Author's Note

Sometimes it's really neat to see how this story comes together. The closer and closer I get to the end, the more excited I get. Obviously, not excited to be done with the fic, but excited to write some of the really interesting developments I have in mind. I think you all will really enjoy the next plot arc I've coordinated for you ;)

Please read and review!


Lead Me Down the Garden Path


Connections Across Time


Kaede chopped shallots and garlic cloves with such mesmerizing strokes of her chef's knife Sango couldn't look away. Her cheek reposed heavily in the palm of her hand. Her eyelids drooped from the sudden placidity that overtook her.

It had been over a day since Sango herself became devastatingly involved in Inuyasha's past. Over one whole day since Sango's lip had been bloodied and her chin bruised. It felt surreal. There was so much she didn't understand, so many questions she wanted to direct to Miroku.

And yet, in this moment, her brain was rendered quiet by watching the arguably peaceful task of Kaede preparing dinner.

Parts of Sango's brain tried to persuade her to action: to find Miroku, to check on Kagome, to seek the questions for which she yearned answers. However, her elbows seemed glued to the quartz countertop, her bum stuck in her seat. She found herself in a daydream-like fog that she embraced as unquestionably as her newfound feelings for Miroku.

One second she was enraptured in anger and violence, and now, she found herself in an oblivious peace. One second she was captivated by her disdain of Miroku's womanizing antics, the next, she never wanted to go a single day without being on the receiving end of those very same antics.

It was hard to stomach, the stark juxtapositions in Sango's current life. Everything seemed to be defined in opposites, especially her feelings for Miroku and her involvement in the Kuzawari's revenge plot against Inuyasha. Her life was a chaotic jumble of things not making sense and then feeling astounded by sudden clarity.

Her mind couldn't fathom how being in bed with Miroku was simple, yet being in the real world with him confounded her with questions and insecurities.

Her mind couldn't understand or pinpoint her current role in Inuyasha's life and his dealings with the Band of Seven, or, rather, the kobuns of the Kuzawari Gang.

Right, she thought. I need to stop calling them that. They're not a band. They never were a real band.

It was hard for Sango to accept the rupturing truth about the idolized musical obsession from her youth. Sango knew she housed, deep in the pit of her stomach, feelings of longing, of something once loved now torn away from her, that she couldn't remedy. She had to hate them; and she did hate them. However, she remembered a time when she loved them, the Band, and the thought brought shameful tints of pink to her cheeks. Her guilt-ridden nostalgia made Sango feel uncomfortable underneath Inuyasha's roof, and in Inuyasha's company.

She would never be able to speak of the Band of Seven—how she knew the Band of Seven—without the band name spurring in the others feelings of resentment and rage. There was no where for her feelings to go. Sango couldn't voice them externally, so they lingered deep inside her, appearing at the most inopportune moments. Sango felt stuck; there wasn't a way to voice her longing, her nostalgia, because the thing about which she felt nostalgic never really existed. She had feelings of sentimentality about a lie, and that fact alone caused Sango's stomach to wrench with bitterness.

Perhaps it was that anger and animosity within her that made Sango find comfort in Souta's presence at the Manor. She recognized the deliberate ignorance to which Souta clung to his idolization. After all, Sango knew Souta was a youth of the times; he had all the latest social media applications on his phone, and he knew which media companies' websites to go to when he wanted to learn the juiciest celebrity gossip. Souta's being witness to the band's genuine evil, Kagome's kidnapping, finally seemed to cause his façade to shatter, and Sango saw the light of adoration dim in Souta's eyes.

She knew exactly what that felt like.

The ignorant part of them both wanted to call the recent band reports scandalous blasphemy, words handed out to the public in hopes of causing an uproar, as the media is wont to do. Yet, Sango recognized in Souta the same uncomfortable disquiet from being forced to face the unwelcome juxtaposition of something previously loved so dearly and now made to hate.

Despite years of admiration and fanaticism, the truth was too cacophonous to deny for either Sango or Souta. Kyokotsu, Mukotsu, and Ginkotsu really did break into Inuyasha's house and were now dead because of it. Suikotsu really had been the man who tried to run Kagome and Totosai off the road at gunpoint. Sango's favourite member of the band really had kidnapped Kagome with the goal of torturing her mentally and physically. Souta's childhood hero and lifelong idol really was the former ringleader of a group solely created as a front for a gang boss to accomplish his criminal endeavours.

