The Worst Possible Timing
She was going to devour me. That was the premonition settling into my bones. The hands gripping my collar were trembling. I had gone to the trouble of dressing myself up in the gaudy finery that Western "ladies" wore — the clothes I had carefully avoided all this time because of my own ambiguous identity, the ones I'd hidden from behind a creed I never needed to keep: a patrol officer wears her uniform, everywhere, always.
Pale blue, trimmed with frills. The bottom half was a skirt, no less. Clothes I'd been forced into for fear of the hostile stares that a Japanese police uniform would draw. And yet the emotion radiating from this Vice Minister toward my outfit was unmistakably rejection.
"They were expensive."
That one word was all I could force out as I met her eyes. Hui-yeong's hands shook where they clutched the fabric near my throat, as though she might tear the clothes off my body at any moment. I barely scraped together the courage to add one more sentence.
"This outfit. Throwing it away after wearing it once seems a little—"
"Once?"
"Yes. Once."
At that, her hands released me. No one had been choking me, and yet the relief of finally being able to breathe washed over me like freedom. I inhaled until my chest swelled, then let it out slowly. But my legs were still pinned beneath one of her knees.
I could probably break free if I put my strength into it. The position itself was against me, though. Even if I gathered all the force in my legs and pried her grip loose, from this angle — her looming above me — Hui-yeong could put me back in that chair in an instant.
More than anything, her arms were stronger than mine. I'd always trusted my own strength too, in my arms and legs alike... I'd never imagined being overpowered like this, and by a woman no less. Suppressing the fear and pressure as best I could, I kept my eyes wide open and searched for her weakness.
Her stance had no openings. Even balanced precariously on a single leg, I couldn't see the "opening" — no tell of where a fist should fly, which way to twist my body to seize momentum in one motion. Truthfully, that read had less to do with any anatomical or physical analysis than with pure, gut-level instinct. Sensually speaking, this woman showed me no gap to exploit. There were plenty of places to strike, but every one of them felt like it would be blocked, and answered in kind.
I had sparred with the detectives at the police station, and once even with army kempeitai men I happened to cross paths with — and not one of them had ever shown me a guard this airtight. It might be more accurate to say she was hiding her openings behind sheer force of will.
"My knee hurts."
"Ah — when did that happen? Sorry. I'm the type whose body moves before my head does, Unni."
At that, Hui-yeong drew her leg back from atop my knees. A thought flickered — am I allowed to stand? — and I stole a cautious sidelong glance at the Vice Minister of Military Affairs of Korea. No words passed between us, but her answer was crystal clear. No. If I stood, she would flatten me to the floor this time. That unspoken message poured off her in waves. Fine, then. Talking it was — from here, seated.
"In any case, it seems I did happen to help you, quite unintentionally, when we met last year. If that's what you called me here about today, then let me state for the record that I expect no reward—"
"I didn't call you here to reward you. I called you here to make you take responsibility."
Responsibility? What responsibility?
"...Forgive me if this sounds shameless, but I bear no responsibility for the exploitation that occurred in Korea. If that's what this is about, you should have summoned someone above me."
"Not about Korea. About me. You know what I mean — so why play dumb?"
"Asking someone who knows nothing, 'you know what I mean,' doesn't make them suddenly know."
"Mizuko Unni. Have you ever been a woman?"
The instant that question reached my ears, I nearly panicked, certain she'd seen through my true nature. But on second thought — no. If she knew about my "possession," my "past life," she would have asked whether I'd ever been anything other than a woman. There was no way she'd ask if I'd been a woman before. That question meant something else entirely...
"The Empire is a rotten country. Its treatment of women is pitiful. You've surely heard men ask women to spread their legs before."
Her hand seemed to be drifting, ever so subtly, toward the space between my thighs. I couldn't fathom her intention, but I caught her wrist.
The treatment of women.
It didn't stop at being meager. I had no idea how the Republic's government intended to handle the comfort women issue. But it was unquestionably happening in this world too, and it was hardly strange for her to suspect that the society of Japan, a nation that did such things, might have made the same demand of me. But I truly had never suffered such a thing.
I couldn't verify anything from before my transmigration, but this body had almost certainly never known a man. Perhaps that was only possible because it belonged to Ajisai Mizuko.
"No, I haven't. I was never cute enough for anyone to want me."
Hui-yeong's hand still hovered just in front of my knee. If I gave even a little more ground, I would be permitting it to touch the fabric of my skirt. The hem fell all the way to my ankles, so even that wouldn't bring it straight between my legs. And yet... it felt vile. I had to keep that hand from coming any closer.
"The illustrious Minister Ito once said: below the waist, a man has no character. There is no man in this world who refuses a woman because she isn't cute. Vague excuses only breed suspicion. So — have you ever been a woman?"
"Are you asking me if I've ever slept with a man?"
"A man who sleeps with a man is still a man, and a woman who sleeps with a woman is still a woman. I'm not asking who you've slept with. Let me ask again, Mizuko Unni. Have you ever become a woman?"
"I had no intention of it."
I tightened my grip on her wrist until the tendons stood out. Hui-yeong's eyes went wide, startled by the strength I'd unleashed in that instant.
"And that's exactly why."
If I threw her off just once, creating the follow-up technique wasn't impossible. Keeping her hand pushed away, I whirled her arm around and folded it up behind her back. The very moment I was about to slam her face-down into the floor and finish the pin, the Vice Minister's legs moved. With footwork quick enough to shake my hold entirely, she sprang forward and away. I failed the takedown, frozen one step short of the end — one last shift of my weight from a hold I'd already won.
Hui-yeong tore free of me and leapt to the center of the office, where she reset her stance in a heartbeat and stood facing me. She kneaded her elbow with one hand — the arm I'd wrenched must have hurt a fair amount.
"Not cute — and more than that. Now it makes sense."
"To be perfectly honest, Vice Minister Choi Hui-yeong, I don't understand a single thing you're doing right now."
"The explanation is simple."
She clenched both fists, settling into a fighting stance. Instinct made me lower my own center of gravity, fists raised.
"The day I first saw you, I decided I was going to have you."
"Have me?"
"I'm sorry for the indecency I attempted a moment ago. But those women's clothes you'd never worn — I'd wager that's what they were, no? The fact that you put them on to come see me. That means something to me. Even if you attach no meaning to it at all, Mizuko."
"I didn't even know I was coming to see you."
"Japan has lost Korea, so the uniform must be out of reach now."
I nodded. My opponent was finding her stance. Mixed martial arts... no — boxing? Her footwork was uncannily sharp for someone leading with her legs. She was widening her stance, setting up for wide steps. This was... remarkably professional movement.
"But you'll wear them. I'll have new ones made for you."
"Why go to the trouble?"
She snapped off a quick step. Reading her footwork, I slipped swiftly away from the angle of her advance. One of her fists grazed past me by a hair. She raised her guard again with perfect composure, as though she had predicted I would dodge — of course I would. But even with both hands up, I had no intention of striking her.
"Because that day — the moment I saw the proud eyes riding above those words of yours, the strength of a human being who was simply a creature cast into this world, a person beyond any question of man or woman — I decided. If anyone on this earth is going to make that woman a woman, it will not be the filthy old lechers who'd demand your favors, and it will not be a handsome fellow patrol officer, and not even Hirohito himself will be allowed to lay a hand on you! It will be me. That's what I decided that day. So—"
Another advancing step; this time I caught her attack on my guard. She wasn't hitting with any real force behind it. More than knocking me flat, she seemed to want to watch how I moved.
Not good. The office was spacious, but far too cramped to serve as a battlefield. Her steps were blindingly fast and fluid, which made for a poor environment to leverage my one advantage — a slightly longer reach...
"Plenty of people saw you on your way here, and those guards will have checked you against your photograph, but the first person to come see you in those clothes was me — so I've scored one point, at least. But no more. I can't just stand by and watch you slip into women's clothes as if losing your identity as a patrol officer meant nothing at all. So wear a new uniform. Head to toe. The clothes themselves — I'll provide!"
Ah — her emotions were boiling over. And the instant they did, an opening cracked open. Instinct carried me sideways as I shot my leg out to the full extent of its reach.
My knee caught Hui-yeong's face dead-on as she came in to strike me. With a sharp crack, blood burst from her nose. That part was fine — but what happened in the same instant brought me to despair.
With a heavy clatter, the office door swung open. Apparently the sounds of our little skirmish had carried loudly down the corridor after all.
A detective of the People's Republic of Korea came charging into the room at the sound of the fight, shouting.
"Vice Minister! What on earth is going on! There's an uproar coming from the Minister of Military Affairs' office and—"
This was bad.
There, in front of a Korean police officer, I had just been caught delivering a roundhouse kick straight to the Vice Minister of Military Affairs' face — and bloodying her nose.