Michiko's heel struck the pavement in staccato beats, the night's hush broken by her approach to the low-slung bar. She was ten minutes early, a tactic she'd rehearsed to ward off jittery nerves, though the flush creeping up her cheeks said otherwise.
Strategy, she told herself as she slipped off her leather gloves and into the dim setting. It's not indecision, not the hour she'd spent before her vanity agonizing over three different lipsticks—blushing rose, daring crimson, vampy wine—before swiping them all off and starting over. Definitely not the reason she'd changed her earrings twice, first swapping diamond studs for hoops, then reverting at the last minute.
Inside, overhead lights threw beams of yellow across polished mahogany and worn leather barstools. Michiko's black stilettos tapped like precise punctuation on the marble mosaic floor as she crossed the room. Her dress was jet-black silk, cinched at the waist, skirted her thighs with every step, cut high enough to seduce but low enough to command respect. Her raven hair was tucked neatly behind one ear, strands slicked with a sheen that caught the light; her eyeliner arched into a blade-sharp wing, matching her confidence.
She didn't simply look like someone in charge. She looked untouchable. Already, she braced herself to seize control of the evening.
Then she saw Ji.
They leaned casually against the bar's corner, a soft pink cardigan draped over a cream lace camisole, the fabric falling in gentle folds that contrasted with the fine angles of their collarbone. Their dark hair curled loosely around a strong jawline, each ringlet catching the low lamplight in a subtle shimmer. At the corners of their eyes, barely perceptible glitter dusted the lashes, lending their gaze an almost predatory beauty.
At the chime of the door, Ji's head lifted, and their lips formed into a slow, knowing smile. A single eyebrow arched, playful. "You're early," they murmured, with a voice enticing like sugar stirred into strong tea.
Michiko's response was smooth as polished stone. "You're overdressed." She closed the gap between them.
Ji chuckled, a sound like windchimes in a breeze. "Funny—I was thinking the same about you." They set down a crystal tumbler with a clink.
Taking the nearest stool, Michiko settled beside them with more grace than she felt. Ji had already slipped around the counter. "No drinks tonight," they said, "I'm off-duty."
"Pity," Michiko replied, resting her elbow on the bar's cool surface. "I was going to make you remix that lavender cocktail until I got bored."
Ji's dark eyes roamed her silhouette appreciatively. "You don't get bored easily, do you?"
She lifted a brow, voice crisp. "Only with people who insist on playing games."
They hummed softly, sliding onto the stool beside her. Close enough that their body heat radiated to her arm, distant enough to tease. "Then clearly I'm doing something right."
Ji's boot nudged hers, a casual spark shooting through her nerves, yet Michiko remained statuesque, neither leaning in nor recoiling.
"So," she said, forcing a calm veneer, "care to tell me what I supposedly left behind?"
Ji's finger traced lazy circles on the polished wood. After a deliberate pause, they looked up, voice low and teasing: "Maybe your dignity."
Michiko snorted, unflappable. "Try harder."
Their smile widened. "Your curiosity, perhaps? Still haven't found it, have you?"
The jab struck closer than she liked. She tilted her head, deflecting. "And what about my name? You still haven't given me yours."
Ji's eyes danced. "You already know it."
"Still just 'Ji'?" she pressed. "No surname for me to whisper in the dark?"
They laughed a soft, melodic sound. "I'm not that traditional."
Michiko tapped her manicured nail against the counter. "So how exactly did you learn mine?"
Ji shrugged, innocent as a drifting cloud, though the spark in their gaze belied intention. "You left your name all over that room."
"I don't recall carving it into the walls."
"You didn't have to," Ji replied, voice dropping. "Michi-chan."
Her breath stuttered at the nickname, irritation and intrigue warring inside her. "It's Michiko-san to you."
Ji leaned in, lowering their voice so only she could hear. "Formalities feel cold after everything, don't you think?"
She bristled, yet her pulse thudded in her throat. "Just because you're Korean doesn't mean you can disregard Japanese honorifics."
Their lips curved into a mischievous grin. "So if I use Michiko-san, am I forgiven?"
"No," she said, tone firm though a faint flush warmed her cheeks. "It simply means you haven't earned my nickname yet."
Ji's gaze softened, retaining that playful glint. "Oh, I think I have."
Their voice became a whisper that skated across her spine. Michiko crossed her legs defensively, angling her body away, but couldn't mask the tension in her shoulders.
"Is this little power-play amusing to you?" she asked.
Ji's eyes showed a subtle possessiveness beneath the teasing. "I think it intrigues you."
She didn't deny it—couldn't—no matter how much she tried.
Ji leaned in with a mischievous expression . "You walk in here like you want to win. But I'm not trying to beat you, Michi…-san."
Michiko eyed them with a hint of playfulness, her voice barely above a whisper. "Then what do you want?"
"To keep you," Ji murmured, the words rolling off their tongue like a secret meant just for her.
A thrill shot through Michiko at Ji's unexpected confession. "Excuse me?" she replied, her voice tinged with intrigue and surprise.
Ji's eyes twinkled, a playful grin spreading. "Too soon?"
"Too intense," she responded with a teasing smirk.
Ji chuckled, the sound inviting. "Touché."
Their words lingered, their quiet sincerity more captivating than any grand gesture could be.
In a swift motion, Michiko stood, smoothing her dress with a determined flourish. "We're taking a walk."
Ji's eyebrow arched with curiosity. "Where to?"
"Anywhere your pretty face isn't safely tucked behind the bar," Michiko teased.
Ji rose with ease, adjusting their cardigan with a leisurely air. They moved beside her, their shoulder brushing hers. "You're irresistibly cute when you're trying to play hard to get."
Michiko lifted her chin, showcasing defiance. "Push any harder, and you'll see just how fast I can run."
Ji leaned in, their voice a sultry whisper near her ear. "I've already seen how quickly you come back."