Chapter Seven

Breaking Myth

Professor Taisho's eyes narrowed, the skin beneath them tightening minutely as he looked over this most recent rendering. He did recall seeing the bizarre and out of place-seeming clay vessels. They did look correct, but somehow—in a way he could not put his finger on—he felt the image was . . . empty. He wasn't entirely certain why that word seemed to fit, but the jars lacked in something that he could not recall seeing at the time.

"And you're positive there was nothing else? Nothing at all?" he finally asked, remaining bent over the sketch as he was.

Kagome exchanged a glance with Sango behind his back. They had spent the last two days going over their fabricated details. The jars were empty, they were forced to conclude the tragic story portrayed on the temple interior was only some terrible ancient fairy tale—akin to a Greek myth.

The only place The Thief of Bliss existed must have been in the minds of this long-forgotten tribe.

Because of the state of the chamber, they would not be able to do a proper, possibly more simple reenactment. Professor Taisho was going to go on camera and walk an imaginary audience through the incident and Kagome, because she had been there at the time—and had not lost consciousness—was tasked with aiding him in this retelling. Her sketch would serve to provide the viewer with a more accurate impression of what they had seen at the actual moment they'd made the find.

Equally important—not only to Professor Taisho's credibility and Kagome's future prospects, but for the entire team—was that they establish that neither of them had done something to cause harm to the ancient tribal artifacts.

"Yes, I'm absolutely positive," she said her voice firm. Kagome was able to pull off fibbing if it was a rehearsed stretching, or even out right breaking, of the truth. "They were most likely just ceremonial pieces and the people choose to hide the jars because of their spiritual significance to them shortly before they disappeared from the area. Right?" She wanted to make it perfectly clear she was asking him if her assumption was correct, not telling him how things were.

Letting out a heavy breath, he nodded. Straightening, he rolled up the page. "Right. I suppose now we have no choice but to go and be done with this atrocity. Shall we?"

Kagome nodded in response, falling into step behind the professor. She held in a cringe when he did a slow double-take over his shoulder at Sango trailing after them.

"Ryoushi?"

Sango blinked up at him as she and Kagome both froze in their tracks. "Hmm?"

His brow furrowed lightly. "I was under the impression that since that section came down there have been no further visual anomalies in the recordings."

Sango forced herself not to give any telling glance in Kagome's direction. They didn't want to make Professor Taisho suspicious. They also didn't want him to think there was some reason they were wary of him being alone with Kagome.

"That does seem the case, but I figure if we're wrong, then I'll be right there to catch any defects as they occur. We can just re-shoot that part rather than cutting it later and having to come back just to redo one small part of the presentation."

As predicted, the sheer tedium of that notion had the professor giving a faint scowl. He wasn't a big fan of wasting time over anything that wasn't considered strictly essential.

"Oh, and Kagome had suggested the reenactment might feel less tiresome and monotonous if the camera was manned. You know, so that it'll be like you're explaining things to the person behind the lens, rather than talking to the camera."

Sango finished with a casual shrug, ignoring that Kagome was staring daggers at her and shaking her head vehemently. Why would Sango think she wanted some of the credit for this? Kagome stopped herself just in time, forcing a light and relaxed smile as Professor Taisho turned to her with a nod.

On an ideal dig, a person manning the camera would be a give-in, but as they were such a small crew, a camera person had become something considered a luxury they'd fast learned to do without.

But if the professor wasn't going to question why Sango would suddenly have free time, then Kagome wasn't going to draw his attention to it.

"Alright, Higurashi," he said after a moment's thought. "We'll give this a try and see how it goes."

With that, Professor Taisho was striding through camp toward the trail, Kagome and Sango following. Sango hung her head nearly the whole trek to avoid glimpsing the scowl her friend was wearing.

Sango watched the two walk through the discussion that had led to the examination of the now-shattered section of wall. Kagome was so at ease around Professor Taisho, that felt odd, what with knowing that that thing was hiding inside him, somehow. She hated to think about it, but she had to wonder how the girl was coping with the entire mess. Granted, Kagome had always been quick to adapt to things, and she'd had a few days to firmly set in her mind that though the professor and The Thief shared a single form, they were worlds separated from being one-and-the-same.

