Rain is Nothing but an Omen
rain
Schuldig teaches Crawford about an old Japanese ice breaker. "Nice weather, eh?" Crawford was, nonetheless, confused.
-x-
Just another miserable day here in Tokyo.
Schuldig hated being cooped up inside with nothing to do. There was nothing on the television except for Japanese soap operas, and Schuldig wasn't desperate enough to stoop down to that just yet. Crawford was at a meeting with Takatori, presumably talking about nothing important to anything but the prime minister candidate and Crawford. Maybe somewhere deep inside Crawford found it boring as hell, but went along with it anyway because that was his job--kiss up to 'Mister Takatori'.
He flipped through the channels again. News, news, news, more campaign footage, Takatori speaking, Why should I care in the first place? was his thought as he found some weird game show. All Crawford did was lurk in the shadows like a good little bodyguard. Schuldig could have vomited. Wacky game shows weren't his thing, so he changed the channel yet again and found himself gazing at the weather.
"The weather for all of this week looks like it will be raining heavily, with a period of thunderstorms towards Thursday evening," the meteorologist said in such perfect Japanese.
"Lovely," Schuldig muttered sarcastically into his coffee. "This week'll be crap."
-x-
Crawford loosened his tie as he closed the door to the apartment. He hung his coat on the rack by the door and threw his umbrella in the holder. He sighed; this whole week was going to be bad--he could see pieces of it already. He entered the living room and saw Nagi on his laptop with the news broadcasting softly in the background. It talked of--what else--Takatori Reiji's campaign for prime minister. He had heard enough of it in the meeting today, he didn't need to hear it at home, either. He turned the TV off; Nagi wasn't watching it anyway, and thus didn't care. He surveyed the room and saw the figure who usually graced the couch at this hour was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's Schuldig?"
Nagi didn't look up from the screen or stop typing. "He's on the roof."
Crawford quirked an eyebrow. "Again? In the rain? Does he want pneumonia?"
The corner of Nagi's mouth twitched in some indication of a smile he was trying to hold back.
"Why do you care so much, Crawford?"
"Because--" He took his tie off and went into his room for a brief moment to hang it up. No use ruining a perfectly good tie. "--if I don't have a powerful telepath, the group will fail. We're not spies, after all. We need some way of getting information we wouldn't be able to access normally."
"He's worth more alive than he is dead," Nagi summarised. "That's all you had to say." Then, after a pause he added, "I thought for a moment you had gotten soft."
Crawford scoffed. "An assassin growing soft is death for himself. Besides, I don't mix business with pleasure." He readjusted his spectacles before leaving the room once more.
He went to the stairwell in the corner of the apartment, one that led to the second floor and up to the roof. He had only placed one foot on it when he said, "I'll bring Schuldig inside."
Nagi said nothing in response; Crawford began his descent to the roof. The heavy metal door creaked open as Crawford threw his shoulder against it. Rain whipped at his face and there, near the edge of the roof, was Schuldig, sitting near the railing.
"You're late," Schuldig said without turning around. Crawford stood in the doorway, out of the rain.
"The meeting ran over."
"Huh. Is that your new excuse now?"
Deadpan expression. "I don't have to answer to you."
Schuldig smirked as the bright, bleary lights of the city below were blurred by the heavy rain.
"No, I guess you don't."
There was a pause in the conversation as Crawford thought of a way to get Schuldig inside.
"How long have you been out here?"
Schuldig shrugged. "Two hours I guess. It's nice out."
Crawford looked at the rainy sky.
"That's a Japanese ice breaker, didn't you know? You say, 'Oh, nice weather today,' and the other person answers, 'Yes, it is, isn't it?' Even if it's hailing like a bastard out."
"Come inside, Schuldig." Crawford sounded like a master calling for his dog. Schuldig twirled a strand of wet hair around two fingers.
"It's not that cold out. Besides, there's nothing better to do." He turned around. "Unless you're offering...?"
"No," said Crawford sternly.
"Well then call me when dinner's ready."
"Schuldig..."
The red head removed himself from the railing and brushed past Crawford.
"Don't want to get water everywhere, right?"
Crawford closed the door behind them and followed Schuldig down the hall and watched him towel off.
"The rain... It's a bad omen, isn't it?"
"Yes," Crawford answered. "Something bad will happen, and it has yet to reveal itself."
The rain picked up again, pounded against the window pane. Whatever Crawford saw in his vision, it was drawing closer.