She walked slowly at first, and then she increased her pace and soon her paces became fast running. Reaching a stop sign, she slowed down and looked around. Everyone’s probably asleep right now, deep in their own slumbers. No shop’s open. She could’ve used some coffee. Maybe a bar’s open somewhere.

No luck, though. Sighing, she went back to her hotel and dumped herself on the bed in her room, wondering if she’ll ever feel the same again.

***

Fuuko woke up the next day to find herself sweating. Eh? Who turn on the thermostat? She sighed and took a bath—cold but refreshing—and went down to the hotel’s restaurant for a breakfast. While eating, she looked around her suspiciously. Could the man somehow be here? No, he couldn’t be… Her agency makes sure of that.

After finishing her breakfast, Fuuko got out of the hotel and into the dark alley where she’d been yesterday. Making sure no one’s there, she opened a compartment from her duffel bag which she had brought with her and whispers into it. “No progress,” she muttered.

“No? No sign of him yet?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“He would turn up soon enough. You’re keeping an eye on him?” The voice was somehow accusing yet soothing.

“Of course!” Fuuko answered, enraged. “You know what you should expect of me.”

“Of course, 162, of course. I’m merely suggesting you keeping a closer look for him. You know he’s the master of disguise. He could be anywhere.”

“I know that,” Fuuko said, sniffling. “I’ll be going now. I’ll tell you if there’s any progress.”

Fuuko closed the compartment and shoved it into her duffel bag. She took out her shades and put it on, careful to come out of the dark alley in case she’ll look suspicious. New York air had never smelled fouler. Fuuko expected that, of course. She’s been living there for about a while. She’s been making a living there for as long as she could remember, and she’d no intention of going back to Japan. Not that she doesn’t miss her friends… She just likes living abroad, and she has a mission to carry on. She couldn’t disappoint the people there.

“Misssss…”

Fuuko turned around sharply and saw a man… tall, thin, lanky—wearing shades and closing half of his face with a muffler, which is really weird, since it’s not cold nor is it winter. She eyed the man suspiciously. Thinking that the man would probably a non-threat guy, she walked slowly toward him, appearing uninterested.

“Are you selling drugs?” Fuuko asked suspiciously.

“No,” the man moaned. He looked insulted. “I’m 980.”

“Oh…” Fuuko look around. “We should talk somewhere else. Here’s not safe. Let’s go there.” Again, for the second time in the day, Fuuko walked into the dark alley and conceal herself from anyone else.

“What have you brought me?” Fuuko asked.

“A message,” 980 said. “000 asked me to send you this message and he also asked me to hand you something. Is there anyone with you right now? Anyone who you left in a shop?”

“No.” A peculiar answer, but Fuuko knew the procedure. “What’s the message?”

“000 wishes you have a rest for a long time,” 980 said.

Fuuko raised her eyebrow. “What did he meant by that?”
“Misss, what I meant is you should have a long, long rest,” 980 said, grinning and stabbing Fuuko with a dart.

“Why, you mother-*$@&ing—”

Before Fuuko could finish her sentence though, she toppled to the ground as the drug in the dart took over her body. Fuuko’s body went rigid, and then she finally stops struggling and faint.

980 closed in his wrist-watch to his mouth. It wasn’t a watch. It was a gadget. He opened a cover that makes that thing looked like a watch and spoke into it. “Completed. 980 asked for the car to be brought into a dark alley where 162 always visited.”

“Very well. Approach the car with cautious and ask assistance for carrying 162 body.”

980 snapped the cover shut and began to put on gloves on his hand when a hand suddenly snapped at his neck. 980 fell to the ground next to Fuuko.

The man who had knocked out 980 carried Fuuko by putting her hand around his shoulders and helping her to walk back to his own room in a hotel.

***

Fuuko awoke with a start. A stupid agent just drugged her and she hadn’t a faintest idea where she was. On the other hand, Fuuko could tell that she was save—she wasn’t tied to a board and being tortured to death for information on where 90 Quarters is. Instead, she’s well-rested on a bed…

“Awake, I see.”

Fuuko didn’t gasp, but turn to where the voice had come from. A man’s sitting on a chair, sipping cold ice tea. “Where am I?” she asked suspiciously. She wasn’t too sure that this man had saved her. Perhaps he’s using her as a mere device to get acquaintance to her and ask her where 90 Quarters is too.

“A hotel room.”

