Someone knocks on my door again.

I ignore it. Brushing the last tendrils of hair into place, I smirk into the mirror for a second. Perfect: jade earring, silk shirt just this side of decent, tight leather pants, flowing coat and of course the fingerless gloves. The women will line up.

"No more moping for you, baby," I tell my reflection. "Tonight Kudou Youji returns to life as usual."

Knock.

"What?" Not that I wasn't just leaving anyway. "Like I said, I'm going out tonight. No errands, no trading the early shift -"

Opening the door reveals the teammate I least expected to see. " - Aya?"

He just stands there, in my way. Does something about him look a bit odd tonight? Not important. "Birman better not be downstairs with a mission," I warn, knowing if she is my evening is shot. Things have been getting serious lately.

Aya shakes his head.

"Then..." I trail off, inviting him to tell me why he's here. Silence. Very, very typical. Also annoying and not on the Kudou program for the evening. "Then _I_ am going out for some fun and whatever it is will have to wait. See you later, Aya." He steps back suddenly just before I can push past him.

I'm three steps down the hallway when his voice comes from behind me. A curt order. "Take me with you."

Now _that's_ a thing you don't hear every day. Or any day. Turning on my heel, I pause to look him up and down, with real attention this time. Button-up black shirt, jeans and boots, and a new leather jacket. This must be Aya's idea of clubbing gear - I knew something looked different. Try not to fall off the wild side, there, fearless leader.

But the thing of it is, with the way he looks it just doesn't matter. Aya has hair the color of dark ripe cherries, skin like porcelain, and violet eyes. He could dress in a barrel and suspenders, and the bouncers would let him walk right into the Kodo. Hell, he'd probably start a new fashion trend. I snicker at the thought. Aya stiffens, and I hastily wave a hand at him. "It's okay, sure, just - _you_ want to go out clubbing? Finally decided to see what you've been missing in life?"

He raises an eyebrow and Looks at me witheringly - the usual response to my friendly gestures. But then his face jerks back into neutral and he just shrugs. Odd...

"So then shall we?" I decide to ignore the tone of his "request". Ten minutes past seven, car keys in my pocket and Tokyo at my feet. Babysitting Aya shouldn't be a problem; he can handle himself in a fight and he won't try to steal my girls. Most likely he'll end up drinking in the corner anyway. Too bad, really.

The shop's already closed for the evening, Ken and Omi are holed up in their rooms. There's no one to see us leave by the side door or care when we get back - just the way I like it. I start to whistle as we lock up and head towards the roadster parked on the street.

Aya grabs my arm, stopping me. "What now? Forget something?"

He's looking down at his fingers clutching my coat, scowling like the fabric mortally offends him. After another few seconds he grates out, "I need to ask a favor."

You already have, I tactfully don't say. Well, that explains the sour look. Aya hates to be helped; I think he doesn't want to feel in debt to anyone. We practically had to sit on him at first to dress his wounds after missions. "No problem. What's up?"

A sidelong purple glare of deepest suspicion. "Do _not_ tell anyone."

It's not that he never helps anyone else, either, exactly. For the last three weeks while I wept in my room meals showed up at the door; somebody left me cigarettes, and it sure as hell wasn't Omi or Ken; somebody worked overtime to cover my shifts in the shop; somebody never said a word about skipping missions or being a useless pathetic sonofabitch, no matter how worried I know he is about his sister. I owe Aya for that even if he is being an ass right now.

Sigh. "Cross my heart and hope to never get a date. What is it, Aya?"

"...Find me a woman for tonight."

And the cigarette tumbles right out of my hanging-open mouth, to lie in the slush.

* * *

In the car I keep sneaking little peeks at him behind my shades. Aya is staring out at passing Tokyo as usual, hunched into that new leather jacket. It does look good on him.

Well, well, well. So that's why he wanted to go out. All that time shut up brooding in a room gets to a guy - I should know - and sometimes, hell, you just need to get laid. Happens to everybody.

Why a grown-up assassin needs to ask for help, though... but it's not the kind of thing you ask about. And you don't laugh no matter how terribly _serious_ his tone of voice was. Men have to stick together. Instead I spin the wheel and send the car in a different direction, towards the neon of the Kabukicho.

"So then, Aya...what kind of girl?"

"I don't care." He's still looking away. Embarrassed, of course.

"Blonde, redhead, natural? Gentle or wildcat?" I try.

Shrug.

"Saa, Aya, you have to give me something to work with here. Schoolgirl?"

That at least gets a snort. "_God_, no. Just - pick someone, Youji. You know about these things." Out of the corner of my eye I see him slowly lean his head on his arms.

Know about these things? I do. And you, Aya, are nervous as a security guard who's heard of Schwarz. Are you actually a virgin? What an innocent little bunch of killers we are...

