AN: So sorry this took forever to write/upload. I blame classes! I made it longer to make up for the lateness and hopefully you guys like it! Let me know how I'm doing and Review!

Disclaimer:I do not own Pacific Rim.

The cold night air crept into Mako's coat as she pushed away from the crowded train and onto the platform. The ride had been short and uncomfortable, but at least she knew she hadn't been followed. Briefly she wondered if her father had sent Satoru after her, but quickly dismissed the notion. She couldn't imagine the second in command would stoop so low as to be called a babysitter. Stretching, Mako relished the few moments of freedom before the bodies of men and women rushing around the station bore down on her. Moving listlessly, she walked past them and onto the streets of Tokyo. The city was buzzing with throngs of people, inhabitants of another world after dark. From the street kids only interested in childish rebellion to the more hardcore gangsters who prowled the city at all hours, Mako could see this world unfolding in front of her. She was on the outside looking in and for once, she wanted that life.

The early winter chill bit at her skin and she let out a puff of warm air. The swirl of her breath rose slowly till it dissipated and she was once again alone on the sidewalk. Distantly she heard the buzzing of a phone in her pocket. When she picked up, the voice on the other end was already yelling.

"-dare you leave in the middle of dinner!"

Mako sighed. "Satoru…"

But he wasn't listening. "The boss is furious! You have to take responsibility, Mako. They think it's a sign of how the clan works! This meeting was held in your honor-"

"If it was meant to honor me, why do I feel so insulted?" Mako sneered into the phone. People passing gave her curious looks and she knew what she must look like to them. Out on the street in nothing but a sleek black dress and heels. Prostitute, they whispered behind her back. She could almost laugh at the irony.

She thought back to earlier, the smug face of Tatsuo Makita, captain of the city's police department, smirking at her from across the room and her father scolding her for trying to avoid him. Why did he want her to meet him so bad? "Because," he had hissed as he gripped her arm. "You are my daughter; the daughter of this yakuza."His eyes were harsh and unrelenting. "We are going to need Makita. His service could mean the future of our clan." He dropped her arm with reluctance. "But it comes with a price."

Mako scoffed, loud enough for Satoru to hear. "Is this how the clan treats their own kind?"

Satoru was quieter now. "Nakamura-sama is doing what's best for you, Mako. If it isn't Makita today, then it'll be someone else tomorrow." Mako shook her head, thinking back to that eight year old child running up and down the city streets, yelling for help. A small red shoe trembling in her hands. Lost. And then in the midst of her struggle, a gentle hand and a warm smile reaches out to her. Sensei wouldn't have done this to me, she thought angrily.

"If you want to be part of this family, you know what you have to do." Satoru's voice rang in her ears even after Mako cut him off.

_/\\_

The warehouse was a lot grimier than Mako remembered. But maybe that had more to do with the low lighting than anything else. Being the size of a gym, the place wasn't anything spectacular or new, it was simply the basement level of an old manufacturing building used on occasion for local gang fights. Higher up gang members like in the Nakamura syndicate would never be caught dead in these seedy places, which made it the perfect escape.

Mako was still wearing the dress and heels when she arrived. She made careful note to wrap her coat tighter across her chest and tried not to attract too much attention. Gang affiliations meant little here unless you were a boss yourself. Looking around, Mako recognized a couple kobun from her gang, but they wouldn't dare approach her. She wasn't a traditional member, but she was still Masao's daughter. And if there was one thing you didn't do, it would be to mess with the boss' kid, even in a place like this.

There must have been an exciting match going on because no one approached Mako at all. A loud crunch to the side brought even more cries of excitement. She could smell blood and sweat hanging off everybody, especially those surrounding the next fight. She was just about to join them when she caught a few curses slurred in rough accents behind her. Turning around, she saw a pair of blonde heads chatting excitedly by the makeshift bar. Their statuesque figures towered over everyone around them. Mako grinned for the first time in a long time. Kaidanovsky.

Hurrying over to them, Mako reached out to tug on to the woman's shoulder when a polished fist lashed out from her touch and landed squarely in Mako's chest. She didn't even remember hitting the floor and when she opened her eyes, she was staring up into the laughing eyes of Aleksis.

"Comrade Mori," He greeted warmly whilst lifting her up. Rubbing her chest where Sasha had hit her, Mako was not looking forward to the sore bruise she'd get in the morning.

Sasha only smirked and rested a hand on Mako's shoulder. "You are lucky I was drunk. If you had showed up three vodkas ago, I would not have missed!" Instead of retorting, Mako couldn't help but smile and reached around Sasha's neck, hugging her tightly. The familiar smell of alcohol and fur welcomed her and she felt tears she didn't know she still had prick the corner of her eyes. It was like coming home.

