A/N: If you guys get this story to 100 reviews I'll love you forever! :P
IMPORTANT - This is the last chapter to be posted before I start a Master's program I've been preparing for for the past several months. From Wednesday on I will most likely have less time to write:( But...BUT I will be continuing the story and I will find a way to produce quality chapters at a regular pace. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, especially to my anonymous reviewers: "anon", "miss g", and "reader in disguise". I couldn't send you PM's so I thought I'd say thanks here. Also, to everyone who's posted long, in-depth reviews, I soooooo appreciate your feedback. You don't even know.
Now onto other business.
1) Picture: A picture of Rin is referenced in this chapter. It will be available for view on my deviant art page soon: ep462 . deviantart. com. On that note, icegirljenni, who many of you may already know, has a wonderful S/R website up called rin-sess . com . My work has been featured there, as well as many others' drawings and stories. Check it out! It's really cool:)
2) Rin's Age: If anyone is confused, I'll just give you the dates now. Rin was born in the winter of 1472. It's been approximately 502 years since her disappearance in 1487. Hope that clears things up:)
3) Songs: There is a song referenced in this chapter that I would definitely recommend listening to. It's called "Sukiyaki" or "Ue o Muite Aruko" (translation: "I Look Up When I Walk"). It was a pop hit in the 1960's both in Japan and the US. I have the link to listen to it posted on my profile. Also, as a little disclaimer, I do not own the song "Spoon Full of Sugar" from Mary Poppins.
Okay, enjoy and please review! Reviews are the butter to my bread!
Chapter XIV Keeping One's Word
Kyoto, 1989
Five days after Rin's trip to Ginza...
"That's her?"
"Yep," Hakuzo answered, running his palms over his smooth head. He and Nogitsune had been standing in this spot for near a half hour already, and it was only now that the mark was showing her face. Looking at his wristwatch, he calculated that she'd started her evening run about twenty two minutes late. That might be a problem, he thought. They'd have to get the ball rolling.
"She's cute," his partner interrupted his thoughts.
"She's a job. Remember that."
"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever. She's a mighty fine job. Just look at that ponytail swing." Nogitsune whistled a slow note as the young girl jogged by, but she didn't hear him over the music of her walkman.
"Oh Inari, I love human girls nowadays. They all wear those tiny shorts and run everywhere. What's her name again?"
"Did you even read my message?"
"Sure I did!" Nogitsune leaned forward, eyes trained on the girl. Then smirking, he said, "She's the great granddaughter of...of...some big wig kotengu or something."
"If you want to call him that, yes," Hakuzo mumbled sarcastically. "Her name is Ono Momoe."
"Well she looks absolutely delicious."
Rolling his eyes, Hakuzo touched his partner on the arm. He could feel Nogitsune's muscles tense as he slowly said, "I don't know if you meant that in the right way or the wrong way, young fox, but I'll only say this one more time. She's not cute, she's not delicious, and she's most definitely not fine. You know what she is. What is she, young fox? Tell me what she is."
There was a pause as Nogitsune glared down at Hakuzo; he was a good two feet taller than his little bald partner, but their height differential had never changed who ran the show.
Pulling his arm away, he grumbled, "Fine. She's a job. Yuh happy?"
"Not particularly. Now lets get started."
...
In ev'ry job that must be done... There is an element of fun...
As the birds tweeted in her headphones, and the cars honked on the street, Ono Momoe ticked up the volume on her SONY walkman and picked up her pace. Julie Andrews was her favorite.
You find the fun and snap!... The job's a game...
Reaching up and adjusting her headphones, Momoe thought about how she was finally going to be free. She was finally going to leave her great grandfather and his world.
And ev'ry task you undertake... Becomes a piece of cake...
He'd been using her for years—ever since she'd been a small child. Using her pretty face as a front with the human authorities. Using her body when her human qualities became profitable. Never respecting her. Never loving her...like family should. She was done now.
A lark! A spree! It's very clear to see that...
She'd been planning her escape for months.
A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down!
Her great grandfather had no idea of course. As far as he knew, she'd been a good girl and was quietly waiting for him to summon her. He had no idea, she'd be boarding an airplane tomorrow.
The medicine go dow-wown... The medicine go down...
She smiled to herself. It was somewhat funny that even though she had never been able to fly like her kin, she would finally escape them by air. She would escape on the wings of humanity's strength, humanity's progress.
Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down...
"In a most delightful way," she sang softly to herself, arms pumping, and feet pounding the pavement.
For the first time in years Momoe truly felt happy. She jumped over an overturned trashcan and avoided the cracks in the pavement. Tomorrow! Tomorrow she was going to fly West and leave everything for good.
A robin feathering his nest... Has very little time to rest...
The night was cool and the streets around her apartment building were busy as usual. Momoe loved running. She'd been built to enjoy speed and the wind. Even if her yokai blood had been greatly diminished by her human grandmother, her lineage was such that she had a kind of natural vivacity. A natural lift. As well as, unfortunately for her, a somewhat large nose.
While gathering his bits of twine and twig...
Momoe weaved her way through the crowds of people. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she felt her calve muscles tighten and the forming blister on her left foot compress.
Though quite intent in his pursuit...
Rounding a corner, her long brown pony tail bouncing to the music, Momoe never saw the little bald man in her way.
"Oof!" she grunted, falling back onto the pavement.
"Oh excuse me! I'm so sorry, miss!" The man grabbed her hand to help her up. He had a real politeness about him and his hands were ever so soft. Like a baby's, Momoe thought absently. He had soft eyes too. Her headphones were around her neck now, but she could still hear the song.
