September 19th, 1996
September 19th, 1996
The international airport hummed with a frenetic energy, a pulsating mass of bodies flowing in all directions. It was as crowded as Mong Kok, maybe even Beijing. She’d only been there once on a business trip—and that was enough. The mainland had a way of leaving a bad taste in her month. She had no desire to return anytime soon.
Was her associate coming from the mainland? She hadn’t bothered to ask for a name in her rush. The sign she clutched just read “CID”, as if her sloppy last minute writing was enough to identify someone.
God, the airport sucked.
Everywhere, people dragged their lives in oversized luggage, like walking targets for any opportunistic crook. There was an undercurrent in her mind of perceived anxiety that came from knowing their belongings were just a moment away from being stolen. And yet, most of these people wandered blissfully unaware. To be fair, most of the luggage would be lost somewhere between the plane and baggage claim instead of outright being stolen. The whole place felt like a maze designed to make you feel small and insignificant. Mikoto preferred minimalism. After all, what was the point in owning so many things that others wanted to steal? Life was simply less complicated with less things in it.
Whatever. Mikoto had bigger things to focus on than the uselessness of this place. She hoped whoever they’d assigned to her would pack light. She didn’t need some half-witted tourist clogging up her already overloaded schedule. She needed someone practical, someone who was there to work—not someone on vacation. But then again, if her partner were from the mainland… well, she didn’t exactly hold out much hope.
Mikoto may have been born in Japan, but she thanked whatever gods there were that it was the Brits who controlled Hong Kong and not the CPP. Independence—now that would be a beautiful thing. Maybe someday, but not today. Not while the world was watching with hungry eyes.
Just as she placed the hastily scribbled “CID” sign down, Mikoto’s gaze was drawn to a woman walking past. For a moment, time itself seemed to falter to a freeze as her eyes locked on long, silken blonde hair that seemed to catch the faint glow of the overhead lights. Her pupils traced the elegant curve of the woman’s cheek, following its subtle dip into her small pointy chin. She looked like a model. The flawless line of her face, the sharp angles that almost felt sculpted by some unseen artist. God, she was beautiful.
Then, as time stumbled back into motion, the woman’s eyes—those bright, star glinted, auburn eyes—met hers. Mikoto’s heart lurched in her chest. Shit. She fought to tear her attention away, but it was impossible. There was something magnetic about the woman, a presence that drew you in even as it made you feel completely out of place.
Her lips were plump, naturally so, the kind of lips that didn’t need lipstick, her nose small and perfectly shaped with a straight bridge. Not a blemish in sight. It was as though she hadn’t even bothered with foundation. How the hell could anyone look like that?
Mikoto snapped her attention back to reality, shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts that had no business being there. Focus, Mikoto. She didn’t have time for pretty girls. She was supposed to be meeting someone—someone much older, more experienced, surely. That would be the only way she’d survive whatever mess was about to unfold. Maybe she should’ve worn her uniform, but damn it, if this person was worth their paycheck they’d figure it out.
She glanced at her watch. Nine fifty. Forty minutes after the meeting time. She was ten minutes later, so had she missed them then? But where could they have gone? Was she even in the right place?
Before she could think any further, the woman she’d just been staring at—fuck—was suddenly standing in front of her, a wide, confident smile playing across her lips.
Mikoto froze, her heart skipping a game of jump rope. The rush of blood to her face was immediate—God, she’d been caught staring. She recoiled instinctively, the sudden motion too much for her to control. In the process, she nearly tripped over her own feet, choking on her own saliva as it went down the wrong pipe.
This is it, she thought. What a way to make an impression.
Her face burned. She hoped the woman hadn’t noticed, but it was hard to hide the fact that she’d just made a fool of herself. Some detective she was, fumbling around like an idiot in front of someone who was probably far too used to getting attention. She steadied herself, quickly dusting off her coat, hoping the awkwardness wouldn’t stick. After a moment, she forced herself to meet the woman’s gaze, praying she wouldn’t give away how flustered she really was.