When they pulled apart, Sasha took in her clothes. "I did not know there was a dress code."

Mako chuckled. "I didn't have time to change. What are you doing in Tokyo?"

"We are on our way to Moscow for briefing. I have a new assignment with an old partner," Sasha picked up a shot glass next to her and downed it in seconds. For someone who claimed to be drunk, Sasha was surprisingly stable. No doubt she'd be able to out-drink everyone here, including her skyscraper of a husband. "It'll be good to see the Black Widow again." Mako blinked. It wasn't uncommon for agents to work alongside partners other than their assigned team, but she couldn't recall a time when the Kaidonovskys had been separated. They worked so well together that Mako couldn't understand why they would want to be paired up with anyone else. She wasn't familiar with this Black Widow, but Mako supposed that if they were anything like Sasha she was sure that they'd be an unstoppable force.

Aleksis patted Mako gently on the back. "Then we realized what day it was and stopped by to say…" He produced a mug of beer from behind him and thrust it in Mako's direction. "Happy Birthday!" Slowly, Mako smiled wide and thanked them. Standing there in a dingy basement with a beer in hand and two of the tallest people in the world on either side of her, Mako couldn't imagine a better present.

After the first chug, Sasha winked at Mako over her glass. "So what are your plans for tonight, Mori?"

But before Mako could reply, the cries and cheers from the people watching the fight grew louder, cutting into their conversation. Aleksis threw one look at her, his eyebrows rising slightly.

"Newcomer," he explained as he nodded his head in the direction of the fight. Mako looked from him to Sasha who was smirking again. "He is on a winning streak." Between the heads of the crowd, Mako could only make out the blur of his blonde hair and the strain of his muscles. As she caught a glimpse of his face, she felt a familiar tug at her memories, but she knew that she had never seen this man before.

The corners of her mouth upturned a little as she shrugged off her coat. "Is he?" She turned toward Sasha. "Care to trade clothes?"

_/\\_

The man across from Raleigh was gulping for air. Gone were the cocky movements and insulting remarks from the first punch. Gaijin, he hissed through his teeth when Raleigh's blows met their target. Now he was fighting to stay upright. To be honest, a lot of the men who had stood up to challenge Raleigh were all disappointing, hardly anyone with real fighting experience; just bigheaded crooks that were looking for an easy win against the new guy. What they got was something else entirely.

But it wasn't until the last two rounds that more experienced fighters started showing interest. A small circle of bettors stood off to the side raking in more money than usual and now there was a fairly large crowd gathering around. He had taken his time and saved up his energy with the first few challengers, but now he was slowly losing his patience. He should've waited till the following night before making his move. What good would it do him if his only reason for being here was standing on the other side of the room and had hardly noticed him?

Raleigh remembered when she came in. Her long hair, accented with blue streaks, shielded her face from him as she moved swiftly across the room. He remembered the moment she walked by because that also happened to be the moment that he let his guard down enough for the other guy to sock him in the jaw, resulting in the ugly bruise he was now nursing. She had barely even glanced in the direction of his fight, probably finding more important things to do.

Again the guy swung his fist. Raleigh avoided it easily which seemed to irk the other guy even more, so the next move was just a constant barrage of jabs at him. Each one failed to land. The man's stance now became wider and less sturdy. His feet were shuffling around trying to find balance. Up until this point, Raleigh had been mostly on the defensive, trying to tire him out, but now he surged forward in his opponent's direction. Moving to the side, he hurled three, four punches to the man's ribs. Doubling over in pain, the man clutched his side and in one fluid motion, Raleigh struck the side of his face hard enough to send him flying. The man's body hit the cold ground with a thud. Aside from his groaning, he made no attempt to get up.

Shouts rang out from the crowd, louder than before, and Raleigh was overcome with people grabbing his shoulders and pushing him around in the aftermath of his victory. He ignored their taunts and praise, wondering instead if he had made a mistake in coming here if nothing was going to come of it. After a minute of the sudden excitement, Raleigh saw someone approach the ring, stepping past the crowd until they reached the center.

Her hair was drawn up in a ponytail, bringing her face into focus. It was hard to see details in the dim lighting, but for some reason, Raleigh could see the tiniest of freckles adorning her cheeks and his hands itched to feel them. She wore simple cargo pants and a loose green shirt, but her eyes shined so impossibly bright that Raleigh's attention never strayed from her face. Mako Mori. She lifted an eyebrow at his silence and he threw a charming smile her way.