He has a merry toon to toot...
Now on her feet, she brushed herself off and gave the little bald man a once over. Even though he had not one hair on his head, the man did look well-kept in his cable knit sweater, khaki shorts, and pristine, white loafers.
He hadn't let go of her hand yet.
What are you? She thought.
He knows a song will move the job along...
He apologized again.
"Oh it's...it's okay, don't worry about it," she replied, smiling as she pulled her hand out of his grip. He relented and stepped back nodding his apology.
"It's really okay. I'm fine. Thanks for the help. Have a nice evening!" she waved and began to run again, trying but failing to shake off her sudden unease.
A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down...
"Oh wait!" the bald man called after her, and Momoe ripped her headphones off, exasperated.
"Yeah?" she called back.
With three quick strides, the stranger came to her and gave a quick bow.
The medicine go dow-wown...
"Ono Momoe. I am very sorry."
"Excuse me?"
"Your fate has been decided. I'm sorry you ever had to meet me."
"I-I'm not sure wha—"
"Your great grandfather has given me an order that I must, unfortunately for you, carry out."
The bald man put his hands together and gave her a small, pitying smile.
Something clicked in Momoe's mind and the words, "Kitsune-shikaku," escaped her lips before she could stop herself. She knew exactly who this man was.
The medicine go down...
He made the blood in her veins run cold.
"Indeed," he whispered.
"Why...?"
"Did you think he would not notice, little bird? Your great grandfather is a bit of a simpleton, but he could tell your intentions easily enough. How did you think he would respond to you leaving your kin?"
Kin? Kin? Momoe felt her anger spike, but she was too scared to argue. Instead, she did the only thing she could. Backing way from the fox as quickly as she could, she tried to lose him in the crowd. Within seconds, her breath was coming like fire, and she could feel her eyes water as she sprinted down the block. People were milling about their usual lives. Students were drinking together, business men were trying to get home, mothers were dragging their children by their little hands.
Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down...
Her headphones were down around her neck, but Momoe could still faintly hear Julie Andrews' singing.
In a most delightful way...
She needed to think fast. And she needed to stay calm. What could she do? Where could she go?
Momoe spotted a sign for the subway a couple blocks away.
The train station! Yes!
If she could just lose the fox, she'd probably be able to hide out somewhere until morning. She wasn't going to die tonight, no matter what her great grandfather wanted.
Julie Andrews and her little bird friend were whistling now.
Grabbing the cold metal rail, Momoe swung around and down into the first subway station she saw. She didn't feel the bald fox anywhere near her, but that didn't mean anything. She knew that. Foxes were tricky. Feet pounding against the stone, she pushed her way through the crowd of commuters.
Someone's hand grabbed at her and she felt panicky tears prick at the corners of her eyes.
The honey bees that fetch the nectar...
"No!" she screamed and swatted it away. An aging businessman looked at her as if she was crazy. She wanted to scream at him to help her, but she knew it would make no difference. He couldn't do anything.
From the flowers to the comb...
Looking frantically around, she pushed her way through the ticket gates and bolted for the nearest set of stairs.
Almost there! Almost there, she chanted in her head, as she skirted around a corner and saw the approaching lights of an incoming train.
Never tire of ever buzzing to and fro...
Momoe stopped running and, hands on knees, bent over to catch her breath. Her sneakers were new. She'd bought them just last week. She closed her eyes. Safe in the crowd. As soon as the train came she'd...
Something large and red stepped in front of her. Looking up, she saw a huge, hairy man with a strong jaw, dark blue eyes, and a tangle of sandy brown hair, grinning down at her. His bright red track suit seemed to suck in all the light around him. He smirked, "Man, how's that faggy little fuck always right? You mixies are all the same, aren't yuh?"
Because they take a little nip...
Momoe gasped and took a step back. The big stranger sighed and shook his head.
"You...too..."
"We always come in pairs, we do," he laughed, taking a step forward. "Oh hey, he's here!" the stranger turned waving at someone behind her.
From ev'ry flower that they sip...
Momoe turned and saw the bald fox from before. The moment their eyes met a strange numbness began to settle over her, and an eerie silence dulled the packed station. He waved hello. He truly looked sorry for her.
And hence... And hence!
Momoe felt something tug at her hair and realized the big stranger was running his fingers through her ponytail.
They find... They find!
She was about to pull away, when the black tunnel behind her gave a great, ear piercing howl.
Their task is not a grind!
Her heart seizing, Momoe felt like she was being dangled over the mouth of a giant, cold fish. The train lights that had been her hope only moments before faded away and slowly all of the commuters around her began to turn away. Momoe watched as witness after witness turned a blind eye.
She screamed in desperation, "Don't turn! Don't turn! What...what are you doing? For godsake! Please don't go!"
Then, like some sort of holy saint, the bald fox held his hands out and said calmly to the big man, "I am ready, Nogitsune. You may proceed."
A small green flame sparked to life in front of him, and the air began to burn.
"No!" Momoe screamed, and in an attempt to break away into the crowd, she launched herself at the nearest commuter. The man's tweed suit felt like a brick wall. "No!" she screamed, clawing at it, hitting the man, and screaming in his ear, "Let me out!"
A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down...
Her throat felt raw. She never saw the hammer coming.
The medicine go dow-wown...
With a crack, the world turned and Momoe connected with the platform, her ears ringing. As if on queue, the blind commuters took a step back, closing her in further. Momoe pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, reduced to groping at the ground for stability. She felt dizzy, nauseous.