“Sergeant Misaka Mikoto, I presume?” The voice was sweet, breathy, almost teasing. She tilted her head slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Mikoto blinked, caught off guard, her mind scrambling to catch up. “Where? You…?” She didn’t mean she was Mikoto—because, clearly, she wasn’t. But the fact that this woman knew her name and rank meant one thing: this was the person she was supposed to meet. She stammered, trying to get the words out, but they tangled together. “So you, as in her, the one that’s looking for me, who’s Mikoto. You’re not me, I’m me.”
The woman’s smile widened as she took a step closer, her eyes gleaming with playful amusement. “Ahhh, are you sure I’m not Misaka Mikoto?” She feigned surprised, but the look in her eyes made it clear she knew exactly what she was doing.
“No! I mean yes! I’m…” Mikoto’s voice cracked, then faltered into a pathetic whisper, the weight of her embarrassment pressing down on her.
The blonde giggled, stepping back with a playful flourish. “Yes, yes. You’re Mikoto, I’m just teasing.”
Mikoto blinked rapidly, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but the heat creeping up her neck wasn’t going away anytime soon. She cleared her throat, still flushed. “R-right. Right.” She forced her focus back onto the situation. This wasn’t the time for her to fall apart. Get it together. “And what does that make you?” She paused, looking the woman up and down, trying to sound casual despite the knot in her stomach. “Who, I mean…”
“Shokuhou Misaki, Interpol’s secret angel division,” she said, striking a pose with dramatic flair, like something straight out of an idol show or Sailor Moon, complete with a sideways victory sign and a wink.
Mikoto hesitated, blinking. “Is… this a prank?” She rubbed her eye, her mind racing. No way there was a “secret angel division.” Especially with an operative this ridiculously attractive. Someone’s messing with me. Interpol rarely got involved in anything beyond monitoring, screening, compiling data, and helping global forces coordinate. This didn’t add up.
“Eh? Don’t be silly, I’m here to meet you Sergeant Misaka~,” Misaki said, swaying her hips as she leaned forward, touching her lips with a playful gesture.
Mikoto gulped, trying to remain composed despite her growing confusion. “Interpol doesn’t have a ‘secret angel’ whatever thing,” she muttered, tugging at the collar of her black-and-white striped t-shirt.
Misaki pouted mockingly, leaning in even closer. “Doesn’t it?” She winked again, pointing to the emblem on her short-sleeve sailor-style blouse, where the familiar Interpol crest was prominently displayed.
Mikoto stared at it, her voice caught in her throat. “That. That is certainly the Interpol crest… emblem… thing. Ahem.” She cleared her throat and straightened her posture, trying to regain her composure. There was a strange chill creeping up her spine, but it wasn’t just the logo on the luxury clothing—it was the fact that Misaki wasn’t wearing a shirt, or at least it didn’t look like she was under that little short-sleeve blazer. And damn, the woman was endowed. Mikoto wasn’t some pervert, but the way her figure pressed against her fabric… it was hard not to notice.
Misaki stepped closer, her heels clicking softly on the floor as she leaned into Mikoto, looking up at her with a serene, almost innocent expression. “You don’t think… I’d lie to you, would you now?” Her voice softened further, almost a whisper, as her plush lips curved into a pout. The effect of her gaze was suffocating, like it was pulling Mikoto in with her big puppy dog eyes. It felt like she was being fucked with to infinity and beyond.
Mikoto blinked twice, trying to shake off the sudden fog of her thoughts. “Uh… N-no. No! I mean, hey.” She almost forgot to breathe. The sound of her pulse seemed to echo in her ears, drowning out everything else for a moment. “Mi…saki, was it?”
“That’s me,” Misaki whispered, her voice sultry as her eyelids fluttered shut, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. As she pressed even closer, Mikoto felt her breath catch, the proximity overwhelming.
“I—uh—I like your hat,” Mikoto stammered, desperately trying to find something, anything, to focus on other than the sensation of Misaki’s body so close to hers. She gestured weakly to the small white beret perched atop Misaki’s head, trying to break the tension.
