Chapter Six
My smell finally came back. But just barely and I finally stopped aching all over. It shouldn't have taken me that long to heal. I'd say I was getting old, but I should be just hitting my prime right about now. It would be just typical if only my full lycan form got to reap those benefits while my human one aged at a different rate. It's happened before.
Either way, first things first. Got to find my gun.
What a pain in the ass.
Funny thing about having such a strong sense of smell, it isn't as easy as you think to find something that your scent is all over. Because the first scent you get used to is your own. It's possible to pick up your own scent trail, but it's unnatural and difficult. A simple solution would be to "mark" my items. And by "mark" I mean piss on them. Urine's a special scent on its own and isn't natural to my nose. But, I'm not about to smell like piss all day. So instead I focused on the cordite in my gun to speed up the process. I found my gun lying on a roof top some 200 yards away. I checked the cylinder. One bullet was missing. My smell must not be at 40% yet. If the gun had been fired, then the cordite scent would be stronger.
I also would've smelled Sayuki's blood.
I had a bitter pill to swallow. Sayuki was hurt bad. By me. The knife was just topping it off, putting special emphasis on it. Just the knife alone couldn't be enough to threaten her life. I had to have nearly beaten her to death. And she lied about it. I can imagine why. It wouldn't be easy to see me going berserk from pain and attacking her, and even less easy to talk to me about it. I couldn't even remember it. I must've looked like hell, out of control as I had to be. Hmph. So that's what she meant about seeing me humbled, but not being able to enjoy it. I was at my weakest while she was fighting for her life. I was attacking her after all. It was some kind of good fortune that I didn't turn.
If I had she would be… Why didn't I?
If the dragon's breath was so powerful, I lost control, I should've changed in that same moment. Or maybe I wouldn't. Turning full lycan would give a stronger sense of smell. That might give it more opportunity to hurt me. No. That's not it either. My pain tolerance is far higher when I'm in full lycanthrope form. Anything too much for me to handle in that form too would've put me in no shape whatsoever to attack Sayuki, while still in human form. Not to the extent where I could beat her half to death.
I let out a low, frustrated breath and slipped my gun back in my holster. "Damn it. How could I be so stupid?"
No. That's not the question I should be asking. I need to be asking myself what was it that Sayuki knew that set this current situation off. She'd said she'd heard rumors, but for the sniper to target her, they must've been fucking accurate ones. To figure out what Sayuki knew, I didn't have many options. The one group that knew wouldn't be willing to chat right now. Especially not if Sayuki doesn't make it. But I knew where Sayuki and the other bakenekkos, among other beings, liked to gather. It was a long shot, but seemed like as good a place as any to start.
But first, I needed a change of clothes.
I owned three different spots in Tokyo. One was a suite in the Park Hyatt, while the other two were in much smaller apartment complexes on opposite ends of the city. I had others in different cities, like Kyoto or Nagoya. All were owned under different false names I've acquired during the years. It was a hassle making sure all of them were stocked with what I needed. But they were necessary. Anyone who sought my life would have to get lucky enough for me to show up at one of my many residences.
And even if they were, they'd be coming after Kobe. Not Whipscar.
I got down to ground level, wiped off as much blood from my hands as I could in the snow, and hailed a taxi. I could've turned and went from rooftop to rooftop, but I just wasn't in the mood. Besides, the shooting and chase aside, I was trying to maintain a low profile. Which is a purpose defeated by staying at one of the most luxurious hotels in Tokyo, I imagine. The cabbie, a man just teetering on the edge of middle aged and elderly with a grungy looking bucket hat, looked somewhat dubious during the whole ride, especially after I said my destination. My clothes were scuffed up badly and I had to smell funny, even to a human. I suppose I didn't give the appearance of most people who asked to be taken there. The good thing about the Japanese was they weren't a nosy bunch. And most cabbies the world over tend not to stick their noses into other people's business, or even talk to them, unless the passenger looks friendly. And I'm told I don't look friendly. Yet, in spite of his misgivings about me from appearances, he didn't sweat bullets on me like other people whose cabs I'd ridden in. And didn't seem particularly afraid of me. He didn't perceive me as a real threat to him. Not judgmental based on skin color, just overall appearances. I can respect that on some level. Call it the canine-likeness in me, reacting to someone showing some steel.
So I paid the fare and slipped him two ¥10,000 bills as tip. His eyebrows shot up at the same time his jaw dropped down. "Here," I told him in Japanese with one of my wolfish grins on my face. "Go buy yourself a nicer hat, youngin." I climbed out the cab before he could finish sputtering out his thanks.
