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A tired sigh escaped Hiromi's lips, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he stepped past the large, imposing metal detector by the door. Inside, the secretary was already waiting for him, paperwork in hand.
"Which room?" He muttered, gaze flickering down the long, dark corridor ahead.
"The first interrogation room on the left," the secretary had replied, heels clacking against the cold, clinical tile as she took a step back. "But, Mr, Higuruma, sir—"
He hardly lingered long enough to allow her to finish. He offered a polite glance towards her, a silent look that indicated that he already knew. He'd done this a few times by now, and he was no stranger to the sight of an interrogation room. His dress shoes struck the floor as he started for the holding room, a small, white light shining into the hallway from its slim window.
Hiromi adjusted his tie as he opened the door, his expression worn and utterly exhausted. He internally grimaced at the sight of you, cuffed against the dark, steel table in the middle of the room — but his expression betrayed no real emotion.
"Care to explain why I'm getting phone calls that my assistant has been charged with arson?" He asked, his voice stern but not unkind, as he closed the door behind him.
"It was an accident." You replied, without missing a beat.
"You burnt down an entire barn." Hiromi countered, crossing his arms over his chest. The fabric of his white button-up seemed to strain against his biceps, subtle but noticeable.
"Are you always so caught up on technicalities?" You muttered in response, almost challenging. A flicker of amusement crossed his features, though only for a split second.
"I'm a lawyer. Technicalities are my entire job." Hiromi replied, pulling out the chair in front of you. He sat down in one fluid motion, his movements slightly taxed, a testament to his exhaustion. After a moment of silently studying you, his eyes softened almost imperceptibly — but you noticed.
"Then you should know that there were no injuries or casualties," you replied, scowling slightly. "The only damage was an abandoned, dilapidated barn that hadn't been in use for decades."
"The barn was still government property," Hiromi argued, his voice softer, though only slightly. "Even if it wasn't in use."
"So?" You countered, leaning back stubbornly. "What does the government need a barn for? Certainly they can use any of the thousands of corrupt dollars they're hoarding to build a new one." You replied, your expression sharp as you looked up at him, almost daring him to challenge you on this.
You knew he couldn't — not when he agreed on the topic of the government's deep-seated corruption. He sighed, running a hand over his face.
With an exasperated tone, he said your name. It was tired, stern, almost a warning — but the strongest emotion it held was disappointment. It clicked in your brain then, a thought that made you tense almost immediately. Hiromi was disappointed in you.
You'd never been one to crack under pressure, but seeing Hiromi look at you like that, with such stern defeat, made your stubbornness break. You leaned forward, hands clenched as you examined the cuffs that bound your wrists.
"I'm sorry." You muttered, your voice small, shoulders slumped. Whatever Hiromi had been expecting you to say, it certainly wasn't that. He paused, leaning forward as you came undone, a rare sight that he'd never really seen. "I lost control. I was trying to intervene, and I—"
"Intervene?" Hiromi asked, suddenly.
"A man in the park. He was being… aggressive, to say the least, with a woman. I assume she was his wife, but I'm not entirely certain," you replied, your voice sharp, recalling the scene — the woman, frightened, by her male counterpart's loud voice and clenched fists. "I don't regret what I did." You finished, finally.
Hiromi paused, hands stilling on the desk. His expression was contemplative, but not judgmental.
"I know. You don't regret it," he replied, a statement of tired acceptance — but his voice was much softer now. "They neglected to tell me about… that."
"Yeah, well, now you know," you muttered, slumping down into your chair a bit. You sighed, hands straining against the metal cuffs that restrained you.
After a moment, Hiromi sighed. He stood over you, brows furrowed.
"You're my assistant," he said, simply. "You're intelligent, quick with your work, and most of all, you're strong-willed. There are not enough people in this profession who carry your passion. Preserve it." He said, his voice low and serious, making you pause as you looked up at him.
He straightened himself out, his hands adjusting his tie — a nervous habit he'd picked up years ago that he couldn't quite shake.
"As for the crime, I'll do what I can to settle the case with the city. It being an abandoned building with no casualties certainly helps your case," he murmured. "If they decide to go through with a trial, I'll make sure you're defended well." He paused, leaning forward.
You blinked a few times, shocked. Usually, when you ended up in these situations, you received a lecture from Hiromi, but this was different. He seemed to understand you like none of the officers or interrogators did. He understood what you'd done, despite the fact that you'd lost control.
You smiled then, lifting your cuffed wrists.
"Uncuff me?" You asked, with a deceivingly innocent grin, making Hiromi scoff in response.
"'Uncuff' isn't a real word," he corrected, shoving his hands into his pockets. "At least not professionally."
You paused then, taking the opportunity to push his buttons — and your luck.
"Oh, my apologies," you murmured softly, teasingly. "The language police seem to have arrived."
Hiromi paused, unable to stop the amusement that crossed his tired features.
You were his greatest asset and his greatest liability, wrapped up with the sweetest personality he'd ever had the misfortune of encountering. You were bad luck, reckless, a new chore in his day to day life — but he couldn't get enough of you. No woman had ever managed to keep him on his toes quite like you did, and Hiromi never backed down from a challenge.
"I'll be back," he finally sighed, with a shake of his head. He paused just by the door, his hand lingering on the cold, metal plate of the doorframe. "And for the record — never compare me to the police again."