"We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of inspiration and survival."
(Winston Churchill)
Youtou Shinnoken
A Rurouni Kenshin/Yuyu Hakusho Crossover Fan Fiction by Chester Castañeda
Original Concept by Chad Yang
Yes, I'm reusing an old chapter title that was left over from the last rewrite. Recycling is good for the environment, I hear.
Disclaimer: Yuyu Hakusho is the rightful property of Yoshihiro Togashi, Shueisha, Fuji TV, and St. Pierrot. Rurouni Kenshin is the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.
Chapter 26: Tactics (Part 1)
On July 5, 1989; late Wednesday evening; somewhere outside the roads of Ueno District's Taito City, near the Asakusa District...
Daiji Matsudaira opened his eyes and looked down. He then opened his mouth to rasp out a scream that never escaped his throat. His eyes burned like they were bleeding. What the hell was going on?
On his midsection was a horizontal slice across his clavicle for the number "one", two diagonal slashes over either side of his pectorals for the number "eight", and a crucifix over his belly that nearly gutted him for the number "ten". Together, they formed the logographic Chinese character for "Hei", but that point didn't register in his mind at the time.
His chest seared liquid fire. Like an old Nikkatsu-Roman-Era grindhouse "pink film" (i.e., a Japanese softcore pornographic theatrical film) with missing reels, his memories after he charged at the maniac who stabbed his wife were blurry at best. He vaguely remembered a car accident as well. However, the pain back then remained crystal clear to him. It burned him inside out.
It rained, which did nothing to dull his agony, the proverbial sparks and lightning zaps of his nerve endings making him plenty aware of his soul's tenuous grasp of the mortal coil.
After gathering his wits, he espied four indistinct figures in the distance: No matter how much he squinted, the only things he could make out were silhouettes of a muscular man with long hair, a dwarfish man, an overweight man, and a slender man with claws on both of his balled-up fists.
Who were those people? What were they doing there with him? Were they out to help him or harm him? Why did they look so familiar to him?
Daiji moved his head to the other direction and he saw another muscleman bathed in blood, his body filled with cross-marked slashes, second-to-third-degree burns, bruises, stab wounds, and so forth. He appeared as though he had just clawed his way out of Hell itself. He had his back turned, a thick, red "Hei" scar similar to the one on the officer's chest etched across his deltoids, rhomboids, and latissimus dorsi.
"If you and the other blue meanies are going to get me, you better get off your asses and do something," challenged the "Hei"-scarred man.
'B-Blue meanies...?' thought Matsudaira. 'What nonsense was he talking about?'
From that one statement, Daiji realized that today's incident was not an accident. Not by a long shot, as evidenced by this supposed stranger's knowledge of his job as a policeman. Other hindsight-based epiphanies came flooding in, such as his wife's insistence that someone was stalking her within their neighborhood and in the subway during her commute weeks before this seemingly "random" crime occurred.
He would also realize four years later something else about that quote. Something important. Something sinister.
He scrambled up to his feet, prepared to lay down his life in order to keep his wife safe from this unkillable monster, when he noticed the broken piece of metal he gripped on his hand, its sharp edge stabbing his palm so deep that a hint of bone appeared on his injured hand's wound. Where did this blade come from? He didn't have any weapons on him when the fight started. What'd happened, exactly?
He took a look at the stranger's nodachi; its top part had in fact been broken off. Did he do that? Was he the one responsible for the man's cross-shaped wounds and cracked longsword? What happened to him and this maniac earlier before he lost consciousness? Aside from basic self-defense training, he never took up kendo or any weapon-based martial art.
The man looked over his shoulder and at Daiji's fallen form as the fog within the recently recruited copper's brain lifted, snapshots of their momentous, improbable battle flashing before his eyes in barely a second.
Daiji's whole body burned and throbbed not only from the pain of his scars, but from the strain of the fight. In retrospect, perhaps he'd somehow gone above and beyond his limits, even though he was already physically fit to begin with as part of his training to become an officer of the law.
All the same, he had a more important task to take care of.
His grip on the nodachi's broken tip loosened, the shattered weapon clanging on the ground as he rushed towards his clammy-skinned wife who was surrounded by a large pool of blood that reached all the way towards their crumpled car's tires.
He shouted her name. He cried. He forgot all about the man who stabbed his significant other and forced his car to crash. Only "It-chan" mattered to him at the moment. He didn't know when his attacker left nor did he care.
Itsumi's eyes fluttered open, her glasses long ago lost and forgotten, her hair a disheveled mess, her skin as white as marble, her mouth gasping for air as though she were a fish out of water.
He bit his lip, his heart breaking from looking at something so beautiful and sad. "Everything is going to be all right," he lied while smoothening out her hair.
He lifted her up, surprised at how light she'd become, his hands feeling the moistness of her sweaty, creamy skin and the stickiness of her blood. "I'm going to get you to a doctor. I'm going to save you both." He was referring to her and their unborn child.
"You were amazing." Itsumi smiled, her lips as white as her skin, her eyes looking straight at him yet seemingly staring at something else entirely. "I don't deserve you."
Those were her last words. She was pronounced dead-on-arrival at the Sensoji Hospital by the time she got there.
Two weeks after the assault at Genkai's temple... on March 17, 1993...
At the Shinjuku Police Station, Detective-Investigator Daiji Matsudaira had just finished cracking the Quintuplet Murder Case, wherein three of five Shimamura Quintuplets were accused of raping and murdering a fellow student of the Shinjuku Yamabuki High School. He did so with the help of two other Shinjuku Yamabuki High School students: His sister-in-law, Likka Ikumi, and her best friend, Natsuki Shinkai.