The medicine go down...
"You didn't think your family would ever let you go, did you? With the stuff you knew?" came the voice of the big man the bald fox had called Nogitsune.
"They're...they're not my family," she groaned, tears in a mix of blood streaming down her cheeks.
Looking up, she saw that the man had changed somewhat. The cocky smirk was still there, but now his hair was bright red and fanned down to his knees. His eyes were rimmed with black and the pupils were now as clear as a bright, spring sky. And in his large fists he was holding what looked like a giant, wooden, mallet. Momoe's eyes widened; the thing was as big as a mailbox!
"Eh. Whatever," he shrugged and then, without warning, swung the mallet into the small of her back.
"AGH!" her short shriek went nowhere as she felt her body snap.
Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down...
"That should do it," he muttered matter-of-factly. Then bending down, he slipped a couple fingers just under the hem of her shorts, carressing her skin, and added, "You know lady, what your family does or doesn't do, s'not any of my business. S'not any of his business." He gestured to the bald fox, who was still standing, hands outstretched, the floating flame making his face burn green.
The medicine go dow-wown...
Momoe tried to pull herself up again, but her body just wouldn't move.
"I'm broken," she whispered in horror.
The medicine go down...
Nogitsune tilted her chin up. "I hope you don't take any of this personally. We're just freelancers. And well...I mean, I don't want to offend you or anything, but your great grandpa...he's kind of a huge deusche."
"Are we almost finished, Nogitsune?" the bald fox asked from a few paces away.
Momoe felt the fox's big hand pet her hair again. She couldn't move a muscle.
"Yeah," he called over his shoulder. Then turning back to her, he kissed her temple and whispered, "Bye, Momoe. Close your eyes. This is going to hurt a lot."
Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down...
Squinting up, she took one last look at Nogitsune's face. It began to shake.
In a most delightful way...
...
Nogitsune rose from the pile of broken bones and bleeding muscle. He'd crushed the girl's skull like a goose egg. Her eyes were bulging out of their sockets. Her mouth and nose were no longer recognizable.
If she had had any of the back of her head left, that sweet ponytail of her's would have been soaked in blood. As it was, her green scrunchy was still pristine and holding the hair firm, in a mangled pile at the heels of one of Hakuzo's blind commuters.
He hit her again. Just for safe measure. Her left eye came free. Nogitsune was a professional. He'd been doing this kind of work for only a few years, but he found it suited him.
Oh, just one more time, he thought. For luck.
There was a dull crack and he snorted. The little thing was about to have her wisdom teeth come in, wasn't she?
"Are you done?" Hakuzo's voice drawled somewhere behind him. Oh Inari, how he hated that bald bastard. He was sick of everyone telling him how lucky he was to have Hakuzo. The kitsune was old and good at what he did, absolutely. But he was also a faggot.
And Nogitsune didn't trust faggots.
He let his eyes roam over Momoe's body one last time. It was a damn shame. He sighed.
"Okay, so now that we're done, can I just say that she was daaaamned good looking?"
"I wouldn't say we're done yet. Unless...unless of course, you've fallen in love with the girl. We can take her home and make her your new wife tonight, if you wish. I can even go ask her great grandfather's permission in your stead. Would you like that?"
Nogitsune scoffed and tapped the body with his toe, "Heh...you're a funny one. You know I love 'em all."
Hakuzo rolled his eyes.
"Do you mind?"
Nogitsune took a step away from the body and leaned on the brittle shoulders of an old woman crouching with her groceries, "She's all yours, man. Do your thing."
"Good. Lets make this quick."
...
Ten minutes later they were both clean, tired, and silently swaying in a train car filled with commuters, many of whom had served as excellent blind witnesses.
The night had been successful, and they were on their way to accept their reward.
Adjusting his grip on his handle, Hakuzo watched as his partner, leaning against the car doors, playing with their mark's green scrunchy.
He'd definitely have to get that from him before the night was through. The young fox liked his momentos far too much, and as a Purger, it was Hakuzo's job to make sure everything was clean and tidy.
Looking down, he saw a speck of red on one of his loafers.
"Shit," he grumbled, nudging Nogitsune. "These are new."
Peering down, the younger fox shrugged and said, "Not my fault. Only a fag like you would wear shoes like that to a job."
Hakuzo looked back at his feet. It wasn't the damn shoes he was unhappy about, it was Nogitsune's recklessness.
It was moments like this that he truly missed his first partner. It had been centuries, but compared to every other fool he'd ever worked with, Kuko had been perfection, utter perfection.
He'd discovered him working as a kitsune-taikomochi in some ratty tea house. He'd been so beautiful. And traveling with him...those had been the days—the days of high stakes and bloody reward.
But nowadays, he eyed Nogitsune, he was digging for scraps with a bunch of young thugs.
What a life.
"You know what I wish?" Nogitsune's voice interrupted his thoughts, "I wish they'd make a blue M&M. That'd be great, wouldn't it?"
He was rolling the scrunchy from wrist to wrist.
"Excuse me?" Hakuzo frowned.
"You know, like, they got a red one, an orange one, a green one, a-"
"You're going to insist on continuing this thought, aren't you."
"Yeah, so wouldn't a blue one, or...or maybe a purple one! Oooh."
"Ugh," Hakuzo groaned, looking around. "Just be quiet, will you? You're embarrassing yourse-"
The train gave a sudden jerk, and the screech of struggling brakes ripped through the cabin.
