Chapter 6 – Collateral Damage
Crinkled, deep-set eyes gazed placidly upon the elegantly-crafted surface of a maple shogi piece. The singularly inscribed kanji – etched in a vibrant Prussian blue lacquer – gave off a dazzling glimmer in the sparse rays of the setting sun. In almost mirror-like fashion, a similar twinkle could be seen in the passive observance of the immemorial being, currently seated languidly beneath the overreaching arms of a weeping willow tree. Though seemingly rapt upon the Game of Generals, attention had not been solely focused as another came grumbling into the peaceful garden, disturbing the solitude.
Brisk footsteps padded through the glade of crisp, verdant grass before stopping aside the same towering timbre. For a moment, all was quiet as the one standing and the one sitting resembled a tableau frozen in time. A mildly bothered look creased upon one wrinkled façade, while the other's half-lidded gaze continued to eye a miniature scattered militia upon a low table set before him.
There was a pregnant pause, a stillness as though the world had stopped to hitch a breath within this secluded patch of paradise. But it did not last. Before long, the newcomer abruptly sat with legs crossed creakingly as an audible huff cracked the air.
"Are you not curious as to who had called?" The question was finally posed by a lightly-wheezed voice when the silence stretched.
Long, branch-like fingers of a tawny brown reached forth to move the hisha – a lonesome yet loyal rook – four paces along the squares of the wooden playing field. A brief answer trailed easily. "I am."
"Yet you do not ask."
Low, rumbling chuckles echoed as though originating from deep within the earth while sloped, concaved shoulders quaked with each amusing reverberation. He peeked at the other's familiar yet expectant expression before answering, "I do believe you are going to tell me whether or not I ask, old friend."
The other stared. Blinked. Then, lifting a boney finger to scratch at the edge of a sunken temple, he, too, began reaching for a game piece. "Perhaps I am too predictable," he sighed in response.
"We have known each other for a near millennium, Totosai." The corners of his mouth rose lazily into a slim, crooked smile as jowl lines deepened across an oval face. "Certain aspects are foreseeable."
Bulbous eyes stared blankly at his aging companion's joshing statement. It was a fleeting reminder of their longevity, countless like the leaves that brokered their shade on this cloudless afternoon. But the brief reverie was quickly dismissed as Totosai shook his head with an upturned frown, expression turning inwards. "It was Sesshomaru."
"Oh?" The old youkai did not seem surprised, sounding no more interested in the conversation than he was in the board game.
"Apparently," Totosai continued with a callous wave, "the police did not find a trace of Naraku at the scene. The forensics report yielded nothing."
Hooded eyes lifted fractionally, casting a look upwards for the first time before he spoke leisurely without inflection. "That is a…new development."
A smooth slide of wood on wood sounded with the diagonal move of a kinsho piece – the golden general. "Indeed it is. Though, not wholly unexpected."
"And Sesshomaru?" Another piece shuffled quietly across the board into a predetermined position.
"Still adamant on digging for his buried bone." Frowning contemplatively, a bishop was slid into place.
"It is in his nature."
"I do not need a reminder. That pup is just like his sire."
"In more ways than one." The agreement was punctuated with a click as a keima piece – the unsuspecting knight – was captured.
Totosai huffed in annoyance at his diminishing fleet, lanky arms crossing below his chest. He was far more into the game than he was letting on. "That had been a bit of a shocker. Never in a million years would I have guessed he would enlist a human's aid. And a miko, no less!"
"Stranger things have occurred," his companion proclaimed before pausing the next move. Instead, his humourless eyes met Totosai's as he spoke. "Though I must admit, even my wizened sight had not seen that one coming."
Head nodding, he could only agree to that sentiment. Despite all attempts at controlling the outcome, it was never a guarantee. Nothing was set in stone. Permanence and absolution did not exist alongside the expanding ribbon of time. "You are wide-reaching, Bokuseno, but even you are not all-seeing."
The old tree demon smirked subtly at such foolish assertions. It would be the downfall of any who would dare to compare. Though ancient and wise, even he knew of his own limitations. "Only a Kami could proclaim as such."
