「 only the rain 」 • TAKA

「 t h r e e 」

Taka finds himself wandering the small local bars in the red light district after their Makuhari Messe performance. He somehow split off from the band and crew in their bar hopping session, craving a particular beer that he suddenly knows is in this particular area.

The rain started in drizzles until it became heavier and Taka had to run inside a convenience store lest he gets soaked. He sees a crimson lit bar that has a neon sign that reads Sansa at the top, just opposite of the store he's in.

His instincts tell him that the beer he's craving is in this bar so he runs back into the rain, striding into the Sansa without questioning his logic nor bothering with the unusual downpour. He comes across an empty bar save for three men each in their own booths.

The place looks too clean and it sounds too eerily quiet to be considered a bar in the red light district. There wasn't much to look at because it seemed like a normal bar, minus the deserted feel.

Shrugging the unusual ambience of the place, Taka strides to the bartender and orders ambiguously for just beer this bar's beer whatever beer. The bartender looks at him as if he recognizes him but shrugs it off and gives him a mug of beer.

Taka thanks the man and downs half of the liquor in one go. Sighing contentedly when the beer finally hits his stomach, he runs his tongue on his top lip, savoring the bitter flavor that coats it. His craving isn't satisfied yet so he finishes the remaining half and asks for a second mug. The bartender takes his mug and refills it, sliding it back to him.

Taka lazily glances to the left where he sees an old jukebox. Staring at it as he gulps his beer, he contemplates whether he should or should not interrupt the silence of the bar. The only things he could hear at the moment were the bartender wiping his station, one of the men snoring in the booths, and the rain pouring outside.

Oddly unsettling.

Taka snorts, making up his mind. He jumps to his feet, mug in hand, and drags his legs to the jukebox. He wipes a hand on the display because a layer of dust has settled on it, obscuring the song choices. His ears pick up on the bar door opening but he doesn't pay much attention to it because his eyes immediately zeros in on the American titles of the jukebox.

Ah, imported records. He thinks and chooses Journey's It's Just The Rain. He hums along, and then downs the remainder of his mug. Letting the taste roll around his tongue a little, he turns and leans on the jukebox, empty mug lazily hooked in his fingers.

Taka expected the boring scene of the bartender cleaning his station, the two men still drinking in their own booths, and the third one still snoring, but he comes across a woman--a young woman--talking to the bartender, holding out a photograph. He can't hear them but he sees their rather glum conversation.

He decides to leave them alone and just listen to the jukebox. Too absorbed on softly singing along to the song. He idly observes the young woman and does not notice that the snoring man in the middle booth has awaken.

It's not the love, it's just the rain

Two broken hearts

But not in vain...

It's not the love, it's just the rain

Taka sings to himself, noticing first the woman's grunge outfit consisting of a dark halter crop top, dark ripped jeans, and red Dr. Martens. He thinks that he likes the way she's dressed but the white ink tattoo on her right shoulder was more fascinating and held his attention more. From where he's standing, Taka can't see it very clearly because the white color almost blends into her unusually pale shoulder. But from what he can see, it's a very complex kanji.

Obviously not yakuza, but she's got a nice taste in tattoos it seems.

Inside you keep on lying

Inside your soul is dying

You still can't hol...

Still... you can't...

Taka sings distractedly, seeing the drunk man who was asleep a while ago, approach the young woman.

"Give me two of what she wants," The man loudly tells the bartender in Japanese as he winks at her. "It's on me."

The woman shakes her head and tells the bartender something, ignoring the drunk man. The man didn't like her reaction so he tries again. He puts a hand on her waist and Taka pushes off of the jukebox, about to intervene. The drunk man smirks when the girl stiffens. She sighs and places the photograph down on the counter. He tells her, girly stop playing the hard-to-get game, you'll like--

The sudden movements flashed before Taka's eyes and he found himself staring in shock as the woman held the drunk man's arm behind him in a painful twist. Her short dark hair flew out in an almost artistic way as she man-handled the drunk out of the bar. She returned a minute later, sitting back on the stool she occupied.

No reasons why, no one's to blame

It's not the love, it's just the rain

The song now fully resounds in the bar, as all movements cease and all other sounds stop. The remaining men stare in stunned silence at the young woman. She fixes her wet hair with her fingers and places the photograph back in her purse, thanking the bartender quietly.

It's just the rain

Falling, falling, falling

It's just the rain...

As the song finishes, the sound of the rain pounding on the roof echoes in the establishment again and Taka is snapped out of his shock. He approaches the woman slowly, finally seeing the complex white tattoo on her right shoulder.

He's amazed, as he clearly sees the elaborate and intricate 84-stroke kanji inked onto her pale--too pale--shoulder, like it was a neon sign against her white complexion. Gasping audibly, Taka reads the kanji out loud.

"Daito?" He says curiously and the young woman whips her head to him.

His eyes meet hers and in that instant, Taka doesn't see the kanji tattoo brighten from a fade to ice white.

The young woman eyes him suspiciously, seeing the mug in his hand and noticing his rather close proximity. Pulling out her phone from her purse, she glares at him and stands.

"I'm calling the police. I'm only seventeen, you pervert!" She shouts at him and dashes out of the bar.

The sound of a mug shattering upon hitting tiled floor filled the Sansa.