The case was a curious one right from the start because in the beginning, the serial murderer known as the Kanji Killer was the one accused of the rape-slay of sixteen-year-old Miki Kishida.
However, Detective Matsudaira himself doubted that Kishida was another Kanji Killer victim because of the "Hon" character instead of the "Hei" or "One-Eight-Ten" character on her corpse. It was a common misconception for amateur copycat killers to use the "Hon" character as a way of framing the Kanji Killer for their deed.
Ultimately, Miki's sister, Katsumi, came out and accused one of the quintuplets (whose names were hidden from newspapers and TV news reports because of their status as minors) of victimizing her sibling.
The problem was that when the brothers released their statements in regards to the case, they all pointed fingers at each other.
One quintuplet who confessed to the crime and had the most fingers pointed at him became the prime suspect, but then came along the shady character of Akio Oogata, an ex-boyfriend of Kishida who served as a witness to the murder but was hinting at making a deal with the brothers' rich parents in return for his silence.
A couple of days later, Oogata himself ended up dead, the kanji of "Hon" carved on his corpse by either the true perpetrator of the crime or the Kanji Killer himself, sticking his nose into the whole affair while mocking his copycat.
However, Akio left an important hint: After taking one look at the statements of the brothers, he noted that only three were telling the truth.
By using logic, in-depth research, and the process of elimination, Daiji was able to deduce who the murderer was and investigate what had happened in a more exhaustive manner.
Afterwards, with the help of a surprise witness, he had Houjo, the second oldest quintuplet and the third oldest Shimamura brother, confess to his crimes.
He also had a bit of help from his snoopy sister-in-law and her detective-wannabe friend in stalling the gathered families before he released his bombshell, so everything worked out fine all-in-all.
...Save of course for the facts that Oogata's murderer was still at large and the only reason that Detective Matsudaira took the case was because it originally involved the Kanji Killer: Tokyo's very own version of Northern California's infamous Zodiac Killer.
Three weeks after the assault at Genkai's temple, back in the totally devastated Onden Shopping Street, right in front of the Onden Shrine...
Yahiko looked back and forth at Kenshin and Sanosuke, the two long-lost friends locked in a speechless staring contest of sorts, before hitting his open palm with a tightened fist and exclaiming, "Shinentai!"
"Gesundheit." Sanosuke did a double take. "I mean, pardon? 'Shinentai'? What's that?"
Yahiko shook his head while making "Tsk," sounds with his mouth. "You should read up more about ghosts and the facts of the afterlife, Sano. A shinentai is a human that has passed away with strong, unresolved feelings. That desire eventually turns into a shinentai or earthbound spirit. I believe Botan here may have been possessed by Kaoru's shinentai, which was how she managed to manifest herself using the shingami's astral body as her medium of sorts."
Botan's ears wiggled upon hearing her name called, but then protested, "While you do bring up an interesting theory, kid, don't you find it strange that some random ghost from your past possessed a certified Goddess of Death like me? Can spirits 'possess' other spirits, for that matter?"
"Kaoru isn't a random ghost... but you're right," Yahiko admitted as he shut his eyes in deep contemplation. "I've never heard of a shinigami getting possessed by a shinentai before, although I've heard of certain spirits possessing other, weaker spirits. Other than that, you might as well be the reincarnation of Raccoon Dog Girl. I'm not sure."
"Well, if you're not sure, then stop trying to act like you are, you insufferable half-pint!" Sanosuke declared before putting his fists over Yahiko's ears and rubbing them raw with his knuckles.
Botan then spoke, her tone of voice changing to that of someone who was intimately familiar with the three ghosts before her.
"It's so wonderful to see you all again. Sano. Yahiko. Kenshin. Oh, by the way, Yahiko; I know someone you've just got to meet! Another old friend of ours who was reincarnated in this present time! It's...!"
'She shifted personalities again,' Yahiko and Sano thought before they heard someone cackle.
Kenshin motioned the rest of the reunited Kenshingumi... and Botan... to keep quiet with a wave of his hand after booming laughter filled the devastated part of the Onden Shrine that extended all the way back to the streets of the Onden Shopping District.
"Oh great, the Chojin is still alive?" Sano grumbled as he let go of the red-eared Yahiko and cracked his fists, his knuckles making sounds reminiscent of chestnuts roasting over an open flame. "That Class-S bitch hasn't learned his lesson, huh?"
At that point, Botan figured something out as she took control of her body again. "By Enma's beard, that Chojin bastard used a shikigami just like the Onmyouji did! The guy Kenshin turned into a smoldering crater was nothing more than a summoned familiar!"
"What? Onmyouji?" Yahiko asked while gingerly patting his throbbing ears.
"...N-Never mind. The point is that we weren't able to finish off the true Chojin."
Botan waved Yahiko's questions off after remembering that the two revived spirits hadn't met the Chojin's conduit and most faithful servant yet.
'Come to think of it, Kaoru herself didn't recognize Houji either. According to Tanuki-chan's memories, Sanosuke was with Kenshin when they faced Shishio, so maybe Sano himself knows who this Onmyouji bastard is.'
Afterwards, the transparent image of a bulky, scarred East Asian man with lidless eyes, bleach-blond hair, a cactus-spine stubble over his lantern jaw with an underbite, sneering chapped lips, and a sheathed Japanese longsword he slung over his shoulder and hung behind his neck appeared before Botan, Kenshin, and the revived souls of Battousai's comrades from Meiji Era Japan.
"So you're the Chojin? Some mobster-looking yakuza dressed in a monkey suit? And here I thought you were some sort of undead youkai who's bent on taking over the world. You've got to be kidding me," Sano said, his eyebrow raised way up while his fist was cocked back and ready to swing.
