skeptical or those who know the secret of the psychic paper."
"Impressive…!" Sherry said with an approving air. "Something like this would work on most people that you run into without needing to have a stash of ten or fifteen IDs to keep your true identity a secret. I take it this isn't the original?" she asked as she handed the psychic paper back to him.
"No, the original still lives in your Research and Development Lab's active project storage," Gin said as he put the psychic paper back into his wallet. "Those guys have been enthusiastically trying to replicate the effects ever since they got their hands on it and this is one of the first working prototypes that they've finally managed to produce. It's a bit of a hassle having to report my observations back to them every time I use it, but I'm used to it."
As an executive field agent, this was hardly the first time the R&D team had given him prototype alien tech to experiment with, as Sherry well knew. The elevator light dinged, signaling their arrival to the correct floor and the pair of them set off down the carpeted hallway to their assigned room.
"So the psychic paper was discovered at Customs, but how did you guys find it? Did an alien actually try and use it as legal identification to get through?" Sherry asked in disbelief.
"As a matter of fact, they did. It's possible the fake ID would have been discovered as a blank piece of paper anyway, given the natural skepticism of the staff that work in Customs." He let out a soft snicker. "But this alien had the worst possible luck and ended up being inspected by Rum."
"Rum? As in the Number Two member of the Organization?"
"Yeah, sometimes he likes visiting Customs in-person and assisting with inspections. I think that must have been the first department he worked in for the MiB before he became what he is now. Anyway, this alien was screwed the moment he was directed to Rum's line."
Sherry looked at him in confusion. "Why though?"
"Haven't you heard the rumors about Rum, Sherry?" Gin asked with a teasing smile. "The ones about him being a strongly-built man, an effeminate-looking man, or an old man?"
She scowled at him. "Yes, I've heard them. I've had lower-ranking people ask me if you were Rum based on those descriptions, but I told them they were being stupid because everyone knows that Rum has…" Her eyes slowly widened in realization. "a prosthetic eye…"
"Correct, so ocular-based tricks don't work on him. The good eye may still be fooled, but not the prosthetic one. He saw straight through the psychic paper's 'magic' in an instant."
They reached their designated room just as he finished speaking and he used the key to open the door. The light blinked green and he opened the door, allowing Sherry to enter before him.
"A luxury suite? You sure went all out on this retreat, didn't you?" Sherry said with a cursory glance around the hotel room as she stepped inside and dropped her backpack on the floor against the wall.
"Hmph, money's no issue," Gin said with a smirk and followed her, letting the heavy door close behind him and setting her duffle bag next to her backpack.
"Oh, look!" she exclaimed suddenly and ran into the bedroom in the next room over.
He followed her at a more leisurely pace and saw quite plainly what had captured her attention. The window was actually a door that led out onto a balcony and Sherry was already opening it to step out onto the veranda. He held himself at a distance back, able to see what she could just fine from where he stood. There was nothing but vast green forests among the rolling mountain crests as far as the eye could see and the early setting sun cast the landscape in the color of brilliant, orange fire. It was a beautiful view, to be sure, but it paled in comparison to the enchanting beauty before him. With the sun before her, it cast her profile in shadow and bathed her in the dying sunlight. Her lovely reddish-brown hair caught the rays and shone like liquid gold. The amber color perfectly matched the Oloroso variant of the wine she was named for, a naturally dry, high-strength, full-bodied sherry with a light sweetness borne after maturation. Truly, her name was well-chosen. No other alcohol reflected his beloved so poignantly in color and spirit.
Gin approached her then until he was standing right behind her. Sherry turned on the spot as if he'd called her by name and she gazed up at him through coy, half-lidded eyes. A game.
He held his left hand out to her, palm up. An invitation. A dance.
Graceful and delicate as autumn leaves swirling in the wind, she placed her hand into his. Her touch was feather-light and barely present, as if a swift breeze would send it flying away once more.
His fingers closed around her proffered hand and held it tight, but just enough to keep her grounded. To give her an anchor, but never to cage her. He drew her forward, leading her from the balcony into the darker interior, bringing her back into his sheltering arms. Come tomorrow, the wind storm would wrench her away once more, but for now, unless she chose to fly away on her own, he would never let her go.
Sherry's free left hand reached up and caressed his cheek, his jaw, the back of his neck, drawing herself up and pulling him down. His own free hand slipped around her waist, splayed across the small of her back, and traced her spine up to her shoulders, her neck, her jaw, drawing her up and lowering himself down. Their lips met, sweet and soft, an innocent kiss to start, but such sweetness couldn't last. Sherry had warned him she didn't want to play nice today. Her tongue brazenly flicked out and licked his lips, testing for an opening.