“Oh?” Misaki blinked, then straightened up, the playful grin never leaving her face. “I like yours too,” she said, eyes lingering on the oversized black cap Mikoto wore.”
And that’s when it happened. Mikoto, caught off guard, took a misstep, and before she could react, her legs gave out, sending her crashing to the ground with a small thud accompanied by a yelp. Her mind spun, her thoughts a dizzying blur as a few travelers passing by stared, their expressions ranging from concern to curiosity.
The embarrassment hit hard as Mikoto scrambled to push herself up, hoping to salvage what little dignity she had left. Misaki, ever the picture of composed grace, barely reacted, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as she watched the detective fumble to regain her footing.
“Smooth,” Misaki said with a wink, completely unfazed by the spectacle she had caused.
Mikoto’s face flushed bright red as she hurriedly stood, brushing off the dust, trying her best to pretend it hadn’t just happened. God, this is going great.
As Mikoto scrambled to regain her composure, she realized that this partnership might not be as straightforward as she had hoped. Misaki’s charm, her borderline absurd confidence, and her apparent disregard for Mikoto’s discomfort were disarming. Every word, every move seemed deliberately calculated to throw Mikoto off balance, yet there was something undeniably magnetic about her presence. As much as Mikoto wanted to dismiss her as a distraction or an overconfident novice, the truth was, she was taken aback by her, and she might just need her yet. This case wasn’t just some routine bust—it was a high-stakes operation with ties to powerful, dangerous organizations that spanned borders, ideologies, and decades of conflict. Mikoto wasn’t entirely sure though, whether she should be relieved or terrified that her partner was someone so… out of left field. Someone more suited for Vogue magazine.
The uneasy tension between them simmered beneath the surface, with Mikoto caught between an instinct to distrust and the nagging feeling that they were in over the heads. She knew that in this line of work, you couldn’t get close to anyone, especially someone who could potentially betray you or throw you under the bust. Yet, there was a strange pull—Misaki was enigmatic, but alluring, and as much as Mikoto tried to hold onto her skepticism, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was just another challenge to face head-on, something that might force her to adapt or risk falling behind. And just as she was about to speak again, Misaki’s teasing smile flickered into something softer, a brief moment of seriousness in her eyes. Mikoto really wasn’t sure what game she was playing. The clearly not police regulated uniform, the saucy demeanor, and beauty enough to infiltrate any organization and charm them. Might, if true, this angels division be one rooted in espionage then?
“Are you—” Mikoto began, but was abruptly cut off.
Mikoto could have sworn there was a flicker of sincerity beneath the playful exterior of her smile. But before she could voice her questions, Misaki leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to something quieter, more deliberate. “Look, Mikoto,” she began, the teasing tone slipping just enough to reveal the edge of someone who had seen far more than her fair share of the world. “I get it. You think I’m just some… distraction, right? Some glamorous agent sent to throw you off your game. But trust me, you need me. This case? It’s above your pay grade, above anyone’s pay grade.” Her eyes locked with Mikoto’s, and for a split second, it wasn’t playful at all—it was real. “If we don’t get ahead of this, we’re both going to be nothing more than pawns in a much bigger game.”
Mikoto hesitated, torn between pushing her away and acknowledging the truth in Misaki’s words. She had worked with unreliable partners before, but this felt different—more dangerous, more intense. “Fine,” Mikoto muttered, her voice tinged with exhaustion. “But you’re not gonna make this easy, are you?” She crossed her arms, her guard still up but her curiosity starting to break through the walls she so carefully built. Misaki shrugged, a small, knowing smile appearing at the corner of her lips.
“Who said anything about easy?” she replied with a wink. “If you want easy, this is the wrong business.” Misaki’s eyes gleamed with an unsettling mix of mischief and resolve. “But I can promise you this: you won’t be doing this alone. You might not like it, I can tell by looking at you, and hell, I’m probably going to drive you crazy, but we’ll get the job done. All I ask is that you just… trust me a little, Mikoto.” Her voice dropped, barely above a whisper, as if everything had just sunk in all at once. “Because this isn’t just about drugs. It’s about something far worse. Something that could blow the whole region wide open.”