Like a supernatural form of dissociative personality disorder. She blinked hard a few times, trying to banish the headache this sort of tangled thinking was likely to cause.

As they retold of Kagome handing over the translator's notes and Kagome's initial explanation to the professor of the similar positioning of the anomalies Sango got the oddest impression that they were omitting something. Not intentionally, but as though they were both skipping over some part of their original discussion and going directly onto the translation. Sango pushed the impression aside—they had likely figured out separately that whatever it was had no bearing on the actual incident.

Kagome and Professor Taisho—after relating both the horrifying and tragic tribal myth, and their initial reactions to the tale—crossed the chamber, detailing their slow and delicate examination of the wall. At this point, the professor allowed Kagome to take lead of the discussion. He stated that because they were drawing close to the moment when he had been rendered unconscious, he could not be entirely positive of where his cognitive memories left off and his mind's necessity to fill in any perceived blanks might begin.

The young woman might not like being put on the spot, however—perhaps due to the presence of the camera, or the notion that she was aiding to shape the education of other future archeologists—Higurashi Kagome was now authoritative and confident, despite an almost uncharacteristic soft-spoken tone. This was the way she would hold herself when she gave lectures or spoke in front of a class. In a way, she reminded him a little of his younger self.

Kagome pointed out how the wall had splintered, glossing over how she and the professor had gotten out of the way just in time as that chunk of stone had slammed into the temple floor. She stepped into the small, recently cleared alcove, outlining for Sango the precise placement of the jars and their arrangement in relation to one another. Stepping out again, she held out a hand, causing Sango to arch a questioning eyebrow, but Professor Taisho wordlessly reached back, retrieving her rolled up sketch from the altar and placing it in her hand.

Kagome unfurled the page and recounted the conversation they'd had in regard to the jar's unusual craftsmanship with respect to the native culture's traditions. She rolled the paper up once more, clasping it in one hand as she described their quick sidestep and swept her free hand outward, illustrating the manner in which the final piece had smashed down, destroying the jars, adding to their work the unenviable task of trying to discern what was wall and what was academically priceless artifact. She was well aware how devastating that simple accident of environment had been, as she was one of the team members tasked with sorting through the tiny mountains of jagged debris and grainy dust that had been carted back to the research tents.

"Then Professor Taisho hurried back to the alcove to check the damage and, quite literally the next thing I knew, he hit the ground." Kagome was focused on the details of the amended timeline she had worked on with Sango, running it over in her mind again and again to keep her voice from faltering or any unwanted, too-vivid, memories connected to those unchronicled moments from working their way into her head.

"I checked his pulse," she went on, "and then was preparing to exit the site to call for help when he woke up. I remember being startled and . . . ." Sango, watching Kagome like an over-protective mother hawk the entire time gave her a reassuring nod. "And I dropped my walkie. He'd already gotten up by the time I turned around. He took a few steps, I thought he was alright, but then he collapsed. Again, I checked his pulse, and at that time I did leave to fetch assistance."

Professor Taisho nodded, a barely visible hint of a smirk pulling up one corner of his mouth. "Well, we could have been a little more vague about that last part, don't you think?"

Kagome shrugged. "I wanted to make it crystal clear that no inappropriate measures were taken at any time, Professor."

He nodded and then Sango piped up, "Well you know, I can edit that part out, if you like."

Again the professor gave a small nod. "Let's play it through and see how well it all works first, I think. One final thing, Higurashi."

"Hmm?" Her eyebrows went up a little in question.

Kagome was relieved she had gotten through this all without so much as a trembled word, but she really just wanted to get out of here, now. She didn't believe The Thief would dare emerge when there was a witness—or during the day. Though she wasn't positive, she hoped his visits would be nocturnal, that had to be why a moon phase was part of his name.

