MATCHA RUN

You stop in front of a trailer in the middle of Uji nowhere. In one hand's your luggage, the
bag tag still on — a twelve-hour flight straight from Uptown. Jet lag's numbing your brain
and excitement's murdering it in its sleep. You're beyond prepared.

One knock. No response. But there's a shuffle inside, an excited little squeak, then a quick
shush. You smile, thinking of the texts you exchanged with a certain @hitmeuppp a couple
nights before:

😎
hitmeuppp: okay but like i BET youre gonna chicken first and its not even a bet its the truth
baby

💔
u just love me too much…
you can't resist my brilliance

You call out: "I think your mansion's a little lacking."

"Oh, yeah?" Misaki says, the door banging against the trailer with too much force. (It's going
to leave a dent.) They look at you with faux-offence, but even Misaki's world-class acting
can't cover up the massive grin splitting their face.

You grin. "You lost, lover!"

Misaki sighs, shaking her head. "Aw, damn. I really couldn't hold out for it. Guess I'm kinda a
loser now, but jokes on you, there's no penalty for losing, so… I'm still in the red! Oh, wait. In
the green? In the black?"

They're beautiful. Sun-dappled cheeks, glittering eyes, and a too-wide smile as they ramble
about business and betting and what-have-you. Your heart leaps to your throat.

(You're lucky that the February film shoot brought you all the way here. Because of course,
the assassin protagonist of your screenplay resides in Japan, which just so happens to be like
your actual partner, who's also an assassin in Japan. It's working out for you!)

"Anyway," Misaki says, after running through a list of ways to say I still have money! in
existence, "Am I just gonna stand here, or…?"

You smile. "You're not the one that took the twelve-hour trip. You can take twelve easy steps
over here."

"Okay, ugh! I hate it when you make good points!"

You hold them tighter. You smile to yourself. You've missed them so much, too.

(Sometimes, you find yourself wishing that you and Misaki lived closer. In some of your
fantasies, she'd be living in Uptown at your apartment; in others, you'd be living with them in
Japan, hanging out in their trailer and taking the days as they go by.)

(But in moments like these, you forget about it all. Distance does make the heart grow fonder.
It makes your reunion so much sweeter.)

"So?" You murmur into Misaki's shoulder, "Are we going to keep hugging it out for
Valentine's, or…?"

"We can do anything, baby!" Misaki says, letting go of you — but their hands are still on
your arms like they aren't quite ready to leave you. Their eyes glint with mischief. "I have a
trailer, which is less cool than a getaway car, but that still means the world's our oyster. We
can hit up a bank, steal some cash, or something considerably less dramatic?"

It is Valentine's Day, so maybe no robberies today. Being arrested would not be a great way to
spend your Valentine's. Even if bunking with Misaki in a jail cell isn't the worst thing in the
world. (You can already hear her voice, singsong: "It's only a crime if we get caught!")

"You could show me around Uji, have a chill date?" You suggest. Ever since arriving in the
city, you've barely had a chance to look around because you were busy looking for your
partner-in-crime (figuratively and romantically.)

"Abso-fucking-lutely! I'm no officially licensed tour guide, but I guess I'll trade in my
assassination services for the day." At your face, Misaki giggles. "Not that I'm, y'know, still a
serial killer."

They take your hand. Out of the trailer, out into the streets: Uji is beautiful. You know Japan's
neon signboards, the samurais and the temples, shone up on every screen. But the rural
countryside is breathtaking in a different way: traditional wooden houses in rows, a dusting
of snow on the roofs, and a quaint street all for Misaki and you. It's good.

Your day goes in a whir. You stop by street stalls, Misaki nudging you towards the fishballs
and fried takoyaki. ("A little bit of everything won't hurt!") Try out tea in the time-honoured
tearooms, Misaki's composure falling into a bout of giggles every time the tea people leave.
("It's not that I don't take this seriously, it's just, I feel so rich doing this.") Pile on the snacks
in your shopping cart as Misaki slips Pocky into your hands when no one's looking. ("It's a
massive corporation, babe, they can handle losing a couple yen!") You're gazing out at the
Byodoin Temple in the pond, tranquil as can be, when Misaki comes back with a swirl of
matcha ice cream in hand. She pokes your nose.

"This is yours, m'love!"

The matcha is oh-so-delicious, melting in your mouth with a tang of milkiness. "Oh, this is so
much better than the ones in Uptown," you say. Misaki salutes you with a shit-eating grin.

It's over, quicker than you know it. You nearly stumble on your way back, feet spent from the
trek. Misaki catches you before you fall. "Whoa, there, soldier! Let's not die just yet, I've only
seen ya for a day!"

"I'm okay!"

Finally, you both get back to Misaki's trailer. Misaki collapses on a nearby bean bag at the
door. So do you. Then you look at each other and burst into laughter.

"Care to remind me? Who is it that said… let's have a chill date?"

"A very chill date."

Aside from the multitude of activities today, you and Misaki deserve a little rest in general.
You've gone through managers, producers, fundraising and mingling; who knew the life of a
writer involved so much bureaucracy? Misaki themself has only recently retired from
assassination — and the mental energy (and trauma) in that will take time to recover from.

("I think I'm gonna, like, need a whole movie marathon to erase all the assassination
vacations from my life," Misaki had told you on call. It's about time.)

"My favourite liar and screenwriter!" Misaki snuggles into you. "What d'you think about
getting those movies going?"

"We totally should."