When Sango spelled it out like that, how could she and Souta not hate them?

Above all, though, Sango hated them for deceiving her. She felt used and betrayed; they manipulated her into adoring them. They may have been able to manipulate hundreds of thousands, but Sango abhorred the fact that she so blindly fell into the trap. The Kuzawari so easily lured and ensnared her into their web of lies. The thought delivered such a blow to her gut it made her saliva taste sour. The gravity of their duplicity, Sango's love of the lie, caused her stomach to coil in knots.

"You seem distracted, Sango," Kaede's grandmotherly voice called over the sound of a bubbling pot of water. "Why not go rest, child?"

Sango offered the old woman a kind but tired smile.

"My body does feel tired. It's just," Sango paused, distracted, "my mind is running non-stop with questions and doubts." Then, almost as if snapping out of it, Sango offered Kaede an apologetic smile saying, "I'm not bothering you, am I?"

Kaede laughed in response. "Not in the least, Sango. It's actually a nice change of pace to have someone with me while I prepare a meal."

"Can I do anything to help, Kaede?"

Kaede was quick to motion towards Sango with a spatula pointed at the young woman in warning. "Take one step out of that seat and I'll have you out of this kitchen faster than you can say 'Sengoku Manor'."

Sango released an exhaled laugh, offering the woman an eye-crinkling grin. She nodded in agreement.

"Will the young Higurashi be joining us for supper again?"

Sango bit her lip at the question, responding with a reserved, "No, he will not be. Souta has gone home."

"Ah," Kaede replied, turning to face the stovetop. "I see. I do hope Kagome got to say goodbye. She's been asleep for far too long; I hope she's alright."

Sango's eyesight lowered, lingering on the quartz countertop.

Her mind distractedly transported her to the night prior, when she had sat up in bed and wrung the sheets between her hands with guilt.

"He's gone?"

"Yes," Miroku said with a grunt, easing his sling over his head. "I can't say it was an easy conversation, but I am grateful he understood."

Souta was the only one who could have understood what Sango was going through, and now he was gone. Sango knew Kagome would feel the loss of his presence in the house; however, in that moment, Sango felt suffocated by her isolation.

"Hmm," Sango hummed thoughtfully. "I just hope Kagome isn't too upset she didn't get to say goodbye. She already has so much to worry about."

Miroku groaned as he rotated his injured arm to inspect the damage. "Kagome seems to worry more about the rest of us than she does about herself."

Sango snorted with a fond smile. "Yeah, she does that."

Miroku's eyes had gazed into the distance as he focused his thoughts on undoing his belt with one hand. "The last thing she needs right now is to worry about the wellbeing of her brother. I can't speak for you, Sango, but I certainly wouldn't be able to live with myself if we allowed anything to happen to Souta by permitting him to stay."

"No," she sighed, wishing she could be selfish and disagree. "Asking him to go was the smart thing to do. Besides, it's not like you told him he wasn't welcome here."

"Of course not," Miroku retorted quickly, turning around to face Sango.

Sango gulped at the strain and twinge of his muscles beneath his skin. Sleeping with him was such a routine act these past few weeks and yet Sango still found her mouth drying at the sight of his body.

Her cheeks had pinked in embarrassment for allowing her mind to deviate during a moment of solemnity.

"Both you and Kagome," he smiled sadly, trying to avoid the sight of her split lip, "got caught in the line of fire with Inuyasha's—my—past. I don't want anyone else to become entangled in all of this."

"I know, Miroku."

He sighed. "Then why do I feel so guilty for sending him away?"

Sango leaned forward to rest a comforting hand on top of his. "Because you—we—denied his request to say goodbye to Kagome; but, you know it's for the best that couldn't happen. I know Kagome," she laughed forlornly. "I know she would have protested Souta's leaving. She may have understood deep down that he needed to go, but she would have objected regardless."

Miroku intertwined his fingers with Sango's, his injured arm loose in his lap. "Have I told you recently, Sango, how much I appreciate and cherish having you here?"

Sitting in the kitchen, Sango covered her cheeks with her hands in fondness of the recollection. She couldn't put her finger on exactly when Miroku became a love interest; however, she was grateful to have him as a source of comfort.

"Can I get you anything, Sango?" Kaede asked, interrupting Sango's thoughts.

Sango shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, Kaede, but no thank you. I'm fine."