Fuuko narrowed her eyes.
“Three-Leaves Hotel.”

“Not that,” Fuuko said crookedly. “Never mind that. Who are you?”

“Why, certainly you haven’t forgotten me?”

Fuuko strained her memory and shook her head. “Sorry, I couldn’t remember the numbers of all the agents, you know?” she snapped, getting up from the bed.

“Agents?” The man stood up, sounding alarmed.

Uh-oh. Fuuko realized she’s in trouble the moment she saw the face of the man who had rescued her. She opened her mouth, trying to say something, but all that came out was a gasp. “Tokiya?”

Indeed it was Mikagami Tokiya as Fuuko had remembered him. He doesn’t look different, despite of all the years they had went their own ways.

Mikagami didn’t seem as surprised, of course, although he looked equally alarmed. “Agents?” he repeated.

Fuuko blushed. “I—it doesn’t really sound by what I meant, do I?” she laughed. “It was just a sarcastic remark, Mikagami. You know how I am.”

Mikagami just looked at her. “You mean you’re part of that…man who attacked you?”

“Yeah, you could call him a man if you want to,” Fuuko said, rolling her eyes. “Now, excuse me, I need to go to my own room in this hotel. Thanks for everything Mi-chan. I have to go and…report something to someone.”

Mikagami just looked at Fuuko as she went out of his room. “Since when did you become an agent?” he said before Fuuko closed his door.

“None of your business,” Fuuko spat out.

***

Fuuko cursed herself. Her stupidity had almost always failed her. She couldn’t let anything like that happen again. That was rule number 54, wasn’t it? She could’ve let out a secret, but thankfully Mikagami doesn’t get anymore info from her.

She took out the compartment labeled BC again from her duffel bag, which managed to come out unscratched. Why is she so stupid as not to remember there’s never a member 980 in her company? Well, it’s not really easy to remember all of the numbers in her company, in her defense.

“Any progress?” The toneless voice asked her as it often did whenever Fuuko called it up.

“Oy.” Fuuko sighed. “Am I right to assume Agent 980 isn’t in our agency?”

“Yes.” The voice sounded sharp once more. “There’s an Agent 980? In their agency?”

“I assume so,” Fuuko answered. “Came up to me. Bitch drugged me. Didn’t get the chance to take all the credit, though. Someone saved me.”

“Fellow agent?”

“No.”

Fuuko could imagine the frown on the voice’s owner’s face. “Who is it? Anyone we know? Anyone you know?”

“My was-friend.”

“Has nothing to do with any other agency, then?”

“Let’s hope not,” Fuuko answered, feeling beat. “980 is in their Agency then?”

“Assuming he is, what does he want with you?”

“Said he brought a message from 000.”

“000? That’s my code.”

“I suspect their Agency’s mastermind has the same code. Said 000 wanted me to have a long rest. I don’t think he wanted me killed though. Probably want to torture out some information on our Quadron.”

“Right,” the voice said sharply. “Didn’t let anything slip out, did you?”

“Of course not.”

“I expected the best—and no less—from you. Don’t disappoint me.”

Infuriated as she was, she answered a battered “yes” to 000. She shut the compartment and threw it across the room. What does 000 expected? Humans make mistakes, for God’s sakes.

“Venting your anger on a thing doesn’t help, does it?”

Fuuko turn around and found Mikagami standing at a corner, grinning and folding his arms. “How’d you get in here?!” Fuuko asked, enraged. “I don’t need anymore of this.”

“Of what, actually?” Mikagami asked.

“It’s better for you not to know, Mi-chan. And you still haven’t answered me. How did you get in my room?”

“That’s my secret,” Mikagami said airily. “Never mind that. What happened to you, Fuuko? Since when did you get involved in this kind of thing?”

“Since I came to New York,” said Fuuko briskly.

“I don’t think so,” Mikagami said.

“I didn’t know you were me, Mi-chan,” Fuuko said sarcastically.

“I think you became involved in this before you came here…” Mikagami said. “That’s why you have the come here. Headquarter’s here, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” Fuuko said, glaring at him. “You should know that you shouldn’t be blabbing about anything you’ve heard me say or what 980 said. That’s rule number one.”

“Why should I need this rule?”

“Because you’re in my secret now. You knew too much.”

Mikagami sighed. “Okay, let’s pretend I haven’t heard anything—in fact, let’s just pretend that I’ve never met you UBS, okay?” he offered, thrusting out a hand.