You lean on Misaki's shoulder. The projections slip into pink and white and blue blurs —
Assassination Nation, Ready Or Not, Bullet Train — anything silly, everything mindless.
Misaki hums as the screen flickers on their face: curving their jaw and their cheeks, tinging
them azure.

"What do you think about the assassination scenes?" You ask.

"It's kinda bullshit… well, not totally, but there was barely any recoil, and silencers don't
work like that, and I know it's Hollywood but still, spare me…"
Misaki gets so animated when they ramble — hands flying, eyes alight, going a mile a minute
— and you love that about her. It's a pretty sight to see, as the author that you are. Their every
twitch and grin tells a story. You already have written a tale about Misaki: but a dozen, ten
dozen more? It's impossible to run out of ideas when you're with them.

And speaking of giving assassins their due…

"I almost forgot…" You dig into your bag and fish out a card. What it is is rather obvious,
given the square size and the heart-sticker on the envelope and the "Misaki, my favourite
assassin" scribbled on.

Misaki's jaw drops. "Oh my fucking god, you didn't."

You grin. "Yeah, I did!"

"Oh my god oh my god… it's almost like you're my Valentine's…" Misaki unwraps the card.
They're silent as they take it in. Your heart stutters. Hopefully, Misaki likes it — you wrote
your heart out in your letter and decided to toss on a few cat stickers, because cats. What if
they don't like it? Sleeping arrangements would be awkward tonight…

"Stop making me fall for you, literally all over again." Misaki laughs, loud and sweet. "This
is so fucking cute, so help me god. And you got me cats, too! Did I die and go to heaven?"
"No, because then I won't have a date." It isn't even that funny, but Misaki giggles like it's the
funniest thing in the world. Unbidden, the question slips out of your mouth. "Did you ever
have a Valentine's like… this?"

Misaki pauses. "Nah," she says. "Like, oh boy, I've done a few assassination runs for scorned
lovers 'cause the symbolism is too good to let go. Anatomising on Valentine's! And that crazy
stuff. But, no, nothing like this. Unless you count the time me and my ex were going at
assassinating each other for the day, it's nothing too crazy."

"That's pretty crazy."

"Is it?" Misaki says. "I've kinda lost sense of what's crazy and what's not. But hey, I definitely
like it better when I'm not almost dying on Valentine's."

They nuzzle their nose into yours and kiss you. You giggle into their lips and kiss back —
deeper, sweeter, 'til you thump on their trailer's floor and you're laughing into each other.
They kiss you on the cheek. You kiss them on theirs. They kiss you again. You kiss back.

"Are we starting a kiss fight? 'Cause I think it's only right to warn you now that you've got no
chance of winning. No chance."

"Is that a bet?"

"While the movie's still on?"

"C'mon, babe, we've tuned out Brad Pitt six minutes and sixty seconds ago." Misaki pokes
your forehead. "Whatcha thinking about, lover? 'Cause I need your head empty so you can
kiss me silly."

"Well, I was…" you murmur, "... thinking about how this floor doesn't feel like a mansion
floor, that's all."

You feel a whack at the back of your head. "Oh, c'mon! Just you wait, that mansion's gonna
be in my grasp. Someday. Eventually. Give it eighty years on minimum wage."

"But you're an assassin!" You poke their nose. They shut their eyes and giggle.

"Yeah, former assassin, and it's your fault. I'm sure you're so happy now. No mansion for you,
baby, boo-hoo."

"You could assassinate a mansion haver?"

"Yeah, but that's like paperwork. And it's not like loot boxes, I'll have to marry their son or
something and then kill him and then make sure I'm their only dearly beloved and there's
absolutely no one in the bloodline to give the mansion to. What is this, Succession?"

"Succession, and you won't be with me. Sucks."

"Yeah, it sucks." But she can't hold it in. They crack a grin. "Thank god I'm not
mansion-hunting, right? It'll suck to lose you."

"Yeah, it would. And it'll suck a lot to lose you too."

"I know. Oh, to be free from a life of murder and crime. Which reminds me…" As they
speak, Misaki heads to the driver's seat. You raise your eyebrows, but join them in shotgun as
Misaki revs the engine, swerving out of Uji.

"I thought you said no mansion hunting?"

"Oh, this is way better than mansion hunting."

You see it first: the rollercoasters, wrangled by ivy and rust. Then the merry-go-rounds,
choked by trees and weeds. SPIRIT THEME PARK is etched on a decaying sign. ("You're
totally going to kill me." "No, I won't!" "Seriously, Misaki, this is prime serial killer
material." "Do you happen to be hanging out too long on a server by the name of
Slaughterhouse Losers?" "... Maybe.")

"I promise, I'm not going to kill you. I just wanted to show you something."

Misaki leads you out to an open area in the theme park. Despite the decaying structures and
the midnight darkness, it feels almost serene. Your partner gestures towards a makeshift fire
drum in the centre. "I'd dump everything I needed for an assassination into this. Let it go up
in flames like it was nothing. I feel cleaner, after. I haven't gotten rid of all the contracts and
paperwork from my last final assassination… so I thought this would be a good time to do it.
If you… don't mind helping out?"

That's how you spend your Valentine's. The flames cut a streak of orange amidst the park's
structures, like ghosts of old towering over you both. Your head's on Misaki's shoulder as
their old life tatters away in the flames. Demands, contracts, threats and fake cash. Everything
that doesn't deserve a place in their life anymore.

Misaki kisses your hair. She murmurs: "D'you want marshmallows?"

You smile. "Fuck yes."