I flashed my room keycard to the smiling receptionist and took the rearmost elevator. I slid the card through the wall mounted reader which took me directly to my suite. I found myself smiling faintly along the ride, my thoughts drifting. She would've thought this was amazing. A piece of plastic able to take you where you wanted to go. She was born in a time when plastic didn't even exist and going anywhere naturally took a long time. She was a rare breed. Beings as old as she weren't supposed to care what mortals did in their brief lifetimes, but she found something special about what their technology, about their creativity. It was one of the reasons why she never fed on humans. Ever. She found them too interesting.
Like she found me too interesting. Perhaps too much…
I shook the old memories away. Now wasn't the time to reminisce about the past. I had things in the present to worry about. The doors opened and I stepped into the suite. I gave the expansive living room a once over, visual and olfactory wise. Everything seemed just as I left it. I stepped off elevator as it dinged and the doors slid shut. I counted to three and leaned my head to the side. An orange and black figure swept through the space my head was just occupying.
"Ah ha!"
It landed on its face and slid into a couch, causing an irritating scrapping sound of metal on tile along the way. "Aw. I thought I'd hid my scent. What gave me away, sensei?" it moaned as it bounced to its feet, fiddling with the black forehead protector that had a long scuff mark on it now.
"Because you're an idiot," I muttered, making my way to the bedroom (which wasn't a room at all since this suite had no interior walls, just as I wanted), flicking on the lights as I passed them.
"You won't be saying that when I'm Hokage someday! Dattebayo!" it exclaimed, raising a clenched fist in a pose similar to the "up yours" gesture. Apparently in Japan, it was some kind of victory pose or some bullshit.
"Two cosplayers in one day. Why am I so fucking lucky?" I grumbled as I sat down in my chair and untied my boots.
"Cosplaying? What are you talking about? I'm Uzumaki Naruto, future Hokage of Konoha!" his voice came from somewhere above me. I glanced up to see it sitting upside down on the ceiling, next to a light fixture. I could now see that his hair was blonde and spiky. His eyes were bright blue with three lines reminiscent of whiskers on each cheek. "I'm not too caught up on that kid show shit, but even I know Naruto isn't black," I said. "Who cares, sensei? Naruto's cool! Besides, if I changed my skin color, then we wouldn't be brothers, sensei."
I shook my head and muttered, "Fucking imps."
Imps. Minor demons. Major pains in my ass. Most of them were once powerful demons that fell from grace- or whatever the evil inverse was- and got most of their powers striped away. All that was left behind was some watered down version that didn't spread evil as much as general mischief. They could be dangerous, but almost never on purpose, at least not in whatever way they intend to be. Like all demons, they were old. But they generally acted like children, doing things for fun or on impulse. It was impossible to gauge them magic wise. One moment they're too weak to light a match, the next they can conjure up enough power to blow up this entire building. And then use that power to light the candle. Which would probably destroy the entire area, and leave the candle still untouched.
This particular imp, my alpha and me stumbled upon about 80 years ago. It didn't have a name. Not because imps don't have one, but because this imp didn't remember it. From what the imp told me, every 100 years it "loses its memory" and spends each 100 year period trying to get those memories back. But because the imp doesn't remember what those memories are, it makes the memories up. Meaning the imp'll spend all it's time searching for fake memories by reenacting memories that it just makes up on the spot.
Saying that doesn't make any fucking sense is like saying water is kind of wet. How could it know it loses its memory every 100 years? Wouldn't it lose the memory of it losing its memory? Does that mean it made up losing its memory so it could fake searching for memories every 100…
Oh fuck it. No matter the reason, the imp's current 100 year spin has it thinking it's a lycanthrope, that it was a part of our pack. However, being the brilliant imp that it is, he assumed that I was the alpha of the group. It didn't matter what I told it. My alpha thought it was cute so she didn't mind. I couldn't escape it. It could somehow follow me around everywhere I went, showing up anywhere at any time at random points. It didn't even call me by the right title. It changes up my title every so often as with the times or whatever weird thing he likes at the moment. It got irritating when the imp started calling me his "nigga" in the 70s. And even worse he shifted his appearance to resemble a much, much younger version of me. If anyone who saw us together, they'd think he was my damn child. But thankfully, the imp doesn't like going out and about in public. It usually pops up in my house whenever it feels like it, so it can work on my last nerves.
At least now he was calling me "sensei."
"So, did you kill the cat, curiosity?" it asked with a snicker.
The best way to deal with the imp was to just tell it what it wants to know. It'll go away. Eventually. "No. She wasn't involved. But she said she's heard rumors."
"And what are they?"
I got up and put everything away in the closet space. "I don't know yet. I need to find out where she heard those rumors, so I'm heading to The Underground. I'm just here to regroup, change, and head back out."
The imp was sitting on the wall over the closet now. I never saw or heard it move. "Um. Why didn't you just ask her yourself?"
