Ichiro’s scrambling footfalls loose mullock from the slope of the crater. It tumbles back, clattering. I wish he had forgotten about me. When our paths crossed on the street, I smiled instinctively, and my throat cinched up when his eyes steeled. I began to run and haven’t ceased. The rim of the crater crumbles now beneath my hands. If a force or god controlled my physics, it was this maniac. Ichiro grabs the cuff of my trousers, starting me reeling; I fall face forward into the sand pit. It is a soft landing which Ichiro makes too, his blade ready.