"Is this the police? Yeah, I'm Kai Reiji, and I work for the bank of Tokyo. My partner and I have been knocked out and our uniforms stolen. Two guys have taken our van, they've stolen the money.

"Yeah, tall red head, Caucasian, and a guy with long blond hair. They both looked pretty desperate. Poor, rough, you know. I don't know how they managed it. I mean, I lost control of my body, right, like I was being contro-

"I know it sounds like bullshit! Look, these guys have stolen enough money to buy several apartment blocks, and around here, let me tell you, that's a hell of a lot of money!"

A guard approached the van and reached into the back. Normal procedure. Schuldig forced himself to sit still and concentrate on the task at hand. He had to convince a score or so of people that he belonged here. He wished they'd been doing this in Europe, or that Yohji had been the telepath. He stuck out like a sore thumb.

There was a yell and Schuldig caught a wave of confused panic. Guards started to crowd around the van. Schuldig climbed out and joined them around the back.

Shit.

Yohji had left the case open.

There was the sound so twenty rifles being cocked. It was not a pleasant sound by any account. Schuldig stared around. There were too many variables to control. There should have been two guards in the van. Schuldig wasn't Japanese. Many of these guards knew the two Schuldig and Yohji had taken out, and would have recognised the usual guys on sight. A call had just come through; this particular van had been hijacked.

Schuldig decided to cut his losses and run. He paused long enough to make them forget how to use their guns and what he looked like and fled, leaping over the high security fence like an Olympic hurdler. The barbed wire shredded his trousers but he kept running. Shouts and sirens were going off now, people running and yelling and guns going off as confused guards tried to work out what they were holding.

Schuldig kept running, ducking into an underground station and leaping onto a departing train, not bothering to check where it was headed. Anyone who had seen him running immediately assumed it was because he'd been on the verge of missing his train.

The carriage he was in swiftly emptied, due in no small part of Schuldig's last-ditch efforts. Physically and mentally exhausted he collapsed across a row of seats. He'd left his work suit in the bank van, but he still had his gun. He glance down at his clothes and grimaced. The crotch of the trousers was shredded and sweat stained the jacket.

A young man walked into the carriage, stripped and sat down quietly in a corner. Schuldig put on his clothes and took the time to tie the young man up. Better than leaving him to be accused of the bank robbery. Schuldig gave a wry grimace. Yohji must be wearing off on him.

Speaking of Yohji, that assassin had a lot to answer for. Assassins weren't supposed to make those sorts of mistakes. Schuldig sighed as he flopped back down into a seat. Well, even if Yohji had closed the case, it would only have bought him a few more minutes. Fate had conspired against them. The train slid to a stop and the doors snicked open allowing a multitude of tired workers to swarm in and Schuldig to clamber out. He snatched a hat from one guy and stuffed as much of his own flaming hair as he could under it.

He groaned when he saw where he was. It was a good hour's walk back to the flat. He didn't even have enough money on him to hail a taxi. He dug into the stranger's pockets and produced a handful of change. He wanted to call Yohji and ask for a lift, but it occurred to him that not only did Yohji not have anything to give him a lift in but he didn't have a phone to answer Schuldig's call on. He resigned himself to walking.

It was a tired, dusty and sore Schuldig who crawled up the concrete steps to the top floor of the rancid block of flats. The smells of vomit and beer and leftovers seemed particularly pungent, the plaster particularly flaky, the built up layers of filth particularly intrusive. Schuldig was desperate for a shower and some sleep, but he knew he wouldn't get either tonight. He reached the flat shortly before the police did.

'Our neighbour called and told them he'd overheard us planning a heist,' Schuldig signalled Yohji wearily. 'We have a matter of minutes to hide the loot.'