"Not even a cup of tea?"

Sango smiled with closed eyes at the older woman. "Unfortunately, I need to take a break from the hot liquids until my lip completely heals." Sango brushed her fingertips against the culpable wound. "I aggravated it this morning with a cup of coffee."

"Can I get you some ice, then? I still see a bit of swelling, Sango."

Sango waved away Kaede's worry. "I promise I'm fine, Kaede. It will heal with time."

Kaede cast Sango an unconvinced glance before the woman turned her attentions back to her cooking, leaving Sango to her wandering thoughts.

The attack in Aokigahara Forest feels like so long ago, she thought, continuing to run her fingers gently over the scabbing. Gosh, I hope Kagome wakes up soon.

Thinking about what had happened in the forest caused a chill to erupt down Sango's spine. Wrapping her arms around herself, Sango leaned into the counter, a frown overtaking her features.

Inuyasha had thundered his way into the bush, leaving them behind. In the moments that followed, in what seemed to Sango like a few fast-forwarded seconds, men in black uniform surrounded her, with bulletproof padding over their chests and long-barrel guns swinging like syncopated pendulums at their waists.

She had followed Miroku's lead through the forest, listened to his whispered instructions to the men who followed behind them. Sango had watched them accept the commands and disperse into pairs in various directions, leaving her and Miroku on their own. The surrounding area was silent except for their footfalls, and the quiet was incredibly unsettling.

Even though the gravity of their situation—Kagome's situation—sat heavily in Sango's sternum the whole time, the enormity of what Sango was involved in finally sunk in and suffocated her. Sango had finally realized she was in the middle of something far beyond her depth when she felt large forearms circling her midriff, pulling her towards the ground forcefully. Fighting the choking grip against her diaphragm, Sango had elbowed her attacker in the nose, feeling the wince-inducing crunch of breaking cartilage. Thinking her defensive move had given her enough time to escape, Sango had lunged in the opposite direction. Only to feel a tear-jerking grip on her ponytail. Her defensive maneuver had only caused the man to get rougher with her, slapping her, shaking her.

Sango's fingers drifted over the inflamed contusion on her mouth, the two stitches she received from where the kobun had struck her, forcing her to the ground.

She only remembered the feel of her pulse in her mouth, the taste of blood. A stunned time warp had encircled her. The next time she had looked upwards Sango saw that same kobun's dead expression facing her. She later learned that Miroku had punched the man to the point of unconsciousness, eventually killing him, a series of actions severely fracturing the metacarpal bones in Miroku's hand in the process.

The rest of the event was a blur. Sango had operated on autopilot, hiding when Miroku told her to hide, running when he told her to run. Her brain couldn't register the sound of male's screams, the distant gunshots that echoed around her, the scuffle of bodies engaging in a fight to the death.

Sango licked her lip and then flinched from the pressure.

She remembered Miroku shooting someone. It was something that still sat heavily on Sango's chest and mind. Gentle, courteous, and libidinous Miroku killed a man. Killed two men. Right in front of Sango. She had watched how he handled himself, fighting expertly. He knew how to get out of a hold, hold to immobilize a man.

It was a terrifying thought that her lover was a killer. That the same hands that expertly ravaged the most secretive and sensitive places on her body were the hands that had also drawn blood, taken life. It was especially troubling to Sango because Miroku wasn't like Inuyasha. Miroku didn't seem to enjoy the taunting exchange of male egos, the primal and carnal desire to defeat an opponent. Miroku fought and killed to survive. Sango knew that taking the life of another human weighed heavily on Miroku's conscious. After all, the evening after the fight, Sango had been there to witness Miroku tossing and turning in bed, shedding tears in his sleep, asking for forgiveness. Between the conflict in the forest and asking Souta to leave, Sango saw that Miroku's mental health was distressed.

The entire incident in the forest had left Sango in a state of overwhelming helplessness; however, what heightened her speechlessness and fear was her sighting Renkotsu. Where other kobun were engaged with Miroku's guards, Renkotsu seemed completely disinterested in the fighting around him. Renkotsu looked like he was searching for something, or someone. Kagome? Inuyasha? Jakotsu? Sango didn't know for sure, but she knew enough to alert Miroku to Renkotsu's presence.

Miroku had dropped everything to pursue Renkotsu. The celebrity kobun aware of the former Naichō agent's interest in him, Renkotsu took off. Miroku had shouted at Sango to keep up and she urged her legs as fast as they could to follow in Miroku's wake, despite the magnitude of the headache that had thud throughout her skull.