"What shall we do about Sesshomaru?" Totosai hedged cautiously. The inu was a wildcard, and right now, he was unsure of how to strategize for optimal utilization.
"We keep an eye on him."
"And Naraku?"
The narrowed eyes slimmed further as though for once, struggling with indecision before Bokuseno responded, "He will make himself known, eventually."
"Do you not think he is dead?" inquired Totosai, but he already knew the answer. They both did.
The sagely tree creaked as a knowing smile formed. "No."
"Looks like you have not lost your wits to root-rot, after all."
"And you," Bokuseno chuckled mirthfully to the laughing jab, "have yet to crumble to dust."
"Not just yet." Totosai flashed a toothless grin before casually sliding another piece across the board. "Oute."
-X-
Sesshomaru had just finished his call to The Council when the doorbell chimed through the living room. The sound of his footsteps padding over to the entrance left barely a whisper in the sparsely-furnished interior, accompanied by the hiss of a door sliding open to allow entry for the expected guest.
And as expected, the guest brushed in without so much as a greeting, settling bags of groceries on the marble counters of the kitchen and immediately rifling through the contents. He joined her from a distance at the island counter a moment later, watching silently as she began unloading food packages into the refrigerator and rows of gloss-white cabinetry. Knowing for a fact she did not want his help with the minimal chore, he simply observed, taking note of all the familiar and unfamiliar things being arranged.
Keen eyes roamed past recognizable items – a single loaf of bread, an air-sealed package of meat sausages, a bottle of multivitamins – and landed on items that were of a more mysterious nature. Curious, he picked up a nondescript plastic container, turning it around in his hand to read the bland, white label.
Solyent – Ready-to-drink meal.
Frowning in mild disgust, the container was placed back upon the counter to join the other two, litre-full bottles, amongst other seemingly artificial sources of sustenance.
"We do not need these," he remarked while gesturing to the aforementioned items, each looking increasingly vague and straying further from what could legally be categorized as food.
Turning around to see what he was referring to – as she had been busy stocking the cupboards – the woman snickered upon glancing at the spread of items before returning to her task. "You may not, but us humans do."
"Meats and fresh vegetables –"
"– are expensive and do not last well in storage," she interrupted firmly, tone edging sharper than previous.
"You are not paying. I am," Sesshomaru punctuated, his own voice hardening to her challenge, "and these things – barely edible as they are – do not belong in anyone's diet."
Rolling her eyes, she turned once more to face him, and immediately wanted to slap the haughtiness right off his face. "Grateful as I am for your generosity, I won't allow us to get used to your level of luxury. Not all of us come from money and prestige."
"This has nothing to do with –"
"Whatever you say, Lord Sesshomaru," she mocked, brushing him off with a wave of hand. "Don't think I haven't looked up your family history. Being born into royalty isn't trivial, even for Daiyoukai like yourself."
Sesshomaru had to forcibly hold back a snarl, not usually one to let anyone talk to him in such a manner.
How dare she insinuate that his life had been handed to him on a silver platter? That all his fortunes were not the result of hard work? Even though current incomes were passive in the making, it had still taken decades of grind and dedication to build up all that he had now. He wanted to put her in her place, to properly educate her on his true past.
But this was a special, delicate circumstance. And as she resumed her task, he knew any additional friction between them would only hinder the progress made. And currently, he needed her here.
Reducing annoyance to a mere glower, he noticed the coffee that had sat forgotten on the countertop. Reaching for the mug, a lacklustre sip was taken, grimacing at the lukewarm liquid that was still half-full as he contemplated other recent turn of events.
Redirecting the frustration of having to forcibly tolerate this guest on a near-daily basis, his thoughts ventured to the incidents that had led them to this tentative situation and the abysmal results of local police.
The ridiculous, utter incapability of Sanctum's Finest.
What a joke.
They had one job. Everything had been handed over in a neatly wrapped gift – everything they needed to hunt down the bastards, all with solid, incriminating evidence – and they still had managed to screw it up.
No arrests.
Not even a raid.
Because for some goddamn reason, the hard-earned evidence had been misfiled. And as a result, caused a delay in forensic analysis –
Which caused a delay in getting the arrest warrants –
Which then caused a delay in the cops getting to the suspects –
Which resulted in them getting a head start to go on the fucking run.