"Sano, don't worry. He can't hurt us now, and we can't hurt him. That is merely a phantom our enemy is using to communicate with us from a distance," Kenshin reassured, remembering how the Onmyouji used the same trick to reveal that he was Sadojima Houji.
"Ah, so you're the so-called 'army' that Koenma Daio gathered against us. However, as per usual, even before all this happened, I've remained ahead of the curve and preemptively cut your force down in half." The newcomer chuckled, his words betraying a singsong accent that the others identified as Chinese.
"You're not the Chojin at all, are you?" Kenshin declared, which prompted varying gasps of surprise from all those gathered, including a wide grin from the Overfiend imposter.
Meanwhile, from a distance, the faint whine of police sirens steadily grew in volume as the minutes passed by. "And I'm fairly sure you aren't Shishio Makoto's reincarnation either, despite your jaki flames. It's funny how you were able to mimic two people at the same time with only one shikigami."
The ghostly apparition let out another thunderous peal of bellowing laughter. "Ah, but I never said I was the Chojin or Shishio." This made the hairs on the back of the quartet's (arguably quintet's) necks stand on end. The man that appeared to be a Chinese mafia boss had now confirmed Shishio's involvement with the Chojin's faction and his existence in modern times.
"Even though the shinigami is correct about my use of a shikigami in our fight, you still impressed me with your show of strength. I didn't realize you could combine the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki with the Hiryu Sen. So how did you figure things out?" the hulking Chinese brute asked, his Japanese nigh-impeccable save for his enunciation.
"It may have been a while, but I recognized the words you told me earlier. In fact, I remember to whom exactly I told that message to. Do you understand the message that I just sent you now?" Kenshin asked the intangible image of his newest enemy.
Meanwhile, Yahiko put two and two together, an image of his past rival appearing in his mind's eye as he mouthed, "The Hiryu Sen...! So that Chinese guy is the reincarnation of...!"
"I've read your message loud and clear, Battousai. But did you also understand mine?" the Chinese man queried as he put his marked, lantern-jawed face mere inches away from Kenshin's, their sharp noses nearly touching each other.
With that, Sanosuke charged and took a swing at the Chojin wannabe, but as the redhead explained, the man was merely a specter, so the street fighter's punch hit nothing but air.
The Chinese man's self-satisfied smile never left his seemingly holographic likeness amidst the flying rubble and debris that passed through him.
"You were barely able to survive the shikigami that I and the Onmyouji created; mere shadows of our true might. The power of jaki is limitless; as limitless as mankind's capacity to sin. You were even forced to use your most powerful technique even though the body you destroyed was that of my familiar. How well will you fare against the real me? I wonder if I'm good enough to draw out the Youkiri Battousai I've been hearing about."
"Feh. You don't have the right to gloat, Blondie. We kicked your ass, and it turned out that you were merely hiding behind a puppet all this time. If you're as powerful as you claim to be, then try to fight us for real. I'm sure you'll regret it," Sanosuke said after his Futae no Kiwami attempt made contact with the devastated ground.
The attack created a another crater on top of the crater made by the shikigami's explosive demise that forced Kenshin and the others to jump back a couple of feet away.
"Sano, you idiot! Didn't you hear what Kenshin told you? You can't touch him! What, do you want to kill us too?" Kaoru complained while Botan moved their shared body away from the blast with her signature boat paddle.
On the tip of the wooden oar hung Yahiko, his other hand aiming the so-called Bronx salute (he learned it from American soldiers back in World War II) at Sanosuke.
The Chojin imposter's astral projection remained unaffected by the devastation, his feetless legs floating in midair. He then began to ascend towards the sky like some sort of dark messiah rising from the pits of hell itself.
Kenshin shook his head and sighed. "You've learned nothing at all. I asked you to become a real swordsman and appreciate the value of life, death, and suffering. Instead, it looks like you've become nothing more than a parasite to others; a vampire who feeds off the blood of the innocent," he rebuked, remembering what happened to Yusuke Urameshi's girlfriend, Keiko Yukimura.
The nodachi-wielding man was just another Seiryu; a bully and abuser who couldn't survive without manipulating other people to do his bidding.
"It's nice to see you acting like a holier-than-thou hypocrite, reprimanding me for using my victims as my strength even though you yourself honed your assassination skills by the art of murder as well. This is the nature of my killing sword. Taking advantage of the suffering of others is just one of many methods to achieve full power; things such as strife, discord, fear, and anger can be projected unto this alternative life force to make it become even more potent than before. It's certainly unlike reiki, which is harder to cultivate because it can only be produced by the purest essence of an untainted soul. To be true, suffering is a more abundant commodity than happiness."
"Despite your denials, you didn't only impersonate the Chojin by flaunting your Class-S might and Shishio by imitating his flame-based techniques; you've also stolen their beliefs... the Law of Nature and Survival of the Fittest... and repackaged them to suit your own inadequacies."
The invisible force of Kenshin's sword-ki emanated from his body in waves, to the point that the Chojin impersonator's specter warped and distorted from the show of strength. "You've corrupted my advice and turned it into something rotten and evil. What are you fighting for, Rai...?"
"Please, Battousai. Call me by my name now. A name I've picked myself: Xinhai Feng."
Both Kaoru and Botan gasped as one as they remembered the name... not only did it confirm the death goddess's accusation that the man before them warped Burashi's values to the point of turning him into a serial killer, the name also harkened back to a mission that she, Kenshin, and Kurama had to fulfill a week ago. 'Oh my gods, he's the Xinhai Feng that the Kanji Killer was talking about last week! He's Natsuki-chan's...!'