Sango remembered seeing Miroku's sheer anger at losing Renkotsu in the woods, uncertain how the kobun had gotten away from them.

Sango also remembered the cold dread that lingered in her chest at the sight of Inuyasha carrying an unconscious Kagome in his arms.

When Sango had spotted her childhood friend, nothing else mattered. Renkotsu was a long forgotten memory. Even her headache was nothing in comparison to the fear that encapsulated Sango's entire being. For a moment, Sango was convinced Kagome was dead; the pale skin, bluish hue to Kagome's lips, and bloodied exterior were the only suggestions Sango needed to suspect Jakotsu had ended Kagome's life. But then Inuyasha filled Miroku in on what happened, and Sango shed tears of relief that Miroku and one of his men mistook to be an emotional reaction of shock to recent events.

"Kaede."

Sango's recollection snapped into the present at the newfound sound of Inuyasha's voice entering the kitchen. Sango turned in her seat to face him despite Inuyasha having called out to Kaede and not Sango. Sango observed that his hair looked wet, like he had just come out from the shower. Sango's chest swelled with anticipation. If Inuyasha had left Kagome's room, did that mean Kagome was awake?

"Have you seen Miroku?"

The old woman turned at Inuyasha's address and question, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

"I believe he's outside," she answered, her eyes motioning towards the French doors leading to the outdoor patio.

Inuyasha nodded at the woman and gestured his body towards the door.

"Inuyasha," Sango spoke quickly, a lump evident in her throat. "Kagome," she concluded with eyes widened in question although the single word was not implied as a question.

"She's fine," he replied, understanding Sango's intention from the mention of her friend's name. His tone was narrow and his eyes turned away from her. Sango could read in his body language that he had no desire to linger here to chat. She could tell that his mind seemed elsewhere.

"She'll be down soon."

Before Sango could direct any further questions at him, Inuyasha was already disappearing through the French doors. All trace of him was gone from the kitchen within seconds.


When Inuyasha stepped outside, he paused in uncertainty at the scene before him, his hand not leaving the doorframe. Miroku sat amongst piles and piles of muddled, mismatched paperwork, his hands absently browsing through sheets on his lap while he turned to speak to the head of security seated adjacent to him.

Inuyasha showed up mid-conversation.

"—certain this was all of it?"

"Yes, sir," the guard obediently nodded. "The room's been emptied. The previous stack was the last of it."

"And has Inuyasha been—?"

"—And has Inuyasha been, what?"

Miroku turned his head sharply towards the French Doors. The shock was legible on Miroku's face as his gaze lingered on Inuyasha. He was clearly surprised by his friend's sudden appearance.

"Inuyasha," Miroku called, his rigid body slightly loosening once the initial shock faded. "How is Kagome?"

The question seemed blunt given Inuyasha's eavesdropping; however, Miroku appreciated the momentary reprieve, distraction, from Inuyasha's hostile, suggestive question.

Inuyasha seemed to parse through several thoughts before a slight flush coated his cheeks and he looked out towards the mid-evening sun.

"She'll be fine," he answered.

"Did she—"

"—Pardon the interruption, sir," the head of security stated, getting to his feet. "Do you need anything else from me?"

Both Inuyasha and Miroku turned to look at the man in uniform, standing in front of the chaise and grasping his hands in front of him.

"No," Inuyasha answered quickly on Miroku's behalf. He gathered a handful of paper, careful he wouldn't sit on anything, before lowering himself into the generously-plush cushion. "You're dismissed. Miroku and I have some shit to discuss."

"Yes, sir," the man bowed his head at Inuyasha. "Should you need anything further from me—"

"—Yeah, yeah, yeah," Inuyasha motioned with his hand, an action meant to silence and shoo the guard away so he could speak to Miroku in private.

Miroku offered the guard an apologetic shrug before Miroku turned to address Inuyasha. "How are—"

"—What is all of this shit, Miroku?" Inuyasha interrupted, ruffling through the papers and turning them over in his hands to scour the contents. "What the hell have you been up to all day? Clearly you've been busy with something…"

Miroku took a deep breath before placing beside him the papers on his lap. He turned to face Inuyasha with a steeled expression.

"I have an update for you, my friend; however, I don't think it's going to be one you'll be happy to hear."