"What the-!" Hakuzo heard his partner gasp beside him. He kept his hold tight on the handle above his head and felt a mass of bodies slam into him. The lights went out and the train came to a stop. He could hear the breathing and whimpering of the humans around him. This was strange.
He looked around. Was this simple human error or something else? He couldn't feel anything...malevolent.
Sorry, folks. Technical malfunction. Please remain where you are. We'll be back up momentarily.
"We're all gonna die!" a young kid screamed somewhere in the car. His outburst was followed by a volley of giggles and reprimands from his fellow passengers.
Hakuzo could feel people shifting in the dark around him, but there was nothing other than...something hot and sharp slid into his side.
The air left his lungs. The metallic stench of his own blood filled his nostrils and he heard Nogitsune sniff and say slowly, "What the hell?"
A gloved hand grabbed his left wrist and closed his fingers around what felt like paper. The stench of his own blood clouded everything.
"I am the messenger. You have been marked a liar, vermin," a low, growling voice whispered into his right ear.
"Hey man," Nogitsune nudged his shoulder and Hakuzo grimaced, "you smell that?"
"Ugh..." was all he could muster.
The lights flickered back on and he distantly heard the driver apologize and announce that the glitch had been fixed. Still clutching the passenger handle, he ignored his partner's gasp and tentatively felt his side. The wound wasn't deep, but it was messy. His sweater was a wreck.
"Jeez! What happened to you?"
"Keep...quiet, you...ugh...idiot," Hakuzo breathed, "Next stop...we're off."
"Yeah, but what-"
"It's...nothing. Now..." without looking, he pressed the bloody crumple into Nogitsune's chest, "tell me what...the hell this is."
Grimacing again, Hakuzo pressed his hand back into his side. Next to him, a young schoolgirl was looking at his sweater as if she were about to scream. He fixed her with his eyes and ever so quietly put a dripping finger to his lips, "Shh..."
Nogitsune whistled and whispered behind him, "Man, I wouldn't wanna be you right now."
"Yes...obviously. What...does...it say?" Hakuzo hissed, still staring at the girl. She was swaying with his gaze, eyes slowly glazing over.
"It says you fucked up. And by the looks of it, you fucked up big time. But it's weird..." Nogitsune trailed off.
"What? What's...ah...weird?" Hakuzo turned from the girl.
"Eh...it's just"
"What?"
"When'd you ever work for a dog? And man, this one's pretty up there. I mean they've used a crescent seal and everything. And who's this Koku guy? Was he a partner of yours? How come I never heard about him?"
Hakuzo felt the blood drain from his face.
"What?" he gasped and grabbed the paper from the other fox's hand, ignoring the stab in his side. "Gimme that!"
His eyes sped over the note just as the train stopped and the car doors opened. He felt a searing pain as the humans behind him began to push, but he couldn't think about that now.
"Lets go, man! What are you waiting for?" Nogitsune grabbed his elbow.
Hakuzo let himself be pulled from the train car, his eyes still glued to the note.
That little bitch, he thought.
This couldn't be. Those uptight, heartless dogs were accusing him of lying. He'd taken the assignment. He'd done away with the girl, and like a good servant he'd never made so much as a peep about losing his partner, his beloved Koku.
The attack hadn't gone as planned and he'd lost near everything that night. On top of that, it had only been after the job was complete that he'd found out exactly who had been marked. Or more accurately, who would come after him if he were ever exposed.
Oh Inari, he was sweating.
Of course the child was dead. What else could have happened to her? He'd seen her fall. Nothing of her or Koku had been left when he'd investigated that dry, useless well afterwards. His beloved, perfect Koku.
None of it had been worth it.
The note said he was lucky, but he felt like death.
Nogitsune pushed him down on a bench and leaned him against the subway wall.
"Hey, so we going to Tokyo or what?"
"You're...you're going to come with me?" Hakuzo coughed.
"Hey, when my partner gets a threat from a fuckin' heavenly dog, I stand by him. Whether he's a perv or not."
Hakuzo laughed, then cringed. Wiping his mouth, he answered, "Heh. Well then, this...perv is going to ah...give you some advice. Listen...closely."
He paused and leaned his head back against the cool wall, "If...you want to come to Tokyo...with me," he took another breath, "...that's your choice. But my advice? Stay away from me for...a while. And if you can help it, never...ever do a job for a dog."
Nogitsune laughed, "Huh? Why?"
Hakuzo lifted his hand from his wound and watched the blood spread through the threads of his cable knit sweater.
"Because, young fox," he smirked, looking at his red hand, "those bastards will hound you for the rest of your fucking days."
...
..
.
One month, two weeks and six days later...
Tokyo, 1989
5:47 PM
"You could pour yourself a drink first."
Mr. Abe stared, dumbfounded from his chair. It took him a couple moments before he could stammer out, "Th-that's kind of...you..." but then his voice failed him, and he could not find the courage to speak again. This man, this intruder, who had referred to himself as "this Sesshomaru" was watching him, his eyes unblinking, keen with some strange, cold life.
"Yes, I guess you're right, Doctor. Today has been rather unusual," he returned flatly, eyes darting somewhere beyond Mr. Abe's face and then back again.
The doctor didn't understand what his guest could mean by this. But he found it all too easy to brush the confusion aside, for all he could truly think about was the young man's claim that he was sane.
Now that was just absurd. No one in their right mind would burst into another person's home and threaten them like this young man had.
Perfectly sane. Perfectly preposterous, more like!