His lips parted for her by the smallest fraction and she plunged straight in. Her tongue caressed the length of his and the dark cavern of his mouth and he could feel her slowly-mounting desperation grow. He could feel it in the insistent tugging of her right hand in his left, demanding its freedom to not be held back. Per her wish, he released it and her hand flew straight to the back of his head, nestling and twining her fingers into his long hair. At the same time, her left leg came and wrapped around his leg, just at his calf to start, but it was slowly sliding its way higher. She was trying to climb him, but he couldn't have that just yet.
With his left hand no longer occupied, he brought it around her back, stroking his fingers along the planes of her shoulder blades in preparation. In one singular fluid movement, he pressed his fingers forcibly down the length of her spine and shoved his tongue past her lips into her own mouth, giving no quarter. Sherry moaned both from the rougher physical stimulation and the sudden loss of control, even more so when he squeezed her round cheeks. She loved being in control, but not quite as much as she loved being overpowered and dominated by him, and Gin was more than happy to provide that for her.
Sherry was now putty in his hands and he could easily move them forward to the next phase, but there was something he wanted to check first before they got too far along and he forgot everything except their shared carnal desire. His left hand snaked up along her back, pressing in all the right places to elicit little muffled gasps of delight, and cupped the other side of her face. Sherry broke away, panting heavily due to his deliberate ministrations. She'd been unable to reclaim the air she'd lost through nasal inhalation alone.
"Ready?" he asked once her breathing sounded less desperate.
"Yes," she said in a low, breathless whisper, her sea-blue eyes burning with lust.
This time, he didn't give her the chance to act first. He dove into her mouth, attacking her lips with fervor and Sherry was not one to remain idle in response to such a display. She fought back and while her one hand remained in his hair, the other slid from his neck down his back, drawing her body even closer to his, pressing her breasts insistently against his chest.
Her ploy succeeded in distracting him from his goal, but not enough to forget it. While one hand tended to her soft mounds, the other carefully explored the planes of her face with his fingers and discovered something unusual. He had felt the fine powder of blush on both cheeks, but the smooth, stickiness of foundation was only on her left cheek, a small streak of it just to the left under her eye. Curious about the oddity and with Sherry already drowning in his kiss, he slowly eased his right hand up her cheek to where the foundation resided. Knowing he only had a brief moment, he dashed his thumb firmly against the spot.
"No!" Sherry shrieked and jerked back. Her hands fell away and she tore out of his arms, turning away from him before he could see her face properly.
Gin didn't move a muscle despite the twitching urge to grasp her shoulders and haul her back into his arms. Her left arm came up and drew level with her face. She seemed to be touching it gingerly to judge from the motions he could see from behind her. Her hand eventually closed into a fist and her head dipped down in a defeated posture.
"Sherry, what do you feel you need to hide from me with makeup?" he asked her gently.
A heavy sigh escaped her and her shoulders hunched forward. Her left hand opened up once more and she pressed her palm against her cheek, removing the rest of the foundation from her skin, but still not letting him see. Her hand fell to rest at her side once she'd finished and she turned slowly, revealing a thin, faint scar across her left cheek, matching the one across his own, and Gin's eyes widened in shock. He knew exactly how she'd gotten that scar because he was the one who gave it to her.
"That's where my gun marked you that night on the roof of the Haido City Hotel," he said. He knew because he had seen the other scars: the ones on her thigh, her arm, and her shoulder. "It wasn't there when I last saw you."
Sherry ducked her head, avoiding his gaze, and absent-mindedly fingered the thin white line. "I first hid it to keep the kids from asking questions," she said quietly. "But I also hid it from you because I knew how much it would upset you that you'd hurt me. You were upset enough when you found the other bullet scars on my body from that night, but you felt better that they were all relatively easy to hide if I wanted. I didn't want you to think that I thought any less of you for leaving me with one on my face too."
"Sherry…" he sighed as he approached her. Now it was she who remained still and watched him.
He reached out to brush some of her short reddish-colored strands of hair behind her ear, gently caressing the white line across her cheek on the way to the crook of her neck. His other fingers snagged those of her right hand and guided them upwards to lay across his own facial scar.
"Now we match," he said simply, turning and kissing her palm then leaning down and kissing her scar.
"Gi~in!" she protested, but a light blush painted her cheeks and she was smiling when he pulled back to get a good look at her face.
"What's wrong? Too affectionate for you?"
"No, it's not, it's…!" she stammered and her blush deepened right before she muttered her next words, "… too tame."
The corner of his lip curled upward into a sly grin. "Ohh? Is that so? Let's do something about that then."
The psychic paper comes from Doctor Who. It's been a while since I've watched any of it though, so I don't remember if they explained how it works or if I got the methodology correct, but that's what I'm using for this.
In hindsight after I was going back and rewatching episodes, I found it odd that, despite both Gin and Sherry being shot by a gun across the left cheek, only Gin came away with a scar from the encounter, so I decided to give Shiho a matching one that's easy for her to hide. Since I came to this conclusion after some of the earlier chapters were already written, I had to do a bit of retconning to fit it in.