"Didn't get the chance." I told the imp about what happened. The sniper, the mist, the knife, everything. I'd gain nothing by holding information from the imp.
When I was finished the imp let out a low whistle. "Cool. A rooftop chase? That's so exciting, sensei! A shame you let 'em get the drop on you though. You should've seen it coming. I wish I was there. I would've let that guy have a taste of my Rasengan, dattebayo!"
I snorted. A small tendril of fire snaked up my nose. Shit! It was still in my nose? Damn it. I was about to head to the shower when the imp flipped off the wall and landed in front of me. It held a hand over its eyes and peered at me, like there was a light shining in the imp's face. There wasn't, at least not from my point of view. "Get out of my way, imp," I growled.
"Just a second. You've got something glowing on your forehead, sensei," the imp said. Then it blew some blue dust into its hand, bounced up, and snatched something off my forehead.
Son of a bitch, it hurt. Like he just ripped out something imbedded deep in my skin. I jerked away, hand to my head against the throbbing portion of my skin. I had to steel myself against crying out. "What the fuck, imp?"
The imp held up its palm. Floating above it, trapped in a small blue globe of light was a yellow, two dimensional symbol. Portions of the symbol were missing, as if they were rubbed out, but I could still recognize it.
Signum vomica. A curse seal.
Signum vomica was a ancient spell that could allow the user to contain, manipulate, or cancel out the mystical properties and energies of magical beings, such as a lycanthrope's abilities. I know of it because The Creed laced their weapons with spells that were based on the same principal. But they were watered down, less perfect versions of the real thing. At best, those weapons could only disrupt a beings abilities temporarily. The spell was difficult, needing precise control of magic. If you tried it and failed, it could backfire and either destroy the user outright, cancel out their own magical abilities, or make the intended target exponentially stronger for a short period of time, which would end up with the same result for the user.
It wasn't practical to use in battle, because of how simple it was to mess up. No. It wasn't just not practical. It was suicidal. And somehow one had gotten onto my forehead? Was it the sniper? Then the level of this opponent was…
Shit. I'd never manage a signum vomica even if I had weeks of preparation time. It was too delicate for me. And what's more, when did he do it? Was he so powerful he could do it without me or Sayuki noticing?
"That's weird," the imp said. He had been holding up the seal, examining it. "There's something written on it. And they used their own blood to do it." Then the imp reached inside the bubble and…peeled something off the seal, like someone had stuck an invisible sticker to it. He blew more blue dust onto it and the thing he was holding started glowing blood red.
My eyes widened.
"That's pretty stupid of someone. And it shouldn't be here. Messes up the whole seal." The imp shrugged. And the writing and the globe it was written in shattered into nothing. "Oh well. I'm done with this. Here, sensei, you can have it back now."
He held the seal up to me. I flinched away. "What the fuck are you doing?"
The imp pursed its lips in a frown. "You always told me to put things back where I found it. I found it on your forehead. And someone went through all the trouble to make it. It'd be rude if I didn't put it back, right? Or am I allowed to…" The imp's mouth opened up, splitting into the skin of its face. A literal ear to ear grin of tiny, sharp teeth. Its eyes sparkling bright red. "…take and keep whatever I want now?"
The fucking imp. If I didn't handle this right, there's no telling the damage it'll do. "No, you can't. That seal is..." Think, Whipscar, think. "…a gift."
"A gift? For me?" His grisly smile shrank, but his eyes kept sparkling.
"N-no. From you."
It frowned. "From me?"
"Yes. I want you to go out and find someone to give that to. It can't be me. It can't be any bakenekkos. And whoever you give it to can't know you've given it to them. Think of it as…a game. Or…training. Now go. Start from the other side of the city and work your way back."
The imp started hopping around the place, bouncing off walls, and the ceiling. I half expected him to start breaking everything.
"Yes! I'm all over it, sensei! I won't let you down! Dattebayo!" Then it bounced straight at the window. I winced, expecting him to crash through it. Instead he melted through it, leaving the glass unscathed, and fell out of sight.
I let out a long breath and sank down on the edge of my bed. The imp would do exactly as I said. I was sure of it. I don't even know why I said what I did. Maybe the imp was manipulating me somehow. Frankly, at that moment, I didn't really care. The writing he peeled off the signum volmica was a kanji.
Of Sayuki's name.
Written in blood.
On a signum vomica.
Now I knew. I knew what Sayuki did to make the splitting headache go away, which I'd scarcely given second thought to. I knew why I'd attack Sayuki, and not the sniper who I was directly pissed at. And I knew why Sayuki didn't heal once it was over.
Because Sayuki had redirected the signum vomica.
Onto herself.