This Sesshomaru person was clearly extremely troubled.
It was obvious he was more than accustomed to getting his way. He most likely thrived on it. And judging by his conduct up until now, he was probably so disassociated from the human experience, from reality, that he would have no problem killing another human being.
He would likely take a great deal of pleasure in it, the doctor thought with a chill.
Taking a breath, he tried to calm himself. In truth, Mr. Abe was torn. Before him sat an example of psychopathy so pure, so unadulterated, he seemed to glow with his own cold-hearted significance. This strange young man seemed to have stepped straight from the pages of a textbook right into the doctor's own living room. But there...there was the problem. This youth, this wondrous example of purity in concept was in the doctor's living room.
He was far too close for comfort.
And to make matters worse, since his abrupt entrance, the air in the apartment seemed to have become charged with something—an almost stinging energy that Mr. Abe simply could not explain. In fact, he could not escape the feeling that if he so much as touched the poised young man sitting across from him, there would be no returning. He felt as if his guest's very being was poisonous.
Oh and how very young did this intruder look? He was far too supple faced to be so poised and groomed. The softness of his cheek combined with the authority of his temper made for an extremely unsettling impression.
How on earth had a girl like Rin come to know such a person?
He was most definitely moneyed, but how had he come across such wealth? He couldn't have made it all himself. Was he from a rich family? Or was he part of some crime syndicate?
"Go pour the drink, Doctor. I've never been known for my patience," the intruder's voice pulled Mr. Abe from his thoughts.
His tone was hard. Dark. Like slate.
Swallowing, Mr. Abe tried to calm himself. How could this young man do so little and yet be so unnerving?
The doctor turned his attention to the liquor cabinet by the wall. He didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the site of all that alcohol. Or maybe it was no longer looking at his intruder. All he knew was that he had to find some way out of this mess.
He had to survive.
His aging body heavy with anxiety, Mr. Abe creaked to his feet and edged toward the liquor cabinet, all the while trying to formulate some way of approaching the young man occupying his couch.
Grabbing a fat bottle of whiskey by the neck and shakily pouring a generous amount into a glass, he managed to wheeze, "Eh...eh...you can just call me Mr. Abe, you know. Everybody calls me...er, I don't need the title if that makes you more comfortable."
"I prefer the title, Doctor."
Mr. Abe almost cringed.
"Ah," he replied, standing for a couple seconds, glass in hand, not really thinking. He had to get control of himself, or this young man was going to control him. He took a gulp of the whiskey, sucking the sweat from his upper lip, and walked quickly over to his chair. As he took his seat, Mr. Abe straightened his shoulders, and tried to make believe this was just an ordinary session. Or more accurately, an ordinary session with an extraordinary patient who he had only one chance to calm.
A lion tamer. That's what he would have to be.
But try as he might, he could not help the feeling that the young man before him was the one with the whip in hand.
He took a sip of his whiskey. Then another.
"My questions will be brief."
Mr. Abe nodded, all the while studying his guest, trying to make out any possible point of vulnerability.
"First, I want you to explain to me how you came to know the girl. Why did you capture her for this...experiment of yours?" the intruder gestured toward the Fisher~Price recorder.
Experiment? Mr. Abe was confused. He would have laughed, but that would have been an act of lunacy. Instead he asked tentatively, "What...what do you mean, experiment?"
The intruder looked at him for what seemed an age, blinked and then answered, "I mean the spell you used to make her scream, Doctor. I listened to it all. And frankly, I found it offensive." There was a pause, and when the doctor didn't respond, the young man leaned forward, and added, "I didn't like what you made her say."
"Made her say? Excuse me, but I...I didn't make her say anything!" Mr. Abe gasped, "That...that session was simply an attempt at hypnosis. Those were her memories. I had no idea it would go so well."
"Well?" the young man's eyes narrowed and Mr. Abe's heart gave a stutter.
"As...as in, I wasn't expecting her to be so responsive. You have to understand. Up until that point, she'd refused to say anything at all. Y-you see, I couldn't help her unless she helped me. Do you understand how frust-?"
"Tell me how you captured her," the intruder interrupted.
"Uh...um, I don't understand. Captured?" Mr. Abe asked.
His guest leaned back and crossed his legs before repeating, "Yes. Captured, Doctor. Am I being unclear?"
Mr. Abe watched as the young man began to remove his gloves, plucking the leather up from the tip of each long finger. It was mesmerizing.
"I..." he swallowed, "I think you are mistaken. I didn't capture her. I have a practice, you see. I'm a therapist. St. Luke's referred her to me, that's all. You see...you see," Mr. Abe held up his hands, "I specialize in minors, kids like Rin, who've endured emotional trauma."
"Emotional...trauma."
"Yes. Exactly. I deal with the after effects mostly. Mostly of...of violent attacks, abuse, death. I didn't find Rin. She only came to me after enduring extraordinary physical and mental harm. I was only trying to help her."
The young man went silent, contemplating the glass coffee table in front of him. A moment later he mumbled something, but all Mr. Abe could catch was the word "careful". Then suddenly he looked up and asked, "When was the last time you saw her?"
The question took Mr. Abe by surprise. It had been some time actually.
"About three weeks ago? It was...it was the 24th or the 25th?"
Unthinkingly, he'd phrased his answer like a question, his voice ticking up at the end. This seemed to annoy his guest.
"Were you asking me or were you telling me, Doctor?"
"Uh...t-telling?"
"Do you usually stutter, or do I intimidate you?"