'Where?' Yohji asked frantically. They both stared around the tiny room. It was almost bare of furniture. Prying up the floorboards would only give them a view into the flat below. Highly illegal and the cause of the occasional death in the apartments, but the chipboard was thick enough to hold most people, which had staved off any enquiries. The door of the stove had fallen off of its hinges a while ago and the toilet cistern had no lid. The futon was too thin to hide anything under; it would mold itself over whatever was put under it and would disguise it like a sheet over an elephant.

Schuldig collapsed onto the futon. It made a soft whistling noise as air was forced between the failing seams and the scent of dead insects and old cigarettes wafted in a gentle breeze up the wall. The piece of paper pinned over the hole in the wall flapped gently. Both men slowly turned to stare at it.

Footsteps echoed up the stairs as Schuldig and Yohji shoved wad after wedge of money into the space between the walls, not really caring about how they would get it out again. The space that was supposed to be full of insulation was filling up with money.

The door burst open just as they smoothed the paper back down. It occurred to Yohji that as the only hiding place in the room it would be the first place the police searched, but apparently it didn't occur to them. Schuldig, drenched in sweat, rubbing his head, trembling with fatigue, smirked at them.

There were more men than the room could conceivably hold, even if they all lay down on top of each other. Yohji and Schuldig were hustled out of the room while two men went through it, lifting up the futon and peering around the toilet. It didn't take them long to search the whole room, which was a blessing. Schuldig was leaning heavily on Yohji, struggling to concentrate on the questions the police were firing at them.

"Are either of you employed?" No. "Where have you been for the past four hours?" Here. "Do you have anyone who can back that up?" Hiroko-chan. "What were you doing?" Having sex… "With… with the young woman?" No. "I… see. Please accompany us to the station for further questioning." No. "That will be all. Thank you for your time." You're welcome. "Sorry to bother you…"

The confused men and women started to walk away. Yohji waved and smiled, Schuldig struggled to remain standing. They slumped back into the room. Yohji lifted the paper and smiled down at the cash, bundled between rusty pipes and torn cables. Schuldig lay back on the futon, arms tucked behind his head. He had one final task before he could rest his overtaxed mind.

The following day their next-door neighbour was taken to an asylum, gibbering and drooling.

The sun hauled itself over the horizon, dragging Tokyo's finest out of bed to join it for another reluctant day in the city. Schuldig and Yohji, now gentlemen of leisure, ignored it.

Schuldig rolled onto his side, propping himself on one elbow. One pale hand brushed blond hair out of shadowed eyes, still closed against the hazy brightness of the morning sun. One of his companion's eyes cracked open to reveal a jade slit that ran appreciatively along Schuldig's body. Schuldig's impressively naked body.

"No," Yohji murmured. "Schu, we had this discussion."

"Sure we did, then we had sex," Schuldig smirked down at the Japanese man. "Come on, everything's okay now. We've got our money, we can pay off our debts, life is peachy. The proverbial happy ending."

"No, Schu, it isn't. It's not okay." Yohji sat up, anguish scrawled across his face. "Sex doesn't make it okay. If you hadn't trapped my hands you would have died in that cupboard. Believe what you like, but that's the truth. There's no guarantee that next time I won't manage to turn around and strangle you. I don't want you to have to take over my body to stop me."

Schuldig frowned at him. "I thought… I figured one good shag and that would be it. You'd be cured. If you can have sex without strangling me once, why shouldn't it happen again?"

Yohji laughed, a sorrowful sound. "Why indeed?" he murmured. "Schuldig, you're right. We could fuck for decades without anything happening. But that doesn't mean I'm cured. One day I won't be able to control myself, one day you won't be able to control me, and then there'll be one less German in Japan." He stood up slowly, stretching sinuously. "Schuldig, I don't want to take that risk. No matter how much I want you," he reached over Schuldig and started pulling his share of the money out of the wall, "no matter how much I need you," he shoved it into a bag and put on his boots, "no matter…" he leant in the doorway, looking back for the last time, "…how much I love you, I can't take that risk."

And he was gone.