She couldn't help that being back at the scene of the crime—as she thought of the altar room, now—made her feel as though the demon would erupt from the professor at any moment.

"For the sake of the recording," he said, folding his arms across his chest, "about how much longer do you think it take to sort the remnants of the artifacts from the rubble?"

Blue eyes widened a hint. "Oh, but Professor I'm hardly any sort of expert. I would think it would be better if you gave the time estimate."

He gave a half-nod. "You're working on that project directly. I would like to hear your best guess."

Kagome offered a shrug, exhaling through pursed lips. "At the moment it's only myself, Ayame. and two or three others at most handling it, and Shippo is alternating cataloging duties with us when he can. So . . . ." She nodded firmly. "I would say another week, week and a half at the outside?"

After a moment, Professor Taisho responded, "I arrived at the same estimate." Amber eyes shifted toward the camera as Kagome heaved a quiet sigh of relief. "I believe that's it."

Nodding, Sango stopped the recording and began rewinding the footage. "Do you want to give this a quick review now? I can note any frames you want cut. That'll make the editing a little less time-consuming."

He seemed to give this a moment's consideration before stepping over to Sango to watch the replay over her shoulder.

Kagome fidgeted a bit. She wanted to go, but didn't feel certain she could trust that The Thief would keep his word—her hopes about the schedule he maintained notwithstanding. And even if she thought he would, she understood Sango would feel awkward being alone with the Professor, knowing what the demon was using the man's form to do.

Kagome leaned against the wall where it curved into the chamber's entryway. In the distance, she could hear Dubois and Bruckner in another chamber. Then, she heard something that tugged at her heart and sent a tiny trembling chill into the base of her spine.

Faint and muffled, she could hear the distinct sound of weeping.

Glancing back into the chamber, she saw Sango and Professor Taisho distracted with the recording. Crossing her arms beneath her breasts, she bit deep into her lower lip, forcing herself to ignore the noises.

The sound became more insistent, the frequency of the hiccupped cries only made the sorrow resonate that much deeper.

She tried to put it out of her mind. Acoustic echoes, or something of that nature. Nothing more than a distorted noise—water dripping somewhere in the temple, or even in the outer cavern, and reflecting off the walls, garbling the sound.

But . . . her conscience nagged at her. What if that was someone crying? One of the other interns sneaking into the depths of the temple to have some place to be alone. Ayame was always worrying about the strain this long trip was putting on her relationship with her boyfriend. What was his name? . . . Ookami Kouga? If she recalled correctly, he ran track. Ayame was more cranky than usual as of late; what if she'd gotten bad news when she'd called Tokyo on their last town run?

Kagome sent another sideways glance toward the pair glued to the camera's viewing screen. She'd just pop out to track down the noise and be right back. If she found out later that it had been someone sobbing and she hadn't gone to check on them and offer a shoulder to cry on—whether the gesture was accepted, or even welcome, or not—she would never forgive herself.

Leaning down, she squirreled a hand-held glow rod out of her pack—her lantern w too bulky, retrieving it would be noticed. The last thing she felt like dealing with Sango making her feel bad for having a conscience. She slipped the rod into her pocket, sidestepping around the entrance and out into the corridor.

She was quiet as she followed the sound, peering into chambers and small nooks as she passed them. She didn't dare call out. Not only would that alert Sango and Professor Taisho that she'd sneaked off and make her feel like an idiot if the sound was only some distorted environmental effect, but that this was how people in cheesy horror movies got killed.

Even beyond such foolish reasoning, she didn't want to frighten whoever it might be. After what had happened when she had last been in this temple, she wasn't certain she could consider any sort of cautionary reasoning foolish.

She withdrew the glow rod and activated it, holding the spot of illumination out before her. She could still hear the mournful sound echoing lightly off the rough stone walls. Why did no one else hear this? Her mouth pulled tight to one side as she hmphed inwardly at herself, ignoring that emitting that noise was a habit she'd picked up from Professor Taisho. Unlike her, everyone else present was distracted with their work.