"Just cut to the chase, will ya?" Inuyasha snorted with frustration, tossing the papers amongst the discarded rest beside him. It all looked like nonsensical gibberish to him: names, addresses, to-do lists; it was nothing of consequence. Why the hell was Miroku interested in all that garbage?

"I spoke with the Deputy Director this morning—"

"—For fuck's sake," Inuyasha muttered, in interruption, under his breath.

"—and gave an update on what's happened since you last flew out to headquarters those few days ago. As you'll recall," Miroku sighed, ignoring Inuyasha's interruption, "the last direction we received was that if there was any contact—"

"—Feh! Define contact—"

"—with known Kuzawari members we were to provide report immediately to the Deputy Director."

"So, what? You're their little errand boy again?"

Miroku fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I'd hardly call it that, Inuyasha. Not even you can deny that the Family has national security implications. I'm simply doing my due diligence as a Japanese civilian."

"And what the hell does all this paperwork have to do with that Deputy Director asshole?"

Miroku took a steadying breath before continuing. He knew what he had to say was going to shake Inuyasha's very foundation.

"During the call, the Deputy advised me of something," Miroku paused to search for the right word. "Troubling," he concluded. "One of the Deputy's Research Analysts found an archived document; one that I would argue has significant implications for us."

"And that document would be…" Inuyasha grumbled. Miroku was beginning to try Inuyasha's patience.

"A severance agreement between Naichō and—" Miroku gulped; this was it— "your father."

Inuyasha recoiled so viciously it made Miroku flinch.

"What the actual fuck?" Inuyasha spat, his eyes turning to the loose papers for an explanation. "Between your fucking ex-employer and my old man? What the hell does that even mean!?"

Miroku's eyes skirted over the paperwork beside him while he collected his thoughts. After a few heavy moments of silence, he spoke. "Severance pay is compensation that is paid to an employee who has their employment 'severed'. This type of pay, Inuyasha, is meant to compensate an employee for losses that occur when a long-term employee loses their job. The fact that this Analyst found an agreement of severance between Tōga and Naichō means that your father was a Naichō employee, and for quite some time too."

"That's impossible," Inuyasha seethed, his heart racing. "My dad was a public servant. He—he was just some kind of court official. He—"

"—Inuyasha," Miroku interrupted with empathetic eyes and a soft tone. "Do you know who your father was? What he actually did? When I ended my call with the Deputy Director, I did a little digging on your father. I had my men gather every piece of documentation they could find that belonged to Tōga. I needed to understand why Naichō would have any interest in him."

"And I'm guessing you found something," Inuyasha choked with an accusatory tone.

Inuyasha felt like he coudn't breath. His lungs felt claustrophobic. He was torn between rage at Miroku for raiding Inuyasha's—his father's—private and personal business and feelings of devastation and shock at the revelation Inuyasha's father was a Naichō employee. How was that possible? How could Inuyasha not have known that? Did Sesshoumaru know?

"Tōga Taisho was the nineteenth Chief Justice of Japan," Miroku explained, "which means he was the head of the judicial branch of Japanese government. It's a role ceremonially appointed by the Emperor of Japan after one is nominated by the Cabinet." Miroku connected his thumbs and forefingers together as he spoke, as if the gesture helped him gather his thoughts and speak clearly. "The only other person in Japanese society who is handpicked by the Emperor himself is the Prime Minister."

"So my old man was a big deal in the system," Inuyasha shrugged. He was trying to downplay the news. Inuyasha didn't want Miroku to realize just how shaken Inuyasha truly felt; his stomach churned and ached with confusion.

"But it's the connection between them, Inuyasha, that you're failing to see. The Ministry of Justice oversees and is responsible for both the judicial system and Japan's intelligence agency. This means that at one time both Naichō and your father reported to one man, the Minister of Justice.

"I spent my day doing some combined research with the Deputy's Analyst, and we discovered that your father's employment with Naichō coincided with the indictment of the former Minister of Justice, Haku Mōryōmaru."

Inuyasha's eyebrows furrowed in recollection of the name. "Wasn't he the bastard who got kicked out of government?"

Miroku smirked. "I'm surprised you pay attention to the news at all, Inuyasha. Yes, he was the former Justice Minister who was charged with bribery, fraud, and breach of trust. Mōryōmaru was criminally prosecuted and given a life sentence in prison."

"And what does that have to do with my dad?"