Kenshin also had an epiphany. "Even if it was only a shikigami, you were able to give it power equivalent to that of a Class-S warrior, yet from the looks of things, you aren't serving as a conduit to the Chojin's might. You're instead doing the same thing Seiryu did to one of our allies three weeks back. Are you using Shinkai Natsuki-dono the same way Seiryu used Yukimura Keiko-dono in order to gain the power you have?"
The grinning glare Xinhai gave Kenshin was that of a man possessed. "You were able to figure all that out with only a mere mention of my name? Your skill is surpassed only by the power of your intellect. The bonds between a victim and victimizer can be as deep as those of lovers or a master and a slave. However, my relationship with Xiaji is only part of my secret to success. I look forward to dueling you for real in the near future, Battousai."
'Xiaji...?' thought Kenshin.
Xinhai's floating astral projection commenced fading into the ether. However, before he disappeared altogether, he gave the Kenshingumi these parting words:
"Jaki is jaki. Reiki is reiki. Do you honestly think that Koenma Daio can resurrect souls who are long dead without a price? Even jaki requires quite a bit of sacrifice in order to work. He has brought back and awakened all your allies from the past, Battousai... but at what cost?"
From there, Feng Xinhai's astral body vanished into thin air, leaving the four (or five) people still present within the confines of what was left of Shinjuku's Onden Street.
"Youkiri Battousai, huh?" Sanosuke asked Kenshin. "And here I thought you were already a handful as the Hitokiri Battousai. Is that what you've been doing all these decades? Slaying demons?"
"It's... another long story. To be quite frank, I don't know all the details behind this Youkiri Battousai business either. I'm suffering from a bit of memory loss after being cooped up in the Legendary Shrine of the Sword for Enma-knows-how-long," Kenshin admitted with a helpless smile.
"Anyway, that smug Chinese asshole is full of shit. He acts like some sort of know-it-all super villain, but when it all comes down to it, he's just another run-of-the-mill lackey working for real big boss of this terrorist organization, the Chojin."
As Sanosuke dusted himself off, both Yahiko and the Kaoru-possessed Botan ganged up on him with their respective blunt objects for needlessly adding to their injuries earlier when he tried to punch what was essentially a ghost.
"YOU BIRD-BRAINED MORON! Watch where you're aiming that thing!"
"...That's what she said?"
"ARGH! DIE!"
"Ow! OW! You bastards! It was an honest mistake! And I can't believe you of all people would do this to me, Jo-chan! I... I was the one who clothed you! And I even saved your life, you snot-nosed, porcupine-haired brat!"
"Yeah, and as a token of my appreciation, I'm hammering you down with a sheathed sword."
"YOU'RE WIELDING A SAKABATOU, YOU BASTARD! It makes no difference whether it's sheathed or not, it's still blunt, dammit! OW!"
Wisely, the battle-worn Kenshin sneaked past the trio in order to not somehow become part of the dog pile of violence. Nevertheless, when he looked over his shoulder and watched the antics of his old friends, he couldn't help but grin. 'I missed this.'
The red-haired spirit guardian beckoned the Kaoru-possessed Botan and confessed, "Xinhai barely used his true technique or potential while I battled his familiar, so he kept me guessing while we battled. In fact, his sword style had a bit of Nikaido Heiho in it."
"Nikaido Heiho! So Natsuki-chan was right! There are two Kanji Killers on the loose!" Kaoru exclaimed while hitting a no-look smack over Sano's head with Botan's paddle.
As the two resurrected spirits exclaimed, "Kanji Killer? What the hell?" Kenshin nodded. "Just like the demon Rando, Xinhai loves mimicking techniques. Other than Shishio and Jine, he probably mimicked the Onmyouji too when he produced that fiery familiar to finish us off. It all makes sense."
Just then, Botan's communicator to the afterlife went off like an alarm for a nuclear reactor meltdown within the pockets of her reconstituted clothes, which allowed her to quell Kaoru's mutiny within her own body and cease punishing the empty-headed, broom-haired man.
She fumbled through the school uniform she "made" out of Sano's coat that was several sizes too small for her before finding her portable communications device and answering it.
"Hello? Jorge? Why are you calling me instead of Koenma-sama? Where is he? Does he want updates on the situation?" Botan inquired with a toss of her frazzled hair after seeing Jorge Saotome's horrible blue visage fill her mobile video telephone as she made a mental note to get herself a spare kimono once she got back to Reikai.
"No, nothing like that. Miss Botan, we have a dire emergency! Koenma-sama has collapsed from sheer exhaustion and is now bedridden. You need to come back here in the Spirit World as soon as possible!"
After Botan backhanded Sanosuke for asking, "Gods get sick? Do they have hospitals back in the Spirit World?" a newer, more feminine voice greeted her through her communicator.
"Botan-san! We're all in a panic here! This is the first time we've ever seen Koenma-sama get sick in centuries! You've got to help us!" came the frenetic Hinagashi's high-pitched plea as she interposed herself into the conversation, which led to her pushing a red-faced Jorge back while they crammed themselves cheek-to-cheek within her communicator's viewscreen.
"We'll be right there. Thanks for the info. Bye-bye." Botan turned off her communicator and exhaled. "Kenshin. Sano. Yahiko. We have to go back to Reikai."
The quartet would later understand the meaning behind Xinhai's warning: Everything had a price, and to obtain anything, something else that was equal in value must be exchanged or sacrificed for it.
'Koenma-sama, please be all right!'
Back in March 17, 1993; two weeks after the attack at Genkai's temple, around evening, within the confines of the Shinjuku Police Station's interrogation room...