Mikoto met her gaze, unsure if she was being manipulated or if Misaki was being honest. But something in the way Misaki said it, something in the way she didn’t look away, made Mikoto pause. Maybe, just maybe… “Alright,” Mikoto said finally, her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of caution. “Let’s see if you can back that up.”
~~~
Mikoto shifted from foot to foot, her eyes darting back and forth between the sleek black Toyota Crown parked at the curb and the small mountain of luggage Misaki had accumulated. Jesus Christ. She could barely believe it. Is this even all hers? Misaki, ever the picture of effortless grace, was already at the trunk, smiling brightly as she flicked her hair back and casually dropped a hand on one of the suitcases. Mikoto’s brain short-circuited for a moment, the thought of loading all that stuff into the trunk was making her stomach churn. The car, sleek and unassuming, was one of the more popular sedans on the market—perfect for a low-key officer like herself, but now, with Misaki’s luggage? I can already hear the creaking of the suspension. Provided it would even fit…
“All of this? Really?” Mikoto’s voice came out sharper than she intended. Her eyes widened in disbelief as Misaki began shifting through the pile with all the casualness of someone packing for a weekend getaway. Or rather, a multiple weekend getaway. Mikoto clenched her fists, her patience thinning. This is how she travels? She packs like she’s moving in for good. The thought of it was almost comical except for the fact that Mikoto was the one who’d have to deal with this ridiculous mess.
“I know it seems like a lot,” Misaki chirped, smiling that irritating, radiant smile. “But a girl’s gotta have options, right?” She bent down, attempting to shift one suitcase after another, each one heavier than the last, and Mikoto could feel her temper rising. She’s packing for a bloody fashion show, not a mission.
Mikoto turned away, pacing a little to try and work off the rush of frustration. God, why do I get stuck with the diva? Her mind raced as she imagined the pile of bags swallowing up not just her trunk, but her backseat and maybe even the top of the car, a grim preview of the awkward silence and uncomfortable, protracted moments that would follow once they were in the car. She let out a sharp breath, feeling the nerves kick in. If this is how she travels, what’s it going to be like on the case?
“Hey,” Mikoto finally snapped, half-turning to her. “Can you get this into the trunk, or should I just drive us straight to the hotel and leave you here?” Her voice was laced with sarcastic venom, but Misaki just giggled, like it was all a joke, and tossed another large bag in Mikoto’s direction. The contents of the trunk now looked like they might explode at any given moment. Mikoto rubbed her forehead. I’m going to need more than a few dumplings to deal with this.
With one last defeated sigh, Mikoto approached the trunk, yanking it open further to shove in yet another piece of luggage. Her fingers brushed against Misaki’s hand as they both tried to fit one of them in. The proximity sent an odd shiver up Mikoto’s spine. What the hell is she doing to me? She was a damn professional. She should’ve been concentrating on the mission, not on the distracting presence of this unnerving woman.
As the last bag finally found its home crammed among several others in the backseat, Mikoto slammed the door shut, forcing a strained smile. “All set,” she muttered, her voice tight. She couldn’t help but feel like she was sinking deeper into some kind of absurd nightmare.
Misaki beamed, completely unbothered by the chaos she’d caused, and slid into the passenger seat of the Crown with that same carefree confidence. Mikoto slammed the door behind her, and the air between them was thick with tension. How long was this thing going to last given all that? She gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly as she slid into the driver’s seat, the engine purring to life beneath her. Just don’t say anything stupid, Misaki. For God’s sake, don’t be so… charming.
With a huff, Mikoto pulled into the street, the weight of Misaki’s presence already bearing down on her. She was sure this would be the longest drive of her life.
It was now 10:30 AM, and Mikoto maneuvered the car, despite having no access to her rear window, through the road bordering mostly empty stretches of land between the airport and city. The early morning mist hung in the air, and the city’s skyscrapers loomed far in the distance. The silence in the car was broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional sound of speeding automobiles, but otherwise, it was the calm before the storm that was the day ahead.