"You sure you want to do this?" He asked in rusty Japanese, crossing his arms in front of him. "I'm not going to take it easy on you." He was purposefully goading her, making it seem like he was just another cocky asshole out looking for a good time. She couldn't suspect anything about his motives, not yet.

Mako tightened the bandages around her hands and stepped into the circle the crowd had made around the two of them. "Okay… then neither will I." Her words were sharp, but Raleigh's face lit up like she had offered him a compliment. He nodded his head to start.

Mako swiftly moved from her rigid position to stand wide and confident, her arms swinging out on either side of her. But her posture was all wrong. She moved more like a common thug than the trained assassin she was. Why was she pretending? Raleigh saw her hands twitching at her sides in what most people would have thought to be nervousness, but he could see the truth. In Japan, she was only a gang member, maybe just by association. But even so Mako had entered into the Nakamura clan as a nobody. If she was caught doing something suspicious, she would lose the trust of the yakuza she had fought so hard to get in the three years she had been undercover. Game over.

Raleigh took on a more reserved position and came towards her with his fists straight out in front of him. She stayed perfectly still, her eyes never leaving his. When his fist flew close to her face, she didn't flinch. Not even when it came to a stop and hovered in front of her, teasing. Laughing a little, Raleigh was about to draw away when Mako grabbed his forearm, twisted her body and heaved him over her shoulder. His body landed on the ground roughly and the crowd began to snicker. He understood the warning though. She was taking this fight seriously.

Raleigh calmly stood back up. Maybe his job would be a lot easier than he thought.

They went on testing each other, acting and reacting to the other's moves. When he stepped to the side, she'd counter him and when she tried to swing at him, he'd narrowly avoid it. It felt like a dance with no rules. The whole room echoed with the people's shouts, but in the ring, all you could hear was their steady breathing. The noise then faded away into something so raw that Raleigh had trouble adjusting to it. She was starting to revert back to her training. Her moves became more calculated rather than hit and swing. He felt her strength push back against his attacks, but underneath it, Raleigh sensed a vulnerability. A chink in her armor she would never expose. Mako must have felt it too by the way she would back away from him when he neared her. Taking advantage of her hesitation, Raleigh hooked his leg under hers and sent her falling backwards onto the floor. She glared up at him, irritated that she was caught off guard, and Raleigh leaned in, speaking in a low voice.

"What's the matter, Gipsy Danger?" Her eyes grew wide. "Feeling flustered?"

Quickly she reached up, grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him under her, his chest trapped between the concrete and her knee. "How do you know that name?" Mako asked, her annoyance giving way to anger and more importantly, fear. Raleigh said nothing and made no move to push her away. His eyes held no malice, but instead were a mix of mirth and something akin to admiration.

Suddenly Mako was pulled back by one of the bettors, his hand raising hers to the crowd. She had won the match, but with a sinking feeling, Mako realized she had lost something even greater. Sneaking a glance at the kobun from her gang, she saw them giving her weird looks from across the room. She had been so caught up in the moment that she didn't even notice when the fight had turned into a test of skill against skill. She turned to look for the foreigner, but he had gone.

Afterwards, Mako had changed back into her dress and grudgingly shoved her feet back into the damnable heels. "Well done, comrade," said Aleksis as they were leaving. He and Sasha shrugged on their jackets, the fur lining tickling their chins. "He was no match for you."

Mako barely had the energy to smile. "Did he look familiar to you?" They shook their heads no. Mako then decided she couldn't do anything about the man tonight, but she couldn't – wouldn't let him go free. He had exposed her. Somehow, some way he had known what he was doing when he provoked her.

Stopping just as they stepped outside the building, she turned towards the Kaidanovskys. "So," looking at them intently. "What does the Marshall say this time?" At this, both Russians fell silent and Mako looked sick. "That bad?"

"Just a request," Sasha spoke up. "He says to abandon the mission." Aleksis stayed quiet, but Mako knew he would have pleaded with her had he thought that would work.

"You know I can't," Mako said, insistent. "I can finish this on my own."

Sasha didn't look convinced and her manner became cold. "How long has it been since Masao actually trusted you with yakuza intel?" Mako looked away in embarrassment, but Sasha kept on. "While you fight to stay loyal to them, they continue to be a violent threat. Marshall sent you here because he believed you were strong enough to take down the clan. But now I wonder if you came here for something else instead."

"Goodbye, Sasha," Mako said softly and walked off, not looking back. The rhythmic sound of her heels hitting the pavement soothed her as she strode further and further away from the Kaidanovskys, but it did nothing to calm her heart. She rode the train back home, plagued by thoughts of a blue eyed foreigner and the smell of packed snow.