"Hello, Houjo-kun," Detective Matsudaira called out after bowing to the latest perp he landed behind bars... or, in his case, behind juvenile probation or whatever constituted as punishment for delinquents in Japan because the kid was just a minor... Houjo Shimamura. "I was afraid I'd missed you before you got out."
"What the hell do you want? Are you here to rub it in?" Houjo crossed his legs and put a hand over his waist, his back slouched against his steel chair's backrest. "The fuck with this. I want my lawyer. I'm not talking about anything unless he's here. I know my rights."
"I'm here to make a deal with you, and believe me, you're in no position to refuse," said Daiji, his piercing blue eyes boring holes all over the sweaty and befuddled teenager's person.
"You betrayed your family, especially your brothers. I highly doubt any of them are interested in saving you from serving out your sentence at all, Family Law or no. If you want to have a semblance of a future, you'll listen to what I have to say."
Houjo paused for a couple of seconds before letting out a single guffaw and concluding, "You're bluffing, and I have nothing more to give or lose. You caught me red-handed, Detective. Congratulations. I killed some slut and I wasn't able to get away with it."
"You're right. You have nothing more to lose and everything to gain at this point. Helping me out will take the least amount of effort on your part. Someone as privileged as you should be quite familiar with such a situation, right?" Daiji intoned while gathering the papers within his folder relating directly to the Quintuplet Murder Case.
"I want the whole rape-slay case to be dropped. I don't mind paying off Mikan's sister or whoever with my share of the family fortune for the rest of her life to buy her silence, but I want to forget that this whole thing ever happened," Houjo demanded with a sneer, but then he slumped back to his chair with one withering look from Daiji's iron gaze.
"You're not in the position to make demands, Houjo-kun. What I'm offering you is a chance to move on from your mistakes by lessening your sentence. I'm not here to give you a free pass." Daiji's mouth quirked slightly as he towered over the fourteen-year-old boy, which served as his own version of a scowl. "It seems that until now, you haven't learned your lesson. A pity."
"T-That's hardly the tone of voice I'd expect from someone who's asking something from me instead of the other way around," Houjo stuttered as his voice cracked, but he otherwise remained receptive to the detective's proposition, his hand over his face, his thumb resting on his chin, and his index finger scratching his cheek. "You could at least say please."
Instead of humoring Houjo and his passive-aggressive shenanigans, Daiji went straight to the point. "While I was investigating your planned... 'activities' concerning Kishida-shi and a Kanji Killer frame-up, plus the unusual circumstances behind Oogata-shi's death, I discovered something curious. You were visiting Kabukicho quite often, seemingly at the advice of one of your father's underworld connections. Tell me, what do you know about Chikyusei?"
Houjo's complexion changed then and there, like a chameleon would when camouflaging itself during autumn. "I don't know what you're talking about. Didn't you and your fellow Blue Meanies already figure out that the Kanji Killer thing was a ruse and I was behind the entire thing?"
Houjo shrunk back down to his chair as the narrow-eyed six-footer said, "Huh. 'Blue Meanie' is hardly a word I'd expect a fourteen-year-old Japanese boy who was born barely two decades ago would know about. Where'd you first hear it?"
Houjo stared to the side, on the floor, conscious of the glare of the lamp and the detective before him. "I-I just heard it from my father. He's an old man. I overheard him saying it."
"Oh? Is he a Beatles fan?"
Houjo's face stretched to horse-like proportions as if Daiji were propositioning him for a one-night stand. "What? Beatles? No. Is that the foreign band? What does that have to do with anything?"
"The Blue Meanies were the villains of the 1968 Beatles film, 'The Yellow Submarine'. People who were alive during that era should know about that. Under normal circumstances, neither of us would know about them because they're pop culture references before our time, and western ones at that."
Daiji asked, "Do you want to know how I know who the Blue Meanies are?" Houjo gulped as the detective remained an inch beyond their respective personal boundaries.
"The Kanji Killer himself told me that. Upon further research, I found out it was a quote from his idol, San Francisco's Zodiac Killer, whose killing spree started around the time after the Beatles' 'The Yellow Submarine' was released."
Houjo went silent. He wanted to mention that he'd been hanging out at a nearby records store selling old, foreign products and whatnot, but his story was already full of holes.
"Big deal. So I used a term that was once used by the Kanji Killer, who's probably some old fart who listens to old foreign hits. So what? Does that necessarily mean I'm in league with the Kanji Killer?"
"I was asking you earlier about the Earth Club, and you replied that the Kanji Killer had nothing to do with the killings. That seems rather odd," Daiji noted. "Are you implying that the Earth Club has something to do with the Kanji Killer, then?"
"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" Houjo screamed as a sleek layer of moisture covered his body from head to toe. "I already confessed that I got Mikan pregnant, I killed her over it, and I framed the Kanji Killer and my own brother to get away with murder! Isn't that enough?"
"I'm well aware that you're a smart boy. However, your whole plan reeked of the Kanji Killer's modus operandi. Copycat killings to hide copycat killers. You didn't plan it alone. If it wasn't for those two witnesses, one of whom was killed by another Kanji Killer, the case would've been waved off as part of the wave of copycat killings we've been experiencing since the Kanji Killer first arrived in the scene. Now tell me what you know about the Chikyusei."
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT! I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" The last few screams prompted the nearest officer on duty, Officer Shigetaka Uye, to unlock the interrogation room and tackle the frothing Houjo down in order to keep him from leaping up and strangling the taller and older twenty-something policeman.
"It's times like this that I wish Japan had juvenile detention laws," remarked Officer Uye. "Did you get what you want out of this kid, Detective Matsudaira? Did he give you any leads on the Kanji Killer?"