Misaki, seemingly unfazed by the quiet, leaned back in her seat, staring out the window with a thoughtful look. After a few moments of silence between them, she spoke up, breaking the stillness.
“You know,” Misaki mused, her voice light and carefree, “they really should build a Disneyland here. I mean, it could be just like the one in Tokyo. Think of all the tourists they’d attract! It’d be perfect.”
Mikoto blinked, glancing at Misaki for a moment. She hadn’t expected that kind of suggestion. Disneyland? In Hong Kong? In the middle of this concrete jungle? Little bits of empty land be damned. She scoffed inwardly, but Misaki seemed so sincere, her eyes practically sparkling as she daydreamed about it. Mikoto bit her lip and shook her head, momentarily distracted.
“Disneyland?” Mikoto echoed, voice flat. “Here? With all the shopping malls already taking over the skyland?”
Misaki chuckled at her response, her lips curling into a smile. “Oh, come on. It’d be a hit! The place could use a little magic, don’t you think?”
Mikoto couldn’t help but sigh. Magic? Yeah, they’ll need more than pixie dust to survive this city. She’d had her fill of the bright lights and excess that seemed to swallow Hong Kong whole. And the fact that Misaki was so convinced about it only served to heighten Mikoto’s disbelief. Does she not see what kind of place this is? Or was she being too cynical?
Her thoughts briefly wandered back to Misaki’s odd blonde hair. Japanese, right? It wasn’t surprising; the accent was a dead giveaway. Name too. But the hair? It looked natural, so that was still a puzzle. Maybe she’s mixed… Mikoto glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, trying to figure it out, but Misaki’s expression remained as cheerful as ever. It wasn’t like she was going to ask, though.
But before she could dwell on it any further, they were already approaching the city. Mikoto shifted her focus to the road, trying to ignore the odd feeling that had settled over her. She didn’t have time for distractions, and Misaki seemed to be full of them.
~~~
The Mandarin Oriental hotel came into view, a gleaming tower of luxury, rising majestically among the city’s skyscrapers on the waterfront. Mikoto pulled up to the front entrance, her car making the slow turn into the lobby area. She pinched the bridge of her nose. This is going to be a pain if she has to unload all of this out of her car, she thought. Misaki bounced out of the car like she was a regular at the place, not even looking the least bit intimidated by the lavish surroundings.
They made their way into the lobby, and Mikoto barely had time to take in the marble floors and expensive décor before Misaki, with a smile that could melt steel, approached the front desk.
“Ms. Shokuhou!” the receptionist greeted, her voice chipper. “Welcome back! We’ve been expecting you.”
Mikoto blinked, glancing between Misaki and the receptionist. Back? She’s been here before?
Misaki didn’t seem phased by Mikoto’s confusion. She gave the receptionist a smile that would’ve had anyone else on their knees and said, “I take my reservation for next few… months, indefinitely, if possible is ready?”
Mikoto’s stomach dropped. Months? Indefinitely?
The receptionist’s smile faltered for a moment. “I… I’m sorry, Ms. Shokuhou, but I only see a reservation for three nights?”
Misaki waved a hand dismissively, her tone still overly cheerful. “Oh, that’s just a formality. Interpol must have forgotten to update the reservation. You know how things are.”
Mikoto stood there, barely able to contain her disbelief. She’s telling people she’s with Interpol? Wasn’t that a breach of security? She shook her head, trying to focus. She wasn’t about to let this nonsense slide.
The receptionist blinked, looking completely lost. “Interpol?”
Misaki nodded sagely. “Yes, yes. They handle all the official arrangements as my employer, of course. But I’ll need the suite to be available for a longer stay. Lots of work to do…” She leaned forwardly slightly, her voice lowering, “I’m sure you understand. The work I do isn’t exactly… short-term.”
