Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, all credit goes to Rumiko Takahashi.
Lotus Stalks.
As the cicadas hide among the shade trees and trimmed hedges, their summer song rides the breeze as a heat wave crosses the grounds of the Hiyama Estate.
The golden eye of Heaven looms over the oriental gardens of the estate. The crystal clear waters of the six interlinked koi ponds circulate steadily, and various aquatic plants float on the surface while the scales of playful fish glisten below. Pink and gold lotus flowers sway to and fro on their long stocks.
At the heart of the largest pond rests an open pagoda obscured by thin leaning tree branches and leaves. Here, the Patriarch of the Hiyama Family resided, trying to meditate.
Within the little octagon-shaped room sitting on a cushy pillow in the lotus position was the old man. On the floor at his left side rests an active incense fountain with thick smoke flowing out of the base like running water. The thick rolling smoke climbs and curls around him covering the tatami mats. A groan leaves the old man's lips as he breaks his concentration to pull at the collar of his plain gray yukata in discomfort. The heat was making it nearly impossible for him to focus.
His old eyes suddenly shift to the doorway of the room, then to the cinnabar dragon resin tray at his side. It had mysteriously appeared next to him. He quickly looks around for the culprit, but there is none to be found. Old man gazes fondly back down at the contents of the tray, skewered melon balls and mint leaves laying over crushed ice. A soft expression forms on his face at the spheres of orange, white and green.
Just as he brings one to his mouth and parts his lips to eat, the sound of a car approaching catches his attention. He lifts one of his bushy wrinkled brows, staring out of the doorway. Outside a black limousine pulls up in the driveway. So his guests had arrived earlier than expected, excellent. That damn dog was overly punctual as always. No matter, things would proceed as scheduled.
The old man's wrinkled lips claim one of the spheres off of the wooden skewer in his hand. He munches while slowly climbing to his feet, not wanting to keep his guests waiting.
~Magnolia Black~
On the tallest roof of the Shiro (castle/mansion), a young schoolgirl dressed in a short black sailor fuku with a Neko backpack and matt black rifle across her back stood looking out across the estate.
The black fringe running across her forehead and the dangling wisps the sides of her cheeks were soaked with sweat from the sun. Her piercing gray eyes fall upon a part of the roof that overlooks the garden, seemingly an excellent to set up shop.
With a quick breath of confidence, she takes off running across the shingles. Her lean legs flex as her loafer covered feet move stealthily along the burnt red tiles with practiced ease. Her long obsidian pigtails fly away from her shoulders, dancing up in the air behind her.
She leaps and bounds across the various levels of roofing, her uniform fluttering. She glances down at the curved edge of the roof approaching and jumps onto a slanted beam, sliding down. Stealing herself after a tuck and roll, she stretches her body evenly across the shingles. She reaches into the bag behind her and pulls out a pair of binoculars. Ever so slowly she creeps toward the edge of the roof, her eyes calmly gaze through binoculars at the gates near the garden. A black limo drives through the gates of the property.
She observes the car carefully as a group of bodyguards surround the car guarding the man and woman who emerge. Having gathered intel earlier, she slips a manila folder out of her yellow neko backpack and opens it. Her eyes scan over the letters written on the page before refocusing on the image between her fingers. She shifts her gaze from the picture back into the binoculars.
Chouji Tashio. Age 34. He is the president of the Tashio Group, a collection of high society clubs, hotels, and casinos. Chouji's overall appearance screamed of power, and his phenomenal physique is displayed handsomely by the cobalt Emporio Armani suit he dons.
The sunlight glides across his dark silver hair that is tied high on his skull. His silver waterfall of strands spills past his lower back shining brightly. The girl's eyes drop down to the file, scanning over the name and image before returning her gaze to her secondary prey. The small woman on Chouji's arm came into view.
Izayoi (Formally Mishima) Tashio. Age 36. Former Top Guyver Model and Miss Japan. Married Chouji Tashio at Age 18. She gave birth to her son, Yasha, at age 20.
Izayoi gives her husband a smile that touches her deep violet eyes. A stray breeze kicks up some of her loose dark brown hair, leaving it to fall in lengths across her lower back. Her diamond shaped face and good features proved her to be a model as her file stated.
Izayoi's tomesode( formal kimono) is navy blue in color. At the bottom of the tomesode are delicate patterns of silver cranes and golden chrysanthemums. Her polished bamboo sandals click pleasantly against the pathway of stones as her husband leads her carefully up the path to the garden.
~Magnolia Black~
The girl on the roof shifts her binoculars toward another spectator. Following close behind the couple is the form a young man with black, wild and wavy hair. Dressed in a dark business suit, he appears lean, strong looking, and exceptionally skilled. His usually cold eyes brighten at the sight of an old figure closing the distance. It is his grandfather.
Kisaragi Hiyama. Age 19. Occupation: Assassin/Personal Bodyguard to the Tashio family. Entered as a hired assassin at the age of sixteen.
The schoolgirl on the roof watches Kisaragi smirk at his Grandfather as the old man walks over a red bridge above the pond to greet them.
"Kisaragi! Izaiyoi! Aren't you two a sight for sore eyes!" The old man guffaws as he makes his way over, clicking his cane.
The old man eyes fly up to Chouji, his irritation quickly shows at the man's towering stature. The silver haired man only chuckles at the feistiness of the oldtimer.
"Grandfather," Kisaragi bows respectfully, his hair falling over his shoulders.
"My such a fine man you've grown into Kisaragi." He states proudly.
"Long time no see Takashi, my old friend." Chouji greets the man fondly. He quickly dodges the end of the cane that flies toward him.
"Keh, don't you "old friend" me ya bastard! You know it's been five years Toga-san, and ya still haven't got a single wrinkle! Damned Tashio's certainly are blessed to have such a curse. Good looks forever and beautiful women. Your wife has always been your only redeeming quality, dog!" Takashi fusses as he shakes his head.
Izayoi giggles modestly at her husband's crestfallen expression. She pats Chouji's arm softly and kisses his cheek.
"Now Takashi, I would appreciate if you did not bully my husband!" She scolds playfully.
"Of course! Where are my manners? Come! We shall have refreshments in the garden." Takashi laughs gesturing them to follow.
The schoolgirl kisses her rifle, before setting down and locking into place. With one eye closed, she slowly positions the crosshairs of her sniper rifle on the Chouji as the group begins to walk into the garden.
The center of the crosshair falls dead center on the back of his head, following as he and his wife walk toward the koi pond. The girl's pink tongue slides across her bottom lip as her finger slowly curls around the trigger. Kisaragi follows behind the Taisho's. His eyes flit back and forth as he surveys his surroundings for potential threats. Kisaragi suddenly catches a flickering object out of the corner of his eye.
The schoolgirl becomes aware of Kisaragi's face in her crosshairs and quickly rolls out of view clutching her rifle to her breasts. Kisaragi squints his eyes at movement on the roof. He moves his hand into his jacket going right for his concealed gun. The girl's eyes stare up at the sky, burning with girlish splendor. She ignores the uncomfortable pressure of the shingles against her back as she smiles widely.
He was a sharp one, that man. However, the game was just beginning.
Until next time, GR.
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