Daiji was just about to shake his head when he felt something inside his coat pocket that wasn't there earlier. "Maybe. Maybe he did. If you'll excuse me, Officer Uye..." He bowed and made his leave then and there.
Outside the police station (during the time when, unbeknownst to him, Natsuki Shinkai underwent a life-or-death struggle against the real Kanji Killer), Daiji took hold of the contents of his pocket that Houjo probably slipped into his coat when he lunged after him: A plastic business card with an address and the zodiac symbol for earth... the same target-like sign that the Zodiac Killer used as a signature... on it.
Three weeks after the assault at Genkai's temple, within the heart of Nishi-Shinjuku or the Shinjuku Skyscraper Business District (one of the few places in Japan where it was allowed to build high-rise buildings because of the country's penchant for earthquakes) at the forty-fourth floor (designated as M or the Mechanical Floor that was accessible only by the Freight Elevator, but actually hid one of the headquarters of the Triad's Shinjuku Branch) of the Shinjuku Hisashi Building...
The sweaty yet keyed-up Feng Xinhai sat back down his leather office chair, his head throbbing something fierce as he brushed his bristled, bleach-blond hair back and produced a fine mist of his own moisture.
"I never thought deploying a shikigami against the Battousai and his friends can take a lot out of me. Even after I've gained a level of power equal to that of Makai's conqueror-class demons, that waifish redhead remains as troublesome as when I first met him."
"They're an interesting bunch, aren't they, Xinhai?" came the harsh, "gas leak" hiss of Houji Sadojima's spiritual holographic projection.
The Onmyouji, otherwise known to the Chojin's growing rebellion against Reikai, Makai, and Ningenkai as Houji of the Hundred Sense, further probed, "Were you able to gauge the true strength of Battousai with your defeat? Or did you come out empty handed?"
Xinhai smirked. "We both didn't show him our true power, so he didn't show his either. Although his vagabond self was able to equal and surpass the power of his hitokiri self by learning the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu's succession technique, the Youkiri Battousai has power even beyond that. The demon-slayer proved himself so dangerous that Koenma Daio was forced to use the Mafuu Kan to seal him and the Youtou Shinnoken away around the time Japan suffered the devastating might of the Atomic Bomb."
Houji's apparition turned his nose and harrumphed. "And where did you steal that information from? From one of my fellow Dai Shin Kan cohorts?" To himself, he muttered, "I knew that bitch would blab."
The hood of the Onmyouji's cloak fell down as his gestures became wider, revealing his strange, perfectly solid bowl cut, a dark gray suit, and a yellow silk tie reminiscent of his formal wear coat-and-tie ensemble a century back. "Was it from Lord Tenro himself? Or was it merely hearsay and rumors you've heard through the grapevine among your fellow Shin Ju members?"
Feng chuckled. "My apologies. It must've hurt your feelings to see me know so much about the Battousai, especially considering that spiel you kept reciting to our enemies where you extol the virtues of your long-dead former master, Shishio Makoto. Let's just say I have my sources, and I've been doing my own research too."
"In other words, you failed your mission to finish off two of Reikai's first recruits in the fight against the Chojin because even you, a greenhorn S-Class, is no match against Himura Battousai." Houji half-wheezed and half-cackled, remembering the Overfiend's high praise of this mere Triad hooligan.
"I hope this serves as a humbling experience for you, Xinhai. Just because you learned enough about jaki to level up into an S-Class human doesn't mean that you can act all high and mighty. There are people who are more powerful than you. You're nothing but a big fish in a small pond. Don't be so full of yourself, you ingrate!"
To the Onmyouji's chagrin, the bulky illegal immigrant and mafia leader's toothy grin widened to the point of taking over half of his face. "Please. Don't tell me you bought that simplified, children's show malarkey I told Battousai and the others regarding jaki and how to cultivate it, right? It isn't nearly that simple."
The wards that the Onmyouji placed on Xinhai's body to keep his Class-S power in check and out of the Spirit World's radar crackled with inverted black-and-blue flames that distorted the air around them.
"Rest easy. I have no intention of taking your place at the Chojin's side like the pathetic sycophant that you are. My position in the Triad and the Shin Ju are all mere stepping stones to bigger and greater things. Unlike you, I have ambition. In the past, I acted out different roles. My shikigami even acted as the Chojin a while ago, and Battousai and his friends fell for it hook, line, and sinker! What I am now are the clothes I'm wearing for the time being. I can change whenever I want. I am everyone and no one at the same time."
"Such insolence! Learn to respect your betters, Xinhai! Don't forget that you were the lowest of the low in the Chojin's army when you first started out. Your position in the Shinjuku Triad Society matters not to us." Houji the Onmyouji's astral body glowed purple, his wards constricting around the impassive Xinhai while three grim-reaper-like shikigami materialized out of thin air.
"You're a mere human thug who became part of our operation because in your past life, you once fought Battousai and lived to tell the tale. Even though you're part of the Shin Ju, you should know your place, you common criminal! A pawn has no right to delude itself into thinking he's a king!"
Just as the first shikigami transformed his corpse-white arm into a decapitating scythe aimed right at Xinhai's neck, the Chinese mafia boss pulsed with negative energy that fried the familiar to an instant crisp; ashes to ashes and dust to dust.
"I was able to do what Gein and his Unit 731 couldn't accomplish... harness the full power of jaki and make it grow instead of depending on the Chojin as our only resource for negative energy," said Feng as he strolled over Houji and his two remaining minions.
"Drugs, DNA manipulation, human experimentation, psychological warfare, zombiefication, and demonification weren't the answers. I alone knew what had to be done. The Chojin now needs me as much as I need him, maybe even more so."
Feng's face was so close to Houji's astral projection, all the Onmyouji saw were crooked fangs and broken, yellowed teeth.