"You—you intimidate me?"
The room fell silent again. Mr. Abe felt like he was being circled by a predator. He didn't know why he'd been so truthful, but maybe, he thought, it would earn him some much needed trust. Steeling himself, he decided to try and grab the reins of the conversation.
"Mr.—er...Sesshomaru," the name felt strange and old on his tongue, "Can I ask...er...why you think Rin may have given your name while under hypnosis? You—you've said you weren't the one to...umm...attack the girl. So why..."
The doctor's voice trailed off at his guest's look. For a second he was afraid he'd offended him.
The man's eyes were trained on him, biting into him.
Like teeth, Mr. Abe thought.
In the tense silence another thought occurred to the doctor, and he wondered if he had the nerve to bring it up.
The intruder suddenly turned his gaze to the Fisher~Price recorder and Mr. Abe felt relief wash over him. It was such an intoxicating feeling that he almost missed the expression on his face.
But he was glad he'd caught it.
He couldn't help but stare. If he wasn't mistaken, he was seeing something on his guest's face that looked suspiciously like...regret?
The relief in the doctor's heart was immediately replaced by a heady hope.
He was a smart man—an expert at deciphering human emotion.
No matter how pale and diluted they were, this Sesshomaru was finally showing him his true colors.
Rin.
Rin was his weakness.
If he could just tap into that regret, that hint of empathy for the girl, maybe...just maybe he'd get out of this thing alive.
8:12 PM
Sesshomaru was almost certain he'd be losing his driver if not by the end of the day, by the end of the week. Lucas hadn't said a word or even looked his way for near a half hour, and while that was not unusual, Sesshomaru could smell the man's panic.
Even through the stench of blood that permeated the car, he could smell Lucas' sweat, as well as other, more embarrassing, excretions. If the day hadn't been so terrible and if Sesshomaru hadn't been in such a hurry to return to his apartment, he would have smiled at the memory of his driver's horrified face.
Thinking back on it, it was really his own fault he'd be losing the human. If he'd simply washed his face before leaving the doctor's apartment his driver's termination could have been avoided.
Crossing his legs, Sesshomaru looked at the five manila folders, each thick with paper, lying on the seat next to him. Piled on top of them were his soggy leather gloves, the Fisher~Price recorder, and numerous soiled silk handkerchiefs. With long, bare fingers, he picked up one of the handkerchiefs and recommenced wiping away the spots of blood still lingering behind his ears and under his chin.
Don't forget to clean under your claws, my dear. We wouldn't want you dirtying anything.
His mother's sing-song voice echoed from somewhere long long ago. There were times he could still feel the sting of her closed sensu fan smacking his knuckles. Without another thought, he carefully picked the dried blood from his fingers, pushing his cuticles back and digging deep under each blunt nail.
His hands wreaked of the doctor—his blood, his fat, his bowls, the whiskey he'd been drinking, even his cologne. Sesshomaru had left the apartment in reasonable order. While he'd been unable to do anything about the carpet stains or the splattered walls, he had replaced the man's drinking glass on the mini bar, pouring the remaining liquid back into the proper decanter. He'd also opened the man's blinds and his windows to let in some much needed air. He'd even melted the body in the bath tub, ultimately deciding his mother could live without a gift from him.
As he thought about how it had felt to tear through the doctor's body and to bask in the silence that had followed, Sesshomaru felt a pleasant release.
In many ways, mercy was a fitting word for the day, but restraint was the only word for the century.
He'd indeed shown magnificent restraint while speaking with the doctor. Or more accurately, listening to the doctor. After he'd asked his initial questions, the human had seemed to gain an unreasonable amount of confidence. Sesshomaru didn't know if it had been the drink or something more pitiable, but the doctor had attempted to take charge of the situation.
In fact, the doctor had tried to be helpful.
To Sesshomaru's eyes, he'd seemed much like a frantic little pig, running around as he had, gathering the manila folders now at Sesshomaru's side, offering him things to eat, and even putting on music. It had been quite a spectacle.
Oh and how ridiculously sentimental that song had been.
Appallingly catchy too.
He'd already caught himself humming it twice since he'd killed the human. He'd hummed it while melting the body in the tub, and he'd been humming it when he'd come upon Lucas.
"Huh." Sesshomaru looked out the window, resting his chin in his hand as an unexpected thought occurred to him. The humming probably hadn't helped quell his employee's fears either. From the corner of his eye, he peered at his driver through the divider. Yes, Jaken would be looking for a new man by tomorrow if not by tonight.
Without much thought, he tilted his head to the side and watched as the electrical wires above his head careened by. They were like thick, wet eels swimming through the evening sky. Animals of a new world. Twining and thrumming with human intent.
From pole to pole these rubber creatures stretched and sagged, engorged with their own restrained potential and chaos.
Rin had asked him once if he would always remember her.
He wasn't certain if he wanted to anymore.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember the pleasant pop of the doctor's limbs separating from his torso—tried to recall the pleasure of his dominance.
That man had been such a fool.
His explanations had been helpful, yes, but his suggestions as to the cause of Rin's condition had been...had been beyond...well, Sesshomaru did not know what. He actually didn't want to understand his anger at the doctor's final insinuations.
Up until its final moments, Sesshomaru felt their conversation had been rather cordial. In fact, it hadn't been until the man had revealed Rin's extensive memory loss, he'd called it "acute retrograde amnesia", that Sesshomaru had felt the completion of his night's impromptu hunt draw near.