"When I was a Research Analyst with Naichō, I had stumbled upon the name Mōryōmaru before. He was a known associate of Naraku's."

"Hold on," Inuyasha demanded, leaning forward in an effort to help himself think clearly. "So you're telling me that both Naichō and my old man reported to the same corrupt asshole who was known to hang around with Naraku?"

"That's correct."

"That's fucked up," Inuyasha sighed, rubbing his face with a single hand before leaning back into the cushions.

A moment of silence captured the two men while both tried to think through the jumble of implications churning in their minds. Inuyasha ended the silence by reaching into his back pocket and beginning to unwrap a new, unopened package of Sobranie Black Russian cigarettes.

Miroku sighed. "I thought you quit."

Inuyasha didn't acknowledge Miroku's comment. Instead, he pulled out his yellow matchbook, lit a match, and took a steady inhalation of smoke. His eyes watered as the smoke burned his lungs in a morbidly delicious wave of nostalgia.

"I'm surprised you still use the same brands," Miroku sighed, analysing Inuyasha's every gesture. He recognized the same brand of matches and cigarettes that all the kobuns used to use.

"Nothing else feels right," Inuyasha exhaled, feeling guilt begin to swell in his chest before quenching it with another robust inhale. "Not another brand of cigarettes, not even using a lighter. Besides, I need to do something about the stress before it kills me."

"The cigarettes are likely to kill you first."

Inuyasha merely shrugged Miroku's words away before the two succumbed to another lingering silence.

Inuyasha was the first to break it again.

"Hey, Miroku. Do you think Naichō teamed up with my dad in a joint effort to bring down Mōryōmaru?"

"That's quite a powerful alliance," Miroku mused. "A nation's intelligence agency and the head of the judiciary system."

"Was Mōryōmaru a known associate of Naraku's while my dad was the chief judge?"

Miroku shook his head. "I couldn't imagine that being known at the time of the indictment. But then again, the indictment was years ago; we were only children when it happened. Who knows what could have been public knowledge or hearsay? I didn't make the connection until years after your dad passed away. So, that being said, it may be a truth just waiting to be uncovered."

A silence lingered after Miroku spoke and Miroku attributed the silence to his having spoken to Tōga's death. Miroku held his breath expecting the comment to warrant a negative response from Inuyasha, but Inuyasha gave no sign that he even heard the comment. He just appeared introspective, puffing away on his cigarette, seeming to enjoy it while it lasted. Miroku couldn't remember the last time he saw Inuyasha give into his old habit.

"Do you think they would have known?"

"Known what?" Miroku probed.

"About Naraku being the oyabun, and about the Family," Inuyasha answered after a lengthy drag. "I mean, if Naichō was investigating Mōryōmaru and then they used my dad's power of office to prosecute him, they would have made one hell of an enemy in Naraku. Do you think they would have known exactly who they were crossing? I can't imagine how the oyabun would have made a friend in the Minister of Justice in the first place, but Naraku must have been pissed to lose that tie."

"That's an interesting suggestion, Inuyasha," Miroku deliberated, his hand to his chin. "Unfortunately, there's not a single piece of documentation I could find that indicates Tōga and Naraku had any connection, suggesting they knew the other existed."

Inuyasha grabbed a handful of papers in both hands while the cigarette butt hung languidly between his lips.

"You mean this shit?"

Miroku nodded. "What baffles me, Inuyasha, is how vague it all is." His eyes turned towards the paperwork and skimmed a few sentences. "Some items seem to be in chronological order, and some of the names I've found are known public figures. But there's so much nonsensical whimsy that just seems to be here and there. As an entire works, it all seems meaningless."

"Chronological, you say?" Inuyasha commented, comparing a few sheets together.

Miroku nodded, eyeing up a piece of paper with a list of seemingly random addresses on it.

"Where's the earliest date you've seen?"

"Over here," Miroku motioned to his left. "You're sitting by the most current dates."

"Pass me them. The oldest ones."

Miroku did as asked and watched with curiosity as Inuyasha went back and forth between papers, his eyes absorbing the information hungrily.

Inuyasha couldn't believe this was the first time he had even touched his father's documents. A part of his heart thud at the thought that Inuyasha was now the third person to handle his father's documents after Tōga's death. First, Kagome's brother. Then, Miroku. And now, lastly, Inuyasha. He hated feeling like the last to the party when it was his family's personal information being rifled through.

