Author's Note: Aaaah. Sorry these updates are so slow. I tend to be forgetful these days.

Thanks so much for the feedback. All of it. I'm glad you're interested in this story. Thank you. :)

I hope you enjoy this longer update.

"You look like you could use another drink," the bartender sighed, putting exactly that in front of me, "Rough day?"

My hands trembled with both anxiety and excitement as I reached for the fresh glass, not even caring what the contents were anymore. "Something like that…" I responded, keeping my eyes low.

The buzz I'd been looking for was finally settling into my bloodstream. I'd attempted to stay straight all day; however, as the sun set over Ikebukuro, a certain twitch had me giving up once again. And who wouldn't? I already spent my day using payphone after payphone to call my girlfriend, never once receiving an answer. It hurt to be ignored as I desperately believed she didn't mean it when she kicked me out the night before. So, with that pain in mind, I deserved to get a little relief.

"Girl troubles?" he wondered, as if reciting a line from a cliché heartbreak movie.

I rolled my eyes, taking a generous swig of the gin and tonic. "Mind if I ask you not to pry?"

With an apologetic smile, he complied, wiping down my end of the bar before tending to other customers. At the opposite end, he started up a new conversation with a pair of men patiently waiting to be served.

While I could not hear what they were asking for, I watched with forced interest as a tan-skinned man with dreadlocks appeared to be harassing his taller, blond companion, co-worker, boyfriend, or whatever the hell they were meant to be. I was only that much more entertained, when the man doing said harassing was handed a generous pint, while the blond took a straight soda.

Not a drinker? Then get the hell out of a bar.

Catching my staring, the pair looked over with suspicious eyes, forcing me to avert my gaze back to my empty drink. The bartender quickly swapped it out for another.

"Regulars of yours?" I nonchalantly gestured to the men, keeping my words smooth.

"Sorta."

"So is that guy just taking a break or is he too much of a pussy to hold is liquor?"

I don't know why it bothered me that the blond wasn't drinking. I don't know why I cared.

"That guy!" the man had an honest look of stun scribbled across his face. "Officer Heiwajima don't drink, but he's the farthest thing from a pussy."

"Ah…" I shifted uncomfortably in my stool. "Cops?"

Just my luck… and the familiar sound of that name wasn't helping the situation much, either. I knew that name. I'd heard it before. But the memory was buried too far beneath the alcohol and less favorable thoughts to remember.

"Yeah. Damn good cops too. Had a few problems here a while back with some gangsters. These two come in, arrest a few thugs, and the entire neighborhood has been relatively crime-free ever since."

"I see… interesting…"

"Seriously!" he pressed on, continuing a conversation that I would have rather ended. "You oughtta see those guys. I wouldn't get on Officer Heiwajima's bad side. That guy goes nuts. Hates violence or some shit, but man, can he pack a punch."

Hates violence? It all seemed so familiar… and at the same time… no. It couldn't have been.

"They're staring, aren't they?" I smirked, sipping at my drink.

The bartender laughed a little, "Well, no offense, but we don't usually get guys like you in this place."

"Guys like me?" I echoed.

"Well, yeah. You're kinda the type that avoids this area."

"Oh…?" I leered skeptically, wondering what it was with people passing judgment before names were ever given. "What type is that?"

Of course, I was just as curious as I was irritated.

"The type that's in prison because of those guys you're wondering about," he seemed to feel guilty for what he was suggesting, quickly trying to cover for himself, "Not sayin' you are… but they may find you a little suspicious given their past encounters. I guess it's a look. I mean no harm by it."

Contemplating my current situation for a moment, I finished my drink and paid the guy who had just accidentally insulted me. Not wanting to make myself seem any more suspicious, I felt like I'd be better off at a new bar, one away from this area.

However, as I made my leave with the same stagger I usually carried myself with, I soon became aware that I was not alone.

Ignoring the sensations creeping up my spine, I walked down the street, using each accessible wall for support as I struggled to find the appropriate balance. It was not until my feet lead me to a particular vending machine that I stopped moving.

Rubbing my eyes, I blinked slowly at the lit up box, displaying each of its tantalizing contents to me. Whoever decided loading vending machines with alcohol was a good idea is a fucking genius because it took me all of five seconds for a fresh bottle of vodka to make it into my hands. Sliding down the wall, I made myself comfortable as I cracked it open and picked up where I left off.

I kept my thoughts to myself, deciding that now was as good a time as any to people watch. It was one of the few things that still remained hypnotic about Tokyo. The human life, no matter which city of the prefecture I found myself in, was limitless. All types of humans from cosplaying children to those workaholic businessmen who fall asleep on trains. It absolutely floored me to see each of them different, and all of them exactly the same, carrying on with their lives as if I did not exist… unless, of course, I was doing something to offend them.

For as much as I loved them, I couldn't help but feel just a little bitter that they could never look back at me with the same appreciative eyes.

"Hey, asshole. The fuck you think you're doing in this neighborhood?" a voice echoed in my head, far too distant as it was pushed back by a barrier of alcohol flowing through my system. "Hey, shithead! I'm talking to you!"

Realizing it would take at least twice the amount of vodka in my hands to truly drown out such an incessant and obnoxious voice, I glanced up at the guy who was practically dancing for my attention. In an instant, I found myself laughing at his ridiculous form as the world seemed to spin all around him.

"Problem, officer?" I grinned, setting my bottle down.

The idiot combed his stupid blond hair back with one of those idiotic combs that looks like a switchblade. Suddenly, I was tempted to pull the real thing out of my pocket.

"Yeah, there's a fuckin' problem!" he continued to mouth of, "We don't like your kind in this neighborhood, so get the fuck out!"

"Who is we?" I probed, quickly answered by three others approaching to back him up.

Was he really so threatened by me that he needed help scaring me off? I really didn't care.

"I see," I chuckled, "And what is my kind, exactly? Because I fear that you may be affiliating me with somebody I am not likely affiliated with, and that's just rude."

"Dirt bag!" he growled, "It's all 'cause of guys like you the cops are constantly lurking. We can't do shit without that Heiwajima comin' around the corner!"

Sighing, I tucked my bottle into my pocket, bringing myself to stand on quivering knees. "Seriously? I think you're accusing the wrong man, man," I exaggerated offense. "I haven't been to this part of Ikebukuro since I was a kid. So you can accuse me of petty crimes all you want, but that doesn't make it true."

I admit I was proud for sounding so casual despite the alcohol in my blood stream. I had nearly forgotten how lightheaded I truly was, especially when I found my way out of the sticky situation.

"Isn't that right, Officer?"

I snickered, watching the four thugs turn around with panic-filled eyes as the pair of cops approached the scene. The tall blond wore a familiar scowl on his face as be plucked the cigarette from his lips; throwing it to the ground to stomp out its remnants of life with the sole of his shoe.

With the spotlight off of me, I took my cue to disappear. Turning the nearest corner, I slipped down an alley, escaping to a perfect getaway to finish off the rest of my bottle in peace.