For five days, suspects had ample time – likely hearing of their impending arrests through the grapevine – and had cleared out everything that had been left in Naraku's club – anything that would have contained data had been wiped clean, leaving no digital trail.
Even their scents had gone stale by the time Sesshomaru had been able to circle back.
The only hard evidence recovered were those that had been downloaded onto the bracelet. But even then, it painted only a partial picture of the whole operation, and he was still no closer to finding the true motive of it all than those first few days he had spent meticulously combing through each file.
Each piece of the puzzle evermore infuriating.
Each scrupulously hidden document uncovering more and more heinous acts.
And the victims – what Naraku had done to Kagome's family – if he were to find those degenerates, those ingrates first, he would –
"What time will you be back?"
Sesshomaru's train of murderous thoughts halted at the sound of Sango's voice. Glancing up, he caught the gaze of her dark brown eyes – not so different in colour from the bitter liquid floating in the warped mug still in his hand. Relaxing his grip, two steps brought him over to the sink where he began to pour out the remainder.
When the last drop fell to its demise, he answered. "The usual time."
"You'll need to be back an hour earlier," she said while putting away the last of the groceries. "I've been called in to cover an overnight shift."
"Then I will be back by ten." Rinsing the dirty mug and placing it aside, Sesshomaru could sense her eyes burning upon him from the side. There was something on her mind, he could tell, and throughout their past interactions, he knew she would state her unfiltered thoughts, though sometimes it had been done through more passive-aggressive means.
Nonetheless, the growing silence was urging him to say something – uncharacteristically as that may be. Anything to move along this wayward correspondence they had going on. So, he started, "Is the occu –"
"Listen, Sesshomaru," Sango cut him off, causing him to snap around and face her, eyes connecting by an invisible line of tension. "This –" she gestured between them, "small-talk or whatever, can stop, because we obviously don't like each other. I could almost label you an enemy for what you did. And though I appreciate all that you're doing now, it does not change the circumstance of our truce. The only reason I'm here is for her, and her only. Our communication will only pertain to her and the case, nothing else. Not about some stupid groceries, or whatever deep issues we've each got hiding. Understood?"
Sesshomaru, at times whose temper could range on the scale of being volcanic, was largely a being of patience and unparalleled control. Thus despite the irascible woman's condescending tirade, he knew she was only lashing out from a point of frustration at the current situation. And though it was clear as crystal that she held him accountable of such circumstance, he couldn't quite dispute her point of view, because he had been culpable, at least to a certain extent.
And besides, her demands were for his own benefit as well – the less he interacted with her prickly mood the better. So he simply inclined his head in agreement.
She nodded back in acknowledgement, arms uncrossing as they both came to an understanding. And suddenly, the air seemed less tense.
"So," she change the subject then, "where is she?"
"Balcony."
Knowing exactly where to go from there, Sango pulled away from the counter while grabbing a take-out container. Sesshomaru followed a few paces behind as they both made their way through the living room and onto the attached platform.
The outer living area was spacious, wrapping around two full sides of his penthouse in luxurious white marble, lined with glass and edged in gold-accented railings. Greenery in various planters dotted the area tastefully for balance –panels of shrubbery coated one wall with climbing ivy vines, monstera deliciosas provided partial shade with their fenestrated leaves the size of place mats, and at the focal point of the balcony sat a giant bird of paradise plant towering nearly thirty feet high, its stems reaching towards the heavens with curved, slitted leaves.
It was not much, but what little help the plants could provide in filtering the air had made a world of difference, even at such a high altitude. If his suite had been on the lower floors, the flora would have been pointless to overcome the abundant pollutants. It would have taken a whole forest.
The rest of the décor and furnishing was minimal yet sleek, sporting sofas and sectionals in ivory-white cushions and smoke-grey framing. Seating had been arranged around a low glass-topped coffee table and facing south-west, perfect for watching sunsets upon the city horizon as it was now.
Rivers of reds and oranges, pinks and violets coloured the sky, flowing into one another in splendid gradients. It was a beautiful sight, and Sesshomaru had to look away, lowering onto an armchair, guilt plaguing as he watched Sango approach the figure seated across from him.