He recalled how the doctor had told him that Rin's "amnesia" had been caused by something called T.B.I. or, as he'd later explained, a "Traumatic Brain Injury." All in all, the man's proclivity for acronyms had been but one of many strikes against him.
But moving past that particular annoyance, Sesshomaru remembered quite clearly what the doctor had done next. He'd offered him the last of many manila folders and pointed at what looked like a diagram of a human body. The picture's head had been turned to the side, mouth open. Little red "x's","o's" and notes had cluttered the skeleton's crisp, black outline. There had been an "o" over the right shoulder, an "o" over the collar bone, an "x" over the right forearm, "x's" over six ribs—all of which had been on the right, an "x" over the nose, an "x" over the right eye, and a large "x" over the skull. In one of the margins it had read:
...majority of bodily injuries suggest breakages resulting from impact...
...however, facial fractures and contusions on the upper arms suggest foul play...
...further police investigation recommended...
Upon reviewing the diagram, Sesshomaru remembered feeling an anger stir in him at the thought of the doctor putting Rin under such duress after she'd sustained such a multitude of injuries.
He'd actually been about to voice his concern, when the human, gripped by his own foolish interests, had said instead, "Now...now looking at this, anyone would think that Rin's amnesia was caused by TBI. How could it not be? Right? Even I believed it. But after I recorded my hypnosis session with her, and considering how reticent she'd been to take part in any sort of therapy, I had a feeling it wasn't really TBI at all. Oh no, no! It was in fact post-traumatic amnesia. The truth is, Rin doesn't remember her life before the attack because she doesn't want to remember. Do you understand?"
The doctor had become so excited then, he'd actually smiled. Sesshomaru could still feel the snap of the threads of the human's couch against his palm. The stench of burning fabric still tickled his nose.
But the doctor hadn't stopped there. He'd actually, and this was the astonishing thing, he'd actually had the gall to ask, "Now, Sesshomaru. Here's something I want you to ask yourself. Have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe you are part of what Rin doesn't want to remember? That maybe you should just...let her move on?
Sesshomaru could still remember the feeling of letting go.
The next few moments had gone simply enough.
He'd said, "No. Excuse me, Doctor," stood, stepped over the coffee table toward the human, curled his left hand around the back of his thick head, and thrust his right hand deep into his gut. Several seconds of stunned silence had followed, the doctor had even smiled in confusion, but reality had dawned on him quickly enough, and he'd soon begun screaming. To Sesshomaru's ear, it had been a rather peculiar, high-pitched sound.
Ultimately, the doctor had only had time enough to yelp, "Your face! Your face!" before Sesshomaru had removed his nimble, red hand from his gut and plucked his head clean from his wriggling shoulders. He hadn't cut it off, he'd ripped it off.
For some reason, he'd felt that the sound of skin tearing would be far more rewarding than the silence of the cut.
Indeed, it had been like a balm on a wound.
What followed then had been a frenzy of blood, guts, and bone.
He'd never even removed his mask. And now in retrospect, Sesshomaru wondered whether that was why the doctor had made all that fuss about his face. He smiled at the thought of his hound's grin somehow showing through his mask.
How unexpected. How delightful.
Looking outside, he realized he knew where they were. They'd stopped at a red light maybe four or five blocks from his building. He recognized their location not by any of the street names, however, but by a rather indecent billboard he remembered being erected maybe six weeks earlier. It was of a woman, healthy and well built, like everyone these days, in an obscene little bikini, legs wide over a fire-red motorcycle, her buttocks high and shining like a pearl in the air behind her, bare toes pressing into the metal ignition petals.
The words, "Suzuki Has Almost Nothing to Wear," were stamped above her head.
The city was littered with things like this.
Pursing his lips, Sesshomaru turned his attention from the billboard to Lucas in the front seat. They were moving now and he would be home soon. Free to contemplate everything and plan for what was to come. To his great annoyance much still depended on Inuyasha. Even though he now knew where she was supposed to be living, it was still unclear whether Rin was actually at that address anymore.
He would have to wait for word of that kitsune-hanyou his brother had mentioned.
Maybe he could send his little brother some sort of message. Something that would demonstrate his interest with out revealing his desire. Something that would be sufficiently aggressive without being to obvious. Something...something that would compel Inuyasha to hurry the fuck up.
Sesshomaru closed his eyes, and unthinkingly reached for the handle of the Fisher~Price recorder at his side. Looking down at the toy, he felt a sudden urge to crush it. But instead, he decided to take another quick look at Rin's many...many files. He'd flipped through them more times than he could count back in the doctor's apartment. Slowly, he lifted the top two files from the stack and pulled out a file marked:
L.N.U., RIN/HOSP. TRANSFERAL DOCS/PSYCHOLOGICAL EVAL./ABE - FILES/Report Initiated:13.01.1989
Crossing his legs, he opened the folder and contemplated a small, photocopy of a photograph clipped to the top of the first page. It had been taken for social service's, as well as Dr. Abe's and the hospital's records. He'd found copies of the photograph in every file except the police report. That folder was the lightest, for it seemed the investigation into Rin's sudden discovery had gone nowhere fast.
Eyes still on the picture, he reached behind himself and lowered the armrest by his seat. Opening the leather top, he picked out a pair of clean, pressed, leather gloves and began pulling them over each hand.
Before today he had never seen a photograph of Rin.
And on some level he wished he'd never come across it. For all these years, she'd lived so safely in his mind and his memory. Always smiling, always laughing, always begging. And now that he thought about it, he felt much the same about her voice on that tape. All of these recordings of her were merely reflections of something real—of a tiny girl he'd once indulged and the curious little connection that had grown between them.