Reaching the end of the corridor, she still hadn't found anything, yet the sound persisted. A frown tugged at the corners of her lips. Maybe she'd missed something?

Kagome turned on her heel, halting in place as she heard a sound like stone grinding against stone. Her brow furrowed as she looked over her shoulder. At the base of the wall, just behind her feet a trap door had opened.

The sobs grew louder as she stared into the deep blackness the door revealed. Ice crept around in the pit of her stomach—the sound couldn't be coming from down there, it couldn't! Turning her head forward again, she dropped her gaze to her feet. Sheneeded to leave, but bolting away would not be unwise in a professional, academic-curiosity sense.

No matter how she felt or what she heard, she couldn't just go back and potentially let the door close without figuring out how she'd trigged it to open. She'd not felt or seen any pressure triggers . . . and as far as they had found to this point, there were no booby traps in the structure.

And what was that sound?

Letting a slow breath ease out from between pursed lips, she lifted one foot and there, beneath her heels, was the vague outline of a small diamond-shaped stone. The indentation was so indistinct, maybe no one had noticed . . . or no one had stepped on this exact spot.

Nodding, she set her foot back down. She was going to get the Professor and Sango, right now.

She took a step and, she wasn't sure how it happened, but her legs went out from under her. Kagome hit the temple floor on her abdomen, knocking the wind from her lungs. She sucked in a pained breath to call for help as she scrambled to get to her feet, but slid backward and down through the trap door.

It happened so fast, she didn't even have time to let out a scream before she landed on some sort of dry, rustling cushioning that crinkled and crunched beneath her as she pulled herself to sit up.

The space around her was pitch black and she realized she must have lost her grip on her glow rod when she'd stumbled. Gods, when had she become such a klutz! Shaking her head at her own stupidity, she shifted to stand when she realized . . . .

The crying had stopped.

A cold awareness rattled through her at the silence. She hadn't slipped, she'd been pulled.

By what?

Placing her hand down to steady herself a little, she turned, listening intently. Her skin crawled and every inch of her went numb as she felt a skeletal hand snake its way around her wrist.

Sango jumped at the muffled and distant shriek that rang through the temple. She exchanged a brief, confused glance with Professor Taisho. Another shrill scream sounded and they both turned their attention to the place Kagome had been.

"Higurashi." The professor was across the chamber and heading into the corridor in a blink.

Sango rushed to catch up to him, nearly colliding with Bruckner and Dubois. They hurried down the corridor in time to see Professor Taisho reach the end of the passage.

He stooped to pick up a seemingly discarded glow rod. The other three looked around in confusion as a hiccupping voice sounded from somewhere, but Professor Taisho was staring intently at something on the floor. He sat on his knees and brought his fist down on the faded diamond outline.

The trap door grated open and the sound of hysterical sobbing filled the air.

"Higurashi?!"

"Professor! I—I can't see!" Kagome shrieked the words—her mind was too numb by now to care how unprofessional this might appear later. "There's something down here with me!"

Sango couldn't believe what she was witnessing as the professor—without a second thought—jumped down, through the dark opening. She bolted forward, slamming her heel down on the trapdoor's trigger to keep it from closing, again.

Dubois and Bruckner were right behind her, but she only barely felt one of them bump her shoulder as they halted. They looked down into the eerie green hue of that sparsely illuminated darkness to see Professor Taisho, his arm protectively around a bawling Kagome.

And on the floor, barely visible from their vantage point through a heavy scattering of tattered rags and ancient, dried leaves . . . .

Sango felt her heart crash down into her stomach as she clamped a hand over her mouth. Kagome wouldn't even look at it—she couldn't. The sense that it was glaring at her in accusation was palpable to her.

"If the story of this place was a myth . . . ." Professor Taisho let the girl cry into the hollow of his shoulder as he took in the disturbing visage of the skeleton chained to the floor; decayed and dehydrated bits of flesh still clung stubbornly to bone here and there.

Clearing his throat to mask the sudden welling up of distaste on the back of his tongue, he continued, "Then why do I feel like we just found The Thief's high priest?"