"You know I should kick your ass for having your cronies go through my dad's shit."

"I know," Miroku sighed nonchalantly.

Then, silence lingered between them both as Inuyasha took one final drag on his cigarette and discarded the butt behind him.

"It seems vague," Inuyasha remarked indifferently, "but it makes sense to me."

Miroku leaned forward in interest. "In what way?"

Inuyasha groaned, the obviousness of it all feeling like a weight being lifted from the centre of his chest. "It's fucking obvious now, actually."

"Then, enlighten me," Miroku encouraged with a cocked eyebrow.

"It's about me," Inuyasha sighed, trying to hide the pained tone in his voice. "He was tracking me. Probably using his connection with Naichō to do it too."

Miroku grabbed some of the papers that lay between him and Inuyasha. His eyes scoured for newfound meaning following Inuyasha's revelation.

"How on earth did you figure that out from all this nonsense?"

Inuyasha smirked. "The first dated page. Those notes. You see all those locations? I would have been six when those notes were made. I think I was taken around that time. He was looking for me.

"Then there's this page," Inuyasha noted, holding out a single page to Miroku's reaching hand. "See how it's titled 'Known whereabouts'? Naraku had a dojo in each of those places. He moved around a lot, and I was forced to follow. I dunno how my old man managed to figure that out. Shit, he even had Aokigahara on that list. He could have come to get me within a couple of hours..."

"He was tracking you." Miroku's comment faded into nothing as his mind turned with the sudden revelation.

"And the news articles. Your mother."

Inuyasha nodded abruptly, an action that silenced Miroku's words. "Yeah. He was tracking her too."

"I'm sorry, Inuyasha."

"Don't be. I barely knew the man. Clearly, if he had to keep track of his family by collecting this shit on us it must mean he was a pretty shit dad."

Inuyasha turned over another piece of paper.

A disbelieving snort through his nostrils followed after he read the first few words.

"He was on the fucking board of directors," Inuyasha grumbled under his breath. "My dad wasn't a fucking employee, Miroku," Inuyasha snapped, tossing the paperwork onto Miroku's lap. "He fucking supervised Naichō. That's rich."

Having read over the document that was just moment's ago in Inuyasha's hands, Miroku leaned back into the plush backing of the seat, his mouth wide in disbelief. The contract felt heavy on Miroku's lap.

"That's a lot of power for one man to have at one time," Miroku stated, his brain trying to piece it all together. "While Tōga was the acting Chief Justice, he was also one of the governing powers for the agency responsible for obtaining information in support of law enforcement, national security, military, and foreign policy objectives."

Inuyasha snorted. "I'm not surprised my dad had a reputation."

"A reputation?"

Inuyasha nodded. "Anytime I brought dad up, Sesshoumaru used to say that our father was nothing more than corrupt government agent who was as good at covering up the evidence as he was creating it."

Miroku's eyes widened. "That's quite the remark."

Inuyasha nodded again. "And the thing is, you read the news at the time of his death and there was lots of speculation about the sort of shit he was involved in. I guess his death just shut the door on all the rumours. The man was dead so what was the point in digging into it any deeper?"

"He certainly was a very powerful man," Miroku commented absently. "Especially in the last years of his life. You know, Inuyasha," Miroku stated suddenly, the tone in his voice changing. "My thoughts keep drifting back to a comment you made earlier, about Naraku."

"About my father and Naichō making an enemy out of him?"

"Exactly," Miroku bowed. "This is entirely supposition, but what if what you suggested is correct? Let's pretend Naraku was enraged that a powerful ally was taken away from him. What do you think he would have done?"

Inuyasha snorted. "Either killed the bastard responsible for immediate gratification, or do what he typically does and make the subject suffer for a long time."

Miroku's jaw opened with a sudden realization. "How much do you know about the history of the criminal justice system in Japan, Inuyasha?"

"Not a damn thing, but why do I get the feeling I'm about to be given a lesson in it?" Inuyasha joked.

Miroku ignored his joking nature.

"In the more primitive days of the system, did you know that kin and neighbours could share blame for an offender's guilt? Whole families could be put to death for one member's transgression."

"Sounds like a shitty time to be alive. What's your point, Miroku?"

"Inuyasha, do you not see where I'm going with this? Your father undermines Naraku by confiscating a strong ally—maybe even his strongest ally. You know how sentimental Naraku is. He's tied to history, mementoes, milestones. What if Naraku did take revenge against your father? And what if he did it by using the very same code that your father was meant to stand for?"

"What are you saying, Miroku?"

Miroku met Inuyasha's gaze with sombre eyes. "What if Naraku's kidnapping you was no accident, Inuyasha? What if kidnapping you was Naraku's revenge against Tōga? It's like the Biblical reference: the sins of the father being passed on to the son."

"But," Inuyasha paused, gulping past the lump in his throat as his eyes skimmed his father's notes. "That would imply my dad knew I was taken."

Miroku bit the inside of his cheek sullenly. "Yes, I suppose it does."

Inuyasha had to talk through this new revelation before he felt like his head was going to explode.

"So, you're suggesting that Naraku kidnapped me as an act of revenge against my dad, and my dad knew Naraku took me! Why the fuck wouldn't he come after me then? Why just sit back and make fucking notes about where I am and who I'm killing, rather than actually doing something about it? What kind of father does something like that?"

"I know how it sounds, Inuyasha," Miroku sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And it's all speculation like I said. It might just give us a little more to go on if it is true."

"And how the hell are we supposed to find out if my dad and Naraku really knew each other?"

"I have an idea," Miroku stated after a short lapse. "But you're probably not going to like it."

Inuyasha sighed. "When have I ever liked any of your ideas?"

"We need to call Kagura."

"Feh! That's a shit suggestion. What the fuck can she do for us? Kagura never gets her hands dirty. She has all her little lackeys to do her shit for her. Just call one of your old Analyst buddies yourself."

"Kagura has been with Naichō for years. She used to be my boss in case you forgot, Inuyasha. You may find her vexing—"

"—That's one word for it—!"

"—And I'll admit she tries my patience on the best of days. But she has access to considerable amounts of classified information, including that in the archives. She may have the information we're looking for."

"Ugh—Fine!" Inuyasha spat, crossing his arms in defeat. "Call her."

"You know she won't give me information over an unsecured line, Inuyasha. She'll want a meeting. At headquarters."

"And we'll go like the good little errand boys we are," Inuyasha quipped. "Just hurry up and call her, Miroku, before I change my mind."

Miroku pulled his phone from his breast pocket, scrolling through recent calls he had made. Selecting the number on his screen from a call he had made that morning, Miroku turned his eyes away from Inuyasha as the phone rang.

"Naikaku Jōhō Chōsashitsu. This is Kanna. How may I direct your call?"

"Kanna, it's Miroku Houshi. I need to speak with Kagura. Can you put me through?"

"I'm sorry, Miroku," Kanna's introverted, monotone voice replied. "Ms. Toppū is unavailable this evening. I can put you through to her voicemail."

"Kanna, this is urgent," Miroku responded promptly, trying to quell the irritation rising in his tone. "Can you please just get Kagura and tell her I need to—"

"—You have reached the confidential voicemail of Kagura Toppū, Deputy Director of Cabinet Intelligence at Naikaku Jōhō Chōsashitsu. Please—"

Miroku hung up without leaving a message.

"I can't believe Kanna just put me through to her voicemail! Does she not realize the urgency with which I need to—"

The whimsical chime of his phone's ringer interrupted Miroku's rant. Without bothering to read the caller display, Miroku accepted the call and placed the receiver to his ear.

"Miroku Houshi speaking."

"You're lucky I'm even giving you a call back at all, Miroku. Hanging up without leaving a message? I would have assumed you to have some manners. I hope Inuyasha isn't rubbing off on you too much."

"Kagura, listen," Miroku exhaled into the phone. "We need to talk."

"Of course we do," she curtly replied. Her rich, alto voice resonated warmly in Miroku's ear. "You know the drill, Miroku."

"Yes, yes, I'm familiar with your protocols."

"Shall I send a driver for you?"

"No, thank you. We can coordinate our own transportation."

"I'll see you soon then, Miroku."

"Very well."

"Oh, and Miroku?

"Yes, Kagura?"

"Bring the girl. The one in which the Kuzawari seem to have an interest. I want to ask her a few questions."

"Do I or Inuyasha have a say in the matter?"

Miroku could hear Kagura's smirk through the call. "We both know the answer to that."


Author's Note

Ta-da! So, do I know you as well as I think I do? Are you ready to go down the rabbit hole that is Tōga Taisho? I sure am!