Sinpathy is not the club I was planning to go to tonight. The parking is hell, especially since I hold out for a legitimate spot in one of the garages. The music's a bit too loud - on purpose, to encourage you to move to the much more expensive back rooms. And the usual feminine clientele is _not_ up to Kudou standards.

But it happens to be where Meya works.

We met years ago when she was first learning how to lap dance. I was sixteen and both of us pretended we knew what we were doing, and then laughed at each other, and after that it was fine. Cynical but soft as butter underneath; kind enough to take me in those first few weeks in the big city, smart enough to kick me out before I could get in the way of business. That's Meya.

When Asuka died the first time, it was her arms I cried in.

The doorgirl bows and smiles, and the atmosphere of stale cigarette smoke and bad music puffs warmly in our faces. Aya stops in the entrance with his most dubious scowl. "Trust me," I smile, giving him the Look over the top of my shades that's anything but reassuring. Well, if he's _going_ to constantly suspect me...

I have to admit the place doesn't look like much. On the small stage one stripper is performing, accompanied by claps and whistles. The rest of the space is dimly, unevenly lit by oil lamps in scarlet shades; the flickering red light grants voyeuristic glimpses of the tables scattered around, bodies in chairs and bodies moving on them. Now and then two people will stand up and wander through the red curtained doorway at the back, making the beads clatter.

"Please, be welcome." A girl sidles up to us and bows. She looks impossibly young for such an establishment, shy and doelike. Her red robe is tied with crisscrossing silk laces underneath small bare breasts. "May I show you to a table?" she asks hopefully, looking from me to Aya through demurely lowered eyelashes.

"Actually," I grin back at her, "We're here to see Meya. Is she working tonight? Yes? Then tell her we're here and run along, hon. We'll find our own table."

All that shy charm vanishes as if a switch were thrown. Quicker than a waterfront hooker can put on a condom she's back among the tables, without even a parting smile. Tsk. Must be a new girl.

Aya's expression hasn't so much as flickered once, but then I didn't expect it to. From the way he ignores Sakura-chan it's pretty clear that young innocent things are not his type. Sometimes they're mine, it all depends on the presentation. Why be narrow-minded and miss out on the fun?

I spot an empty table near the edge of the room and push through the crowd to it. The first thing I do after dropping into a chair is to check my wallet - it's that kind of crowd. A few moments later Aya takes the other seat and does the same, with a sour glance at me. His body language is screaming "get me out of this place"; I try not to snicker.

Soft hands cover my eyes from behind. "Youji-san, what's the plan?" says her voice.

"I had this yen to bring you men. Mmm," I reach up to stroke her hair, then pull her hands away and bring her around in front of me. "Meya, meet Aya."

She flashes him a thousand-watt smile that makes Miss Red Laces look childish and sullen. "Sorry I haven't called," I murmur in her ear. I usually don't visit her at work, either - double sin.

"You look like shit, Youji," she answers, still smiling at Aya. "What happened?"

"Tell you later." Wish I could. I keep my voice low, despite the pulsing music. "It's been hell. Look, Aya is hard to get along with, but he's - a good friend of mine, and I need you to be _really nice_ to him. Okay?" The contents of my wallet make a fat roll, pressed into her hand.

Her eyebrows rise as the money disappears. "When you gonna learn, Kudou? That's not the going rate."

"Never. Go on, I'll call you next week."

Aya does his best to stay impassive as she walks over, but I can see him flatten back in the seat. So can Meya. "Evening, Aya-san. It's good to meet you," she says in a normal tone of voice. "Do you know what you want tonight?"

He just nods, a little stiffly.

Pause. "Would it be all right to start with a lap dance?" she asks, and Aya nods again. I'm not sure the guy even knows what a lap dance is, but he's about to find out in the _best_ possible way. Unobtrusively, I slide my chair out of his field of vision. No sense spoiling the mood.

Meya climbs up with the grace of long practice, wrapping one smooth leg around his back and caressing with her foot. Aya tenses further as she begins to writhe erotically against him. Not so impassive anymore, I note smugly; he looks more like he did when Omi dropped a kitten into his lap, asked him to take care of it, and ran off to take a test. Phase One: stunned bewilderment. Phase Two: ostentatious sullen glowering. Phase Three: I caught him petting the little fuzzy thing tenderly when he thought no one was looking.

Hm. Meya is not faring so well as the kitten, sadly; Aya is looking more and more nervous instead of less, and when she tries to caress his cheek with a bare breast he pulls away. Oh, man...

Now she's whispering to him reassuringly. They kiss, and I have to smile; Aya's kiss is so clumsy and somehow sweet. Meya stands up and holds out her hand, and he takes it. Neither of them looks back at me on the way to the curtained doorway. Click-click go the red beads, and they're gone.

Ah, well. I stretch lazily, light a cigarette now that it won't offend Aya's delicate sensibilities, and order one of the travesties that pass for drinks here for Meya's sake. Hopefully she'll be able to loosen him up.

But what am I going to do for the next two hours?

* * *

Part Two

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