"As the Chojin's liaisons officer, you of all people should know what I had to go through in order to become what I am now. Breaking apart the human spirit and feeding on its remains is a specialty of mine. Don't think for a second that just because you have supernatural powers, I won't be able to unleash the same horrors upon you."
Out of the blue, Xinhai's speakerphone blared in Chinese, "489! 489! My pardons, but all our guards at the ground level are down! Even 426 is dead! There's a man with a Japanese longsword like yours headed your way! We've killed the power to the elevators, but he took the stairs and took out the rest of our men! Our bullets can't even touch him, and he unsheathes his longsword with lightning quick reflexes! It's insane!"
The number 489 actually referred to Feng Xinhai's rank as Leader of the Triad's Shinjuku Branch, which was also known as the "Mountain Master" or "Dragon Head". Feng took his face out of Houji's personal space, scowled, and answered in his native tongue, "Who am I speaking to? What happened to my secretary? Or 415? 432? 438?"
The 415 referred to "White Paper Fan" Administrators, the 432 referred to the "Straw Sandal" Liaisons Officer, and the 438 referred to the "Vanguard" Operations Officer, "Incense Master" Ceremonies Officer, or "Deputy Mountain Master" Deputy.
The man on the speakerphone hesitated before stating, "I'm a 49er, but I'm the only one who's left. Everyone else is dead or has fled." By 49er, the man referred to his rank as an ordinary Triad member.
Xinhai moved his tongue inside his mouth. "Answer me this. If you're the only one in our gang that's left and even my secretary is dead, then how did you survive all the way here? You'd have to be at my secretary's desk in order to connect to this speakerphone."
A new voice responded in Japanese, "I made a deal with your little foot soldier to spare his life in exchange for serving as my guide to your office. I was surprised that your secretary also functioned as your bodyguard. He sure can fight with those twin daggers."
From there, a bloodcurdling scream and gunshots echoed in the background before a squelching sound and two dull thuds were heard. Feng harrumphed and went to an altar at the left side of his spacious office that housed his favored weapon.
Houji signaled his summoned shikigami to dissipate, chortling as he himself declared, "Karma is a bitch, Xinhai Feng. Enjoy heaven's retribution," before winking out of existence.
Xinhai barked in hyena-like laughter as he slung his lengthy weapon over his shoulder. "...Implying that I didn't plan for this to happen anyway, you Chojin-fawning toady."
The double doors leading straight to the Chinese Triad boss's room collapsed into what seemed like geometric puzzle pieces before Xinhai could even blink.
Outside the doorway, bathed in blood that turned his light blue uniform dark purple, stood the reed-thin yet steadfast figure of a six-foot-two, twenty-something police detective wearing a heavy trench coat, his right hand sheathing his nodachi with a firm click.
"We meet again, One-Eight-Ten Killer. Or should I say, Triad Dragon Head Xinhai Feng," the man greeted with a bow that made Xinhai snort and shake his head. "You may not remember me, but I'm Detective Matsudaira Daiji. I'm here to take your life."
"Welcome back, Detective Matsudaira. It's nice to see you again after so long. Or would you rather I called you Matsudaira-san? How about Matsudaira-kun? I never bothered learning Japanese honorifics. They confuse me."
As Xinhai spoke, he drew out the entire length of his curved longsword at the newcomer, producing a multitude of vacuum slashes reminiscent of the ones that nearly cut Yahiko into pieces earlier on.
Like an acrobat, the nimble, blood-soaked detective dodged and sidestepped each and every last crescent slash that turned Feng's office and all the neighboring rooms into bits of polygonal wood, concrete, plaster, metal, and other types of building material debris.
He underestimated the ferocity of the slashes though, so his coat ended up getting ripped into ribbons, which forced him to take it off.
Xinhai did a low whistle. "Impressive. I'm glad you took my advice, sprung out of your cocoon, and metamorphosed into someone special, like I did. I guess my 'sink or swim' method of awakening you was far more effective than I expected. It's too bad that you're still wrapped around in bits of 'silk' from your burst cocoon, though," the Chinese man mocked, referring to the bandages and bomb wounds that remained on his enemy's person.
True to Feng's implied knowledge of his current condition, Detective Matsudaira stumbled a bit after landing from a jump, which allowed the mafia boss to barrel over like a freight train and take a second swing at the policeman. Fortunately, Daiji's body acted on its own accord by counterattacking with a roundhouse kick to the Chinese man's face.
Xinhai stopped on his tracks, but otherwise wasn't moved an inch from where he halted. The detective jumped back and waited, the gears in his head turning and grinding overtime for his next couple of moves.
"So which of Battousai's friends or foes are you, I wonder? How much of your past life's memories have returned to you? Judging by your weaponry and that kick, I have a good idea who you are." Xinhai licked his upper lip and wiped his bleeding nose.
"I can't believe my luck! I've victimized so many people that I actually managed to ensnare not one, but two warriors from Meiji Era Japan before either of you were awakened by Koenma Daio! Your suffering is the reason why I've become so strong. Your obsession with me has enabled me to compete against actual demons in terms of power. Feed me more of your tears!"
Daiji winced and gnashed his teeth as his chest throbbed with a blazing heat that burned right through his bones. Nevertheless, his righteous indignation remained even hotter than that.
"It-chan," he murmured, his torso aflame as he grabbed hold of his sword's handle and charged towards the Triad leader and his nodachi that sliced apart anything it touched.
The date was July 5, 1989; around the roads of Ueno District's Taito City, near the Asakusa District...
