The pitter-patter of the rain keeps me awake through the night.
 
"Hey."
 
Tip tip tip tip.
 
"Yeah, it's me."
 
Splitch splatch splitch splatch.
 
"Hey listen, could I see you?"
 
Somewhere in the house, someone left a window open.
 
"Yeah, that sounds fine."
 
I wonder what Lilly's up to.
 
"Alright. See you there."
 
I wonder if she's sleeping. I wonder what she's dreaming of.
 
I snap the cellphone closed.
 
There's a break in the rain. As if the incessant thrumming decided to stop on its own accord, for an instant.
 
I know it's just the wind.
 
 
 *
* *
 
The Black Eagle was a textbook example of a club gone bad. Once the refuge of late-night intellectuals, jazz musicians and other obscure celebrities, the small establishment had become a haven for hoodlums, lowlifes, and all the riffraff of the city. While not my location of choice for a meet, I have to admit the place was relatively low-key, and unlikely to attract much attention.
Akira doesn't like attention.
 
I sit next to her, taking my place at the bar. Bad techno music is blaring in my ears. A balding individual in a tee shirt two sizes too small serves me something that could pass for scotch, while three men busy themselves by eye-fucking a young girl who looks completely out of place.
 
I turn over at the woman in the suit.
 
"Glad to see you in some more casual attire for once," she says. "Business doesn't suit you."
 
"It doesn't suit you either," I reply.
 
"Thanks for the compliment."
 
The sarcasm in Akira's voice isn't too stinging. After working with her for years, I've grown accustomed to her cheerful, yet level-headed attitude.
 
"So, what's up?"
 
She stares at me for a moment. Dead eyes and poker face. I sigh.
 
"I don't know. I guess I wanted to talk to you."
 
Thankfully, she's looking back at her drink now. I continue:
 
"It's odd, it's just this feeling-"
 
She interrupts me, motioning over at the small group who now positively look as if they were about to rape the girl:
 
"Think we should help?"
 
I grumble.
 
"I fucking guess so."
 
Akira-White-Knight Satou, lead the way.
 
 
We zero in on the thugs. The largest one of them, possibly their leader in interim, turns around to give us a stupid look, while his scrawny colleagues pursue their ministrations.
 
"Is there a problem?"
 
The words escape his mouth like shit would sputter out of a wrecked garbage truck. I contemplate the brute; he reeks of perspiration, and sports the body of an ox.
 
"No problem?"
 
I hunch over, grabbing a cue ball from a nearby pool table. My clenched fist connects with the face of the thug, sending him flying across the room. His acolytes, visibly startled, look at me in disbelief.
 
"Get the fuck out of here."
 
Heads turn in our direction. I repeat myself, stressing every word:
 
"Get the fuck out of here."
 
 
They leave with their defeated accomplice without making much of a scene. Before I can make sense of my surroundings again, Akira hurriedly drags me out of the club.
 
"Let's go. With what happened just now, I'm not very interested in paying a bar tab."
 
Still holding on to her hand, I ask, worriedly:
 
-Where are we going?
 
-Where is your car?
 
-I came here by foot. You?
 
-By the corner. Come on.
 
Before I know it, we've reached the vehicle, a dark red sedan of cheap make. I resist the urge of commenting on the unexpected appearance; nevertheless, Akira seems to be set on answering my unspoken question:
 
"I had to borrow this from a, uh... friend."
 
I suppress a chuckle. Looks like I wasn't the only one to be having a fun night. And obviously, Akira had quite the headstart.
 
I am quick to climb into the car, the rain chilling me to the bone.
 
 *
* *
 
The gentle rainfall of the evening is quick to progress to a storm. Torrents of water pouring from the sky now hit the windshield in full force. Uncaring for the elements raging outside, Akira drives absentmindedly, taking a sharp turn from time to time in order to avoid arriving at anywhere in particular.
 
I repeat my question from earlier:
 
"Where are we going?"
 
Akira gives me a quizzical stare, her grin stretching wide across her face like a glasgow smile.
 
"You tell me. You're the one that said you needed to talk."
 
I feel like the burst of adrenaline from our escape cleared my head. I want to move. I need to move, to go somewhere, to do something. But what?
 
I cradle myself nervously in my seat.
 
"Hisao, I know that something's up. You don't have to tell me about it now if that's what you want, but you know I'll find out, eventually."
 
As I matured, I realized that Akira was actually really bad at being comforting. Just now, I can't even tell if that was her intent or an attempt at being menacing. With the history we have, it could go both ways.
 
"Is it about Lilly?"
 
Bam. Right between the eyes. And what a fine target I must make. Akira the game-hunter, Akira the hopes-crusher, brings in the catch of the day.
 
I look down at my feet, refusing to break the thick cloud of silence.
 
And I open the door. And Akira slams on the brakes. And I jump out of the car. And I start running.
 
And I run. I run far away, far into the rain, until I run out of breath, until I stumble and fall into the mud.