"Hey there," Sango softly greeted, sliding onto the empty seat on the sofa while carefully setting the container and some cutlery on the table. "I've brought your favourite. It's miso chicken –" popping off the lid and peering in, she took a savouring sniff, "well, it's a congee variation of it. I think you'll like it."
Tucked comfortably in a corner of the sofa, Kagome sat wordlessly, wrapped in a fluffy white blanket as her gaze remained set upon the turning of dusk. Unmoving hands were clasped loosely upon her lap as her back rested against the sofa's backing. Dark, inky strands fell around her shoulders in waves to frame her like a renaissance portrait.
A study of still life.
Sango forced a smile, undeterred of the lack of response. Dipping a spoon into the warm congee, she gave it a stir before bringing it towards her friend's slightly-parted lips. With little effort, she was able to slip the spoon in, helping the contents into her mouth with a cupped hand hovering just below to catch any spills. Satisfied at seeing her swallow without issue, Sango reached for another spoonful, picking out any large chunks that would require chewing, and repeated the motion.
Sesshomaru stayed quiet, a silent observer to the ritual taking place before him. Many times, he had wished he were not there to pay witness, but no matter what, he could not seem to distance himself, feet weighing like lead welded to the floor, forcing him to face the blooms of his failure.
And such catastrophic failure he had been to such an innocent, undeserving soul.
There had been days – weeks – where all that had occupied his mind were things he could have done differently. Each modified step stemming into an alternate branch of potential reality that wasn't this.
A bunch of what ifs.
What if he had been the one to infiltrate the club for data instead of her.
What if he had made the connection sooner that Naraku had been Onigumo all along.
What if he had never went back to her for information.
What if he had never met her.
What if – what if – what if!
And yet, there was nothing that could be done to change the history of what had taken place. No time-travelling machine of sci-fi lore. No 'undo' button for real life. No magical object to wish it all away.
The popping sound of a can opening caught Sesshomaru's attention then, pulling from his inner contemplations back to the two women on the sofa. The food container was now half-empty with remaining slivers of meat and broth, spoon cast aside. It almost put a smile to his face, knowing Sango had managed to get Kagome to eat a good portion. Lifting his eyes, he could see a straw held up to her mouth, the rest disappearing in a can of vitamin water within Sango's grip.
There were slight movements – lips motioning, opening and closing – before Sango once again helped close Kagome's lips over the straw as she began to drink. They had been thankful the first time this had been attempted when they discovered – after a few spills and mishaps – that some unconscious actions could be triggered by familiar actions, such as swallowing food or drinking liquids. Grim as it were, they could not deny the utter relief upon finding the knowledge that there had still been a way to sustain her without inducing a coma, as both had been wary of further lasting damage when messing with temporal functions.
But still, despite the minor reprieve in such a discovery, Kagome had remained oblivious to the world around her – ears not seeming to hear a single word, eyes wide and vacant; never registering the sights around yet reflecting every colour blazing through the atmosphere each time he had sat her out on his balcony.
Each day, he would arrange her in perfect view of the rising dawn or setting sun, knowing that if there was ever a chance that she could see – that she could really see – the scenery would be well appreciated. She would enjoy that, very much, he knew.
And it had become a habit now of placing her there – a ritual of sorts – after witnessing the rare but occasional eye movements. They were almost imperceptible. Just a twitch, but enough to drive hope one second and shatter it the next when she would revert back to that doll-like, empty stare.
"I didn't mean to be rude," Sango said in a near-whisper, almost apologetic, once again snapping Sesshomaru's attention to the here and now. "I – I just miss her. It's been a month already, and – and I just don't know how much longer I can take. It's breaking my heart to see her like this."
By now, trembling was visible along the line of her lips pressing together as she stuttered out her fears, each word an echo of his own trepidation. Salt tinged the air when tears beaded along her lashline like luscious pearls. She hastily wiped them away, ego preventing the damn from caving to weakness in front of him.