Detective Matsudaira... at the time, Officer Matsudaira... remembered it as though it were yesterday. Or perhaps as though it were mere hours ago, even. His twenty-year-old self was driving along with his beautiful wife of one year, the bespectacled nineteen-year-old Itsumi Matsudaira (nee Ikumi), inside a three-year-old Honda CR-X after a dinner date a couple of hours ago.
He had picked her up around seven after work as a rookie police officer in training. Had certain events not transpired that day, he would've still remembered that night regardless for several reasons, the most prominent of which was...
"I think I'm pregnant with your child, Jiji-chan," his wife informed as an icebreaker of sorts.
"I'm happy to hear that," was Daiji's monotone... albeit honest... response while estimating the distance between nearby cars and planning the best route to avoid getting stuck in a traffic jam on a Wednesday night.
"You're really beside yourself with joy, aren't you?" came Itsumi's droll observation. "You're almost like a burst party favor, Jiji-chan."
"Please don't call me 'Jiji-chan'," said Daiji before bringing up, "So you're pregnant. That's wonderful."
"U-huh. That's what happens when a girl and a boy really love each other..." trailed off Itsumi, her tongue literally in her cheek to clue her husband in about how serious her statement was.
"Not necessarily. Love doesn't have anything to do with sex, as proven by the present divorce rate, latchkey children, single mothers, deadbeat fathers, and overpopulation problems," came Daiji's logical yet beside-the-point remark.
"Wow. You really went there, huh? That's nice." Itsumi bit her lip and blew the stray strand of dark brown hair in front of her face. "While that's fascinating and all, I don't like where this conversation is going, honey."
"Oh. Okay." Daiji drummed his fingers over his steering wheel as he abandoned thinking up a better route to their destination home in order to fix whatever it was that was irritating his significant other. "So you're pregnant. How did you know? Did you take a pregnancy test?"
Itsumi pouted as her eyes rolled up her head, which from the corner of Daiji's eyes looked like the body language for derision. However, the light tone of her voice and her deep dimples indicated to him that she was merely contemplating his inquiry. Another crisis was averted.
"Well, no. Not yet. I'm planning to take one this week. But I do have all the symptoms. Nausea. Morning sickness. Spotting. Cramps. Backaches. I do get tired a lot easier nowadays. My breasts are swollen too." She tilted her head over Daiji and blinked repeatedly. "What do you think? Are you excited in becoming a father?"
"Yes, Mistress," Daiji answered as he rifled through his memories for the appropriate response. So he smiled. It faded to his usual neutral expression after he felt his partner recoil from him and look away, her eyes staring straight at the road.
"I really am excited. As soon as you can confirm it, I'll be even more excited."
"Gee, I wonder what that would look like," she said as she put her elbow on the car door beside her and placed her hand under her chin.
What did he do to upset her this time?
After a couple of minutes of silence, she breathed in deeply, slapped her cheeks several times as though she were trying to wake herself up, and planted a wet kiss over Daiji's cheek.
"I guess this is as good as it gets, huh?" she surmised, and up until the present time, Daiji still couldn't understand what she meant by that.
"I hope I'm pregnant for real. I'm kind of scared about how good a mother I'll be. I'm terrified of natural childbirth. But you're here, so I know everything will be all right."
"Of course," said the pokerfaced Daiji as his mouth quirked into a smile without him forcing it to do so. Afterwards, everything became a blur.
A brown, second generation Mitsubishi Lancer blindsided the couple's Honda, causing it to spin out of control before smashing bumper-first into a nearby concrete utility pole.
Too many things happened at once. There was blood everywhere. The shatterproof glass did its job in keeping its shards in one place, the millions of spider web cracks turning the windshield dense and white. Daiji's back throbbed, and a splitting headache kept him from seeing straight. Blood was splashed everywhere. Itsumi was crying.
"Oh my god, oh my god, the baby! The baby! The baby! Our baby! What the hell hit us? That asshole! Honey, are you okay? Can you move?"
"Relax. We're going to get help. Everything's going to be all right. Remember, I'm here, It-chan. Like you said, I'm here for you. Relax, dear. Can you open the door?"
"Okay, okay. I'm fine. Are you all right? Do you have a concussion? I-I think I can go out. How can this happen? Please, please, please, let the baby be safe. Let all of us be safe."
The silhouette of a man with a fishing pole or curved broomstick on his side appeared with a flashlight or bright lamp; they couldn't tell which.
"Hello? Please help us! Did you see the car that ran us over?" Itsumi asked the stranger, not at all considering whether or not he was the one that hit them and sent their car spiraling out of control in the first place.
Before Itsumi could open the door all the way, a shaft of metal pierced through it, impaling her. It took a minute for even a quick study like Daiji to comprehend what had happened.
Daiji's pain receded as his brain went into overdrive in order to understand what it just witnessed. The long piece of metal retracted, and a fountain of blood exited the womb of his quickly paling wife.
"IT-CHAN!"
For the first time in a long while, he screamed, the emotions bubbling inside him... the feelings he wanted to convey to Itsumi but couldn't because of who he was... was let loose a little too late.
Sensations he could barely grasp or control and his wife's words repeating inside his head over and over pushed him to action despite the questionable state of his battered body.
"I think I'm pregnant with your child, Jiji-chan."
"But you're here, so I know everything will be all right."
"Please let the baby be safe. Let us all be safe."
For over five years since his killing spree made the news, the Kanji Killer completely eluded the police's grasp despite the fact that over seven of his confirmed victims were well-publicized by the media. There were even several suspected victims that date his killings all the way back to 1983 and all the way up to 1990.
It was only natural that comparisons between him and London's Jack the Ripper or North California's Zodiac Killer would surface. With Jack, the clinical grisliness of both murderers' actions remained at the forