Takeru had been wandering the streets of Shinjuku on his way back from dinner with his teammates, a treat from their esteemed coach for having played so well in their first game of the season. Most of his teammates had taken the train home, the coach had taken a cab. He had opted to walk along with one of the second-year regulars, Kurosawa until their respective destinations had led to them splitting up some ten minutes ago. Now he was on his own and despite the late hour had no sooner found himself less than eager to head back to his apartment complex at the sudden memory of his workaholic mother being away on a travel assignment; doing some latent report on the after-effects of the earthquake near the Northern parts of Japan, or something. Either way, she wouldn't be home for another week, 'or two, or three…'

Takeru knew his mother was the type to bury herself behind her work. It was just the very woman she happened to be. No, he didn't hate her for it. After all, she had single-handedly clothed and fed him with ease over the course of his childhood years thanks to her diligent work ethics and high-paying, not forgetting high-publicity job as a TV reporter slash personality. 'No', Takeru decided again, he did not hate her, nor was he angry or upset with her the way she was. In all honesty he just wished she wouldn't leave him alone for weeks—at times months—on end with nothing but the few, curt phone call check-ups spaced in-between. And so he sauntered along the brightly lit streets of Shinjuku, paying little attention to head anywhere in particular.

Willing his mind at ease, the blond observed with interest as others, typically the older working crowd rushed towards and out of train stations as he passed, determined to get home to family even a second earlier no doubt. He then watched languidly as dozens of four-wheeled vehicles traveled along the Ome-kaido, its drivers likely wielding similar objectives in mind. As Takeru strolled, the world around him seemed to blend into the distance—sights of bright neons merged into a nightly rainbow at each minute turn and the sounds of the hustle and bustle of shoes, wheels and the lowly hum of electrical machinery combined to form a sleepless yet soothing melody, flitting across the spring night time city atmosphere in a sort of audible mellow wave.

"Please, let me go!" The cry of English words had startled him, jarring the sleepless melody that had been his focus of hearing into the background. It was a woman's voice.

"Don't be like that doll," slurred a gruffer, deeper voice with a non-Japanese accent. This one was obviously male, and drunk, Takeru could tell. Suddenly alert and scanning the perimeter for the source of this commotion he found it upon the aid of a third speaker who sounded as lecherous as his phrasing of "Come on babe, we said we'd pay you."

The blond took in the situation with his eyes—three Caucasian men, drunk by the very unsure looks about their gait, not to mention their reddened faces. 'Foreigners', Takeru's mind chanted, then feeling an instant sense of unease as he noticed the girl sandwiched amongst the trio, their combination of hands unabashedly claiming her wrists, elbows, and another he could see at the side of her hip crawling dangerously lower still to the back of her skirt…

Instinctively, his eyes found her face, burning the evidence of her distress to the core of his memory—he had to do something. Wondering why no other passerby of the night time crowd had sought to intercept the unwanted exchange on the girl's part, Takeru boldly ignored the reasonings in his head that were yelling to him that he was outnumbered and nowhere near as stocky in build as the three grown men he was about to confront as he marched up towards them. Refusing to listen to the part of his conscience responsible for personal safety, he tapped onto the back of the nearest male's shoulder, doing his best to reel in his heightened anger as the man cast him an unfocused lazy eye.

"Let her go," he all but demanded sternly. The man merely shrugged him off with a snort.

"I said let her go!" He tried again, more commanding. He jerked a hand on the man's shoulder in an attempt to stop him from turning away from him when a wild punch came zooming at his face. Takeru avoided, thanking the drunk's lack of balance for the easy dodge and defensively launched a sweeping kick at his assailant's legs, sending the poor chap face-first into the cobblestone street with a wretched-sounding grunt.

"Why you-" threatened a second assailant and Takeru wasted no time sending him toppling to the ground as well with a little help from the girl he had been trying to assist having smartly struck her heel out under the man's feet. "Duck!" The blond warned her, all but cloth-lining the last drunk in surprisingly WWE fashion when she complied.

"Run!" He urged then, grabbing a hold of her hand and steering them both speedily from the scene before the trio sobering up enough to pursue became fact.

Ten straight minutes of running through the night crowd—being especially mindful to avoid other drunks—Takeru felt the slight tugs on his arm as the girl he'd been dragging by the wrist stumbled to keep up with his pace in her high heels. He slowed them down to a walk at that, eventually turning the corner into a quieter alleyway so they could both catch their breaths.

The blond leaned his back against the nearest bit of wall, panting rather laborly after this latest exertion. Heck he was a trained athlete but the severity of the situation had taken quite a bit out of him too. Taking in his immediate surroundings, Takeru found a silly need to reprimand himself—he was in the middle of Kabukichou, notorious red-light district of Shinjuku. After all, what other part of the specific ward had this many bars hanging around; and of course there was the exceedingly active nightlife and commonplace sight of foreigners. Talk about not paying attention to where one's going.

"You're a little young to be hanging around here at this time of night, don't you think," the appealing tone of his companion's feminine voice called his attention back to her.

As if truly seeing her for the first time that night Takeru drank in her appearance from head to toe—long, wavy auburn hair framing a fashionably made-up face and brown eyes. Accentuating her slender figure was a cropped soft grey-denim jacket over a black tank-top-like blouse, tucked in just below the waist with a horizontally striped mini skirt. Black thigh-high tights elongated her slim legs while white, laced-up ankle boot stilettos served to further define her very evident femininity.

The blond gulped perceptibly. "And whose fault is that," he croaked, immediately regretting the stupid guttural sound of his voice; even without noting the oddly amused look she was flashing him.

"You were already here before that you know," she offered, sounding calmer than before. Takeru guessed she was trying to help him ease out of his tense state. He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to relax if only a little.

"Wasn't…the plan," he admitted at length, looking back over towards the busy street. He had just wanted to prolong the return to his empty apartment. Heavens knew he'd end up in a red-light district of all places. But the blond teen didn't have time for contemplations. By sheer dumb luck he caught sight of the very three men he had so unceremoniously knocked down minutes ago, having apparently sobered up some.

As if drawn in by his sudden arousal of fear, one of the men likewise caught sight of him, then alerting the other two and making pointing gestures in his direction. "Shit," Takeru hissed, evidently throwed. And then he was racing down the rest of the alleyway as the girl he had saved minutes past had seen fit to drag him away from the hurried footfalls of their chasers. Too confused to argue, he said nothing as the red-head led him down a number of twists and turns and up a shallow flight of stairs before shoving him against a fairly obscure wall and pressing hard against him—some act of concealment.

Feeling their bodies collide, it was all Takeru could do to not voice the strange yearning he was beginning to feel tingling all over his skin. Where her body touched he swore his soul was on fire. Whoever this girl was he was clearly attracted to her. 'With good reason', his mind chimed, and damn it was starting to show.

"Where did they go?" More English phrases. Being able to make out what was said had to mean they were close. If anything, the girl's pressing herself even harder against him only certified the knowledge. A gasp escaped his unwilling lips, heat pooled in his nether regions as his breath came in short aching huffs.

"You guys hear something?" 'Darn stupid English words', Takeru cursed inwardly. 'Leave!' he willed. As for the life of him he knew not how to stunt his desperate need for air. In an instant however he realized his companion had an answer.

Cupping his face with her hands, the girl pulled him down to her height, then planting one full on his lips and he froze.

"Nothing, sheesh, let's try that way." Takeru heard the footsteps fade but his mind had to be a million miles away. Her lips were soft to the touch but she had certainly not laid it on him gently—this girl was kissing him hard, forcefully, hungrily. Or rather it was him who was hungry, hungry for more. And what with their bodies pressed up so intimately close.

Probably discerning it safe after a moment, she made to pull away but Takeru felt his craving get the better of him. He lurched forwards at her, giving no time for their lips to separate as he attacked with a lavish quality of force of his own. She was surprised he could tell when her lips parted abruptly at his animalistic display. And yet, for some reason he couldn't resist taking advantage of this. Takeru inserted his tongue, caressing her own with passionate fervor. His arms found their strength and pushed her up against the opposite wall, keeping her there as he in turn pressed his heated male body against her female one, trapping her so very severely in his lustfully violent kiss—his first kiss, and god was it good.

When at last he ended the kiss, albeit reluctantly needing the air to feed his lungs with precious oxygen, it occurred to him that she had not fought back. Curious, he feasted the sight of her with his aquamarine gaze. Face mere inches from his own, he knew now more than ever she was strikingly beautiful. Her eyes, the light shade of brown he had assumed them to be earlier was more a scarlet red now that he had looked at them carefully. Her copper hair was a slight mess from their running, lips parted attractively bore the minute smudge of matte lipstick on its outer corners. Takeru guessed he was to blame for that. But her eyes, 'gosh her scarlet eyes'. They gave her a dazed, dream-like appearance—the look of a woman thoroughly kissed, and somehow he wondered if maybe he too had that very expression on his face.

"Wow," she voiced, barely over a whisper; a highly sensual whisper if he was any judge.

"Wow," he agreed back as they shared a smile of sorts.