He was used to her stubbornness by now, used to the veiled front of unwavering bravery she would put up for him. She was a strong, blunt, tell-it-like-it-is woman with a penchant for vengeance. And he was glad that Kagome had her as a friend, glad that she was here to help despite her own anger towards him. The past month had seen them working together towards Kagome's care in Sesshomaru's home. Schedules were arranged so at least one of them would watch after her – feed her, wash her, dress her. He could have paid a live-in nurse for the task, but the thought of leaving Kagome in the care of a stranger in his home was not as favourable as their current arrangement. Something within him screamed not to trust anyone until the case was solved. He could not risk another misstep.
At the sound of a sobbing hiccup, he looked Sango in the eyes, hoping she'll find respite in his next words. "She will be cured."
"But how can you know that? There was nothing in the files that mentioned this – this condition," she beseeched, motioning to Kagome who continued to sit perfectly still, blank eyes aimed lifelessly at the darkening sky, "there's been no way to figure out how it was caused or even how to reverse it."
That much had been true, but he had begun looking elsewhere. She had been made aware of his persistent efforts. Even now, she could see the wariness that marred his once-pristine image. His shirts were looking less crisp, as though slept in. The burgundy tie he had on now was slightly off-kilter. Even his hair – seemingly immaculate from the first time she'd met him without a disguise – seemed dull and unbrushed, wayward stands knotting up occasionally. And try as she might to hate him, she just couldn't find it in herself to truly despise him. Not after all that she'd seen of him as of late.
"A lead has been found. A neurosurgeon with a background in cybernetics," he elaborated gently, seeing Sango perk at the news. He hated seeing women cry – even those that had been giving him a ridiculously hard time at every interaction. "I have already shared the schematics of the implant along with the diagnostics of her condition."
"And he's got a way to fix Kagome?"
Sesshomaru nearly faltered when she pierced him with demanding, hopeful eyes seeking a confirmation – a truth. He did not want to over-promise, yet he didn't want to disappoint either.
Because he wanted this to work as much as she did.
Needed it to work.
Countless leads had already been exhausted, not even coming close to any plausible solution. Weeks upon weeks had been spent combing through every file, every contact; for anything related to the mysterious chip implanted into Kagome's neck. Yet all had been a dead end.
Quite literally, all contacts he had come across had been labeled deceased – and all via drug overdose or of some natural causes, and all without a proper autopsy. It was no coincidence, for that he was sure. It had to have been a cover-up for blatant murder; to tie up loose ends. Scientists, engineers, doctors – all mentions of those who had potentially worked on this covert device were dead, each body count killing a fragment of hope he still held for saving the woman that had so courageously aided his endeavour.
But he had not stopped searching. Refused to yield. His honour demanded he expend every resource at his disposal to chase down every lead. And he would be dammed if he would give up so soon.
Sesshomaru's golden eyes darkened in resolve. "He will. And if he does not, I will find another way."
Feeling the weight of his promise in the surety of his tone, Sango finally let herself relax, shoulders easing into a slump. The pent up frustration she had been holding in all week had been building up to a crescendo, pushing her to the edge of wanting to surrender hope to not feel the pain of having it snatched away again at another dead end. And yet the other side of her knew she couldn't give up – would never give up – because Kagome was family. She would rather die than to give up on family that needed her.
And for once, she let go of her anger, and was thankful that this newly-acquainted inuyoukai – though strangely quiet and aloof – was just as adamant about not giving up on her dear friend. She knew that perhaps most of his actions were driven by guilt – she had made no effort to stay silent of her agreement to that sentiment – but she was still thankful for him sparing all the resources at his disposal to help.
"For her sake, I hope this is the one," Sango voiced with renewed optimism. "How soon?"
"I have arranged for Dr. Schwarz to fly in from Germany next week. He will assess her, and if all goes well, an operation will be scheduled to reverse what had been done prior to the chip's proper removal."
Turning away from Sesshomaru, Sango held a hand to Kagome's soft cheek, turning her head slightly to gaze in to wide, cerulean eyes. "You hear that, Kagome?" she whispered with a genuine smile that had not surfaced for a while, "We're going to get you back to your silly old self soon. Very soon."
-X-
A/N: Oute = Check (like in a game of chess)
Goddamn this was a hard one to write. Enjoy, and please leave a review if you are liking this! Feedback is gold J