Chapter Text
You sigh in relief as you shuck your equipment off in your quarters, rolling your shoulders and wincing slightly at the feeling.
You had just gotten back from a mission and you were sporting some new bruises, including one on your shoulder that kind of looked like a hickey.
As you finish putting your gear away, your stomach rumbles and you glance down at it and sigh.
“Time to get some food,” you mumble to yourself as you put on your usual outfit, a dark tank top and some black cargo pants, complete with your combat boots.
Opening your door, you slip out into the hallway and close your door behind you, turning the key till you hear the familiar {snick} of the lock. Satisfied, you slide the key into your pocket and start walking down the hall at a brisk pace, your stomach urging you to walk faster.
You pass a few familiar faces on your way to the mess hall, nodding a greeting here and there while giving others a brief wave. Soon enough, your nose starts picking up some delicious smells drifting down the hallway and you speed up to a jog, not wanting to miss out on some good food.
Pushing the doors open to the mess hall, you breathe in deeply and glance around the room, noting several of your fellow operatives lounging around eating their own meals. You see Jackal, Doc, Azami, Gridlock and Yumiko sitting at various tables. The two Japanese women share a table in the corner of the room as they eat their food and observe everyone else.
You stride over to the serving area, walking past Azami and Yumiko’s table, their quiet conversation in their native language falling silent at your approach. Barely noticing their reaction, you reach the serving counter and ask the cook for your favorite meal, chicken katsudon.
The chef grins and hands you a neatly arranged platter with chicken katsudon, a side of rice and a small summer salad with a side of sweet’n’sour sauce, your all-time favorite.
You thank the chef and take your plate to a table nearby, Azami and Yumiko’s table not too far away. You’re so eager to dig in, you don’t notice the two women staring intently at you as you eat.
Before you break your chopsticks, you bow your head, clap once softly and murmur; “Itadakimasu.” As you take your first bite, you close your eyes and let out an almost inaudible moan at the explosion of taste and texture on your tongue.
You chew slowly, keeping your eyes closed as you bask in your favorite food. A shadow falling across your eyelids causes you to open them, blinking in surprise at the women who tower above you.
Yumiko and Azami stand over you, both with their plates of food in their hands. You glance at them curiously and wait for them to explain their intentions.
They exchange a glance before Yumiko asks in Japanese: “Do you mind if we sit here?” Azami merely glances around the room as if bored, but you know from experience that the woman pays attention to everything even if it seems like she’s not.
You lick your lips, cleaning off any sauce that might’ve smeared across them as you reply in Japanese. “Of course not, feel free to join me, Imagawa-san, Fujiwara-san.” You slide over a bit to provide them room to sit down.
Yumiko grins as she sits down rather close to you and Azami follows suit, albeit at a more comfortable distance.
“Please,” Yumiko murmurs as she settles in, her elbow brushing yours. “Call me Yumiko. No need for formalities when we’re not in a mission, eh Azami?”
The masked woman merely glances at you both before dipping her head slightly in agreement, then proceeding to ignore you both for her food. She has a small bowl of yakisoba and the steam slowly drifting up from it smells heavenly.
You nod slightly before returning to your own meal, intent on eating it before it cools down. Picking up your chopsticks, you take another bite, ignoring the Japanese operators as they also started eating.
Hibana dips her spoon into her bowl, miso soup from the looks and smell of it, and guides it to her mouth, quietly slurping. You miss the look the two women exchange, Hibana’s slightly apprehensive and Azami’s neutrally encouraging.
You’re about halfway done with your katsudon at this point, starting to slow down. You glance up just in time to see Hibana sneak a small spoonful of your rice, grinning teasingly at you when she sees your look of indignation.
Seeing the reaction you give her seems to spur Yumiko on. She slowly puts the spoonful of rice in her mouth, making sure her tongue swirls around the utensil to make sure every last grain is consumed before lightly smacking her lips.
As much as you hate to admit, Hibana’s little display affects you in a peculiar way as you feel a slight heat burning through your ears and shoulders, coiling down into your lower stomach.
You cough slightly, your voice slightly higher pitched than normal. “Excuse me Yumiko-san, Azami-san. I have to use the restroom.” The excuse sounds flimsy even to you and you hurry to get up and flee to the bathroom before either of them decides to question it.
As you turn the corner to the bathrooms, you glance back and just manage to catch the sound of Yumiko chuckling lowly and Azami deftly transferring her spoon to her lips underneath her mask. Ignoring it for now, you slip into the bathroom and lock the door before going to stand in front of the mirror.
Just as you thought, your ears and shoulders are tinged with a pink hue, signifying your subtle blush. You snort at your reflection, turning the faucet on and splashing some cold water over your face and flinching at the sensation.
Your reflection stares back at you, unimpressed, as you talk to yourself in a quiet mumble. “C’mon, really? If that’s all it takes for my crush to get a reaction out of me, then I’m doomed if she ever wants to do anything more.”
You snicker at the absurdity of Yumiko pursuing something more than a professional relationship with you as you dry your hands on the thin paper towels near the sink.
Stopping to glance in the mirror once more, you compose yourself before turning to exit the bathrooms. As you walk down the corridor to the mess hall, you pass Azami who quirks her eyebrow at you and curtly says, “それは私のものではありません。”
- “That’s not mine.”
You frown briefly as you wonder that’s about but mentally shrug and continue to the mess hall. As you step into the hall, you flick your eyes across the room noting how empty it is now and Yumiko is nowhere to be seen.
Your table is clear of any dishes save your own so you figure the other two must have finished their meal and you sit down at your spot. Picking up your chopsticks, you notice a piece of paper that must have been slipped underneath your platter.
Curiosity took over and you pick up the paper, unfolding it to read the kanji neatly scrawled on it.
“2200の私の部屋で会いましょう。”
- “Let’s meet in my room at 2200”
Intrigued, you fold the paper up thoughtfully and tuck it into your cargo pants. Suddenly Azami’s strange sentence makes sense now, she wasn’t the one who wrote the note. Then that must mean Yumiko wrote it…but what did she want to see you in her quarters for, and so late at night?
You ponder your decision as you finish up your meal in silence, unbothered by the few remaining operators in the room. By the time you stand up and put your dishes in the bin by the door, your decision is made.
“Curiosity killed the cat, so let’s see what Imagawa-san has in store for me tonight.”