Fuuko narrowed her eyes. “Can’t let you do that.” She sat down on a comfortably couch. “In fact, I’ll let you know that I was supposed to kill you rather than let you in my secret and making you shut up about it.”

“Ooh, I’m so grateful,” Mikagami said scathingly, rolling his eyes. “I knew I regret the first time I met you—and I regret it more now than ever.”

“I’m flattered, baka,” Fuuko said, pinching her forehead.

“Glad you think this is all funny,” Mikagami snarled, glaring at Fuuko for the first time he saw her in New York City. “Do you know you could’ve killed yourself there?”

“Geez, Mi-chan,” Fuuko said, hiding a smile. “It’s only drug. He couldn’t have killed me even if he wanted to, because you know what? I’ve been in worse state—you do remember we fought in the UBS, don’t you?”

“Gomen,” Mikagami said, sighing. “I’m just…stressed. Damn tired.”

“Come to think of it,” Fuuko said, “I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

Mikagami looked away, embarrassed. “What? Do I have to have a reason to be here?!” he shouted embarrassedly.

“Geez, you’d think I want to kill you, asking you that question,” Fuuko said, grinning. “Though I admit I do want to kill you… Oh, did I say want? I meant have…”

Mikagami just rolled his eyes and Fuuko laughed and rolled onto her bed. “I better get back to my room. See you.”

Fuuko didn’t bother to reply as she kept pinching her forehead, lying there on her bed.

***

“So how’d you become involved in this?”

“I told you, that’s not what I intend you reveal to anyone—especially you,” Fuuko told Mikagami dryly. She found out that she couldn’t get mad at Mikagami. She’s actually happy she met him—after all, it’s been a very long time since she met any of the Hokage members.

“Oh, okay then.” Mikagami spooned a bacon into his mouth. “So what’s the big mission?”

Fuuko glared. “Oh, you’re hopeless.”

Fuuko stood up and got out her blue shades and put it on. “I need to roam the City for a while,” she said to Mikagami, who stood up as well. “I’m sure you have more important things than, um, following me around, hmm?”

“Oh, yes,” Mikagami said, rolling his eyes. “I have a meeting. I’ll catch you later.”

“Let’s both hope not.”

***

Fuuko didn’t visit the dark alley today. She couldn’t—not when the other Agency had found out that that’s’ her “hiding place” whenever she feels the needs to contact #000.

“Oh,” she gasped as she bumped into someone. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” a man snarled.

Fuuko looked up. “Shit,” she muttered.

“Oh, I couldn’t see any, except if you meant you, of course…”

It was Agent #980. “Shouldn’t you be covering yourself up with your muffler?” Fuuko asked sarcastically as soon as she recovered from the shock. Fuuko noticed—with a nasty feeling in her stomach—that the man’s neck was sort of, uh… Well, let’s just say, when Mikagami snapped at it, it stayed there permanently.

“Especially when you got that nasty twist?” Fuuko smiles evilly.

“Oh, you’ll be sorry you ever crossed a path with me, bi—”

“Any problem?”

Fuuko recognized the voice at once. “Mikagami, what are you doing here, you baka?!” she hissed angrily.

#980 looked at Mikagami in horror. I guess he remembers the guy, poor thing, Fuuko thought. But she couldn’t help smiling. “Well, I’m sure you remember him…”

Without another word, #980 walked away.

“You are a sick, sick man,” Fuuko told Mikagami as she walked hurriedly into a boutique, trying to cover up the fact that everyone’s watching them… She couldn’t reveal her secret to anyone.

“Yeah, I noticed what I really did to his poor neck,” Mikagami replied, looking quite horrified—with a smug smile, though—at what he had done to #980. “But hey, at least it wasn’t broken now, is it?”

Fuuko just rolled her eyes. “You’re despicable.” She walked through racks of dusters. She picked one up, pretending to be examining it. A black duster couldn’t keep her mind of a question, though. “What are you doing here?” Fuuko asked suspiciously. “I thought you’re supposed to be having a meeting or something.”

“Cancelled. It’ll be carried on tomorrow.”

There’s something quite mysterious on how Mikagami’s handling himself around Fuuko. He seemed to bump into her everywhere. Well, of course it could be a coincidence, but… It’s just too weird. Maybe she’s just not used to all the bumping-into-a-friend thing after all the years they’ve spent apart.