Mikoto let out a quiet groan, rubbing the back of her neck. This was absurd. Was she even serious? It was like watching a cartoon character—no, a child, pretend to be an international police officer.
The receptionist hesitated. “Well, another problem is that your room was reserved for last week it seems… let me confirm with our manager what’s going on.”
Mikoto crossed her arms, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she waited for the news she already knew was coming: a reservation mix-up. But Misaki wasn’t worried—completely calm in her own little world.
After a few tense minutes, the receptionist came back, her face tight with uncertainty. “I’m afraid we don’t have the suite available for you at all, Ms. Shokuhou.”
Misaki blinked, raising an eyebrow. “What ever do you mean?”
The receptionist squirmed. “I can offer you a room for tonight, but the rest of your stay… we can’t guarantee. And we would be looking at around $7,750 (HK) dollars a night.”
Mikoto’s jaw dropped, her patience beginning to wear thin. Over 7,000 doll hairs? For a goddamn night? “Wait, so that’s it? No suite? What’s the plan now, huh?”
Misaki glanced over at Mikoto, a little smirk playing at the corner of her lips. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to stay with you, Mikoto.” She tilted her head as though it was the most natural thing in the world—sticking out her tongue playfully as she closed her eyes.
Mikoto’s mouth continued to stay ajar. “What? Wait—no, you’re not staying with me!”
But Misaki was already turning to the receptionist, waving her off with a smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll work it out. No problem.”
Before Mikoto could protest further, the receptionist leaned in and said, “Well, we also have a lovely couples suite available, Ms. Shokuhou. It’s the perfect choice for a night on the city. Very private, very luxurious…”
Misaki’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Couples suite?” she asked, her voice teasing. “I didn’t know Mikoto and I had that kind of relationship.”
Mikoto was staring at her in disbelief now. This is insane. Absolutely fucking insane. She could feel her irritation building like a slow boil. Stay with me? A couples suite? That was not the plan. Did she even know the law in Hong Kong? That would be such a bad look for two cops. Not that she necessarily agreed with it. In fact, it was pretty fucked up. She shot Misaki an exasperated look, but she just smiled sweetly, completely unbothered.
Flustered, she looked as though she were about to object, but Misaki just waved her off with a flirtatious laugh. “Just kidding. But honestly, what other options do we have?”
The receptionist, oblivious to Misaki’s playful banter, continued. “Of course there would be a surcharge for the lover’s suite, but we could lower it to the price of a premium single suite given what may be an error on our behalf.”
Mikoto, feeling the conversation slipping entirely out of her control, quickly stepped in. “Wait, no, no couples suite! I’m talking about my apartment. I live in the city. She can stay with me there. It’s… fine. Not a problem.”
The receptionist looked a bit puzzled, clearly not expecting this turn of events, but nodded. “We are deeply sorry for the mix up and hope you’ll choose us again.” Misaki nodded before she continued. “I’ll have your things moved to the address on file for Ms. Misaka, is it? Ms. Misaka’s apartment.”
Mikoto shot Misaki an incredulous look. “You didn’t even ask, and you’re already moving your things in? What are you, some kind of squatter? And what other things do you have? And how does she know my name… and address…? Was this…?”Misaki just smiled, unbothered, as if the situation was already settled in her mind. “Well, Mikoto, I am your partner now, aren’t I?” she said, winking. “I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”
Mikoto couldn’t help but twitch in frustration. “This is going to be the longest stay of my life,” she muttered under her breath as they walked out of the hotel lobby together.
Misaki gave her a playful nudge. “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun! You’ll see.”
As they walked to the car, Misaki shot Mikoto a glance. “By the way, what time are we supposed to report in?”
“45 minutes ago,” Mikoto said, her tone deadpan.
Misaki’s eyes widened briefly. “Oh, well, looks like we’re really starting off on the right foot, huh?” She flashed Mikoto a smile that was far too innocent for the situation.
Mikoto just glared at her, wondering how she’d ended up in this mess, but despite herself, a small, exasperated chuckle escaped her lips. Something told her the chaos was only just beginning.