The person in this photograph looked small and tired.
She was fractured.
She was different.
An imposter.
A ghost.
Strikingly alien, and yet crushingly familiar.
"Rin," he sighed to himself, his gloved thumb tracing the edge of the photo.
"You must have smelled terrible when they took this."
later...
"Jaken!"
No answer came and Sesshomaru tapped his claws impatiently against the white arm of his leather couch. His mokomoko was unfurled and languishing long across his Persian rug, his fur growing warmer and warmer at the fire's edge. It had been crackling in the grate when he'd come home.
"Jaken! What takes you?" he barked, eyes still trained on the flames.
"Yes! Yes! My lord! I'm coming!" the imp shouted somewhere behind him. He was breathing hard, and Sesshomaru could smell the brittle wood and crumpled paper in his arms.
"Nothing has come for me?"
"No, Sesshomaru-sama. I am sorry to say, but the worthless Inu-"
"Fine. Leave me."
"Of course, my lord. Right away, my-"
"Now."
There was a sharp gasp, immediately followed by the clatter of wood, but Sesshomaru ignored it, opting instead to lift the end of his mokomoko and make it edge ever so slightly into the fire. There was a hiss, and his little animal curled back, singed.
He sighed, lips parted slightly, eyes alight, and forced it back in.
And again it snapped away.
He put it in again, completely taken with the idea of his own self-possession.
He didn't like waiting. He didn't like to be on others' schedules.
He wanted to have control over something.
And what better object was there to control than himself?
What more glorious path was there in life than to gain complete control over one's self?
The fur on his mokomoko's tip was curling black now, and he could feel the bite and the lick of each trembling flame.
A sudden pounding came at the front door and wrenched Sesshomaru from his concentration.
Snapping his mokomoko from the fire's edge, he was about to take the blackened tip in hand, when a sharp, familiar odor invaded his senses. His nostrils flared. His fur bristled. He knew he could be wrong, it had been so long, but he was in the entrance way before he could stop himself; he'd barely even noticed Jaken underfoot.
Inuyasha's fist was still raised, on the verge of another hard knock, when Sesshomaru opened the door. He was wearing a simple, red sweatshirt and it was clear he hadn't acquired his mask yet. The hood was pulled over his head and Sesshomaru could just make out specks of something dark and brown matted into his brother's white hair. The outlines of his ears gave his head an odd, but distinct shape.
He was alone.
"Let me in."
Sesshomaru narrowed his eyes and returned flatly, "You took your time."
"Don't even. I could kill those damn kids," Inuyasha shook his head, eyes wide. He looked beat.
"You found her, didn't you," Sesshomaru returned, slowly.
The hanyou grunted and pushed past him into the apartment.
"After tonight, I need a fuckin' drink," he called over his shoulder, not bothering to take off his shoes.
Sesshomaru didn't notice. All he cared about right now was getting an explanation.
"You wreak, little brother. Why?"
"Right back attyuwoah...woah woah waoh...what the fuck is this?"
Sesshomaru rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what had sparked Inuyasha's ire.
"Oh that," he sighed, sliding his hands into his pockets.
"Yeah. Fuck, oh that! What is that?" Inuyasha nearly jumped as he jabbed an angry finger at the painting above Sesshomaru's fireplace.
"It's just a painting."
"Just a painting?"
"Inuyasha if you are going to be so easily distracted by such trivial matters—"
"Oh shut up! I took your arm fair and square, and you, you sanctimonious son of a bitch, go and have a fuckin' mural painted with some asshole dog taking my victory?"
"When did you learn such big words, brother? Sanctimonious? Really?"
"Go fuck yourself!"
Sesshomaru took a deep breath, his eyes widening dangerously. Dealing with his brother was fast becoming more difficult than his little control game with the fire.
"First of all," he began slowly, "if you knew anything at all, you would know that is not a mural, it's just a painting. Second, if you were anything but an insolent, little, half-breed bastard-child, you would know that that is not some ass...hole...dog. That is our father—"
"Well he wasn't the one who took your arm! I di—"
"Let me finish." Sesshomaru snapped back through clenched teeth. A hard silence fell between them then, but after a moment, ever so slowly, he continued, "For all points and purposes, our father was the one that felled me that day, not you. It was his power and his fang, if you remember, brother, that took my arm. And if I remember correctly, without that sword you fought like an idiot child in his belly."
Sesshomaru took another breath.
"I simply had the painting made as an acknowledgement of past events. Nothing more. I care nothing for it. Now can we move on?"
"Keh...whatever," the hanyou glowered. Then leaning against the frame of the sofa, he casually pushed back his hood. Sesshomaru blinked. Flecked across his brother's snow white head was a shower of brown.
He knew that smell.
"Tell me what happened," Sesshomaru heard himself say.
Inuyasha scratched at something behind his ear and sighed, "Well I did kill one of 'em."
"Who?"
"You know what?" the hanyou answered, pushing himself off the sofa and heading back toward the front door, "Screw the drink. Come on. I'll just take you. I'll explain everything on the way."
"Where are we going?"
"You got a car right? Lets take that. I can't take that subway again. It's too crowded."
"Where are we going?" Sesshomaru repeated slowly.
Inuyasha turned and frowned, already halfway into the hall.
"Keh! To your little brat. Where else?"
Chapter XV Preview:
Dogs Don't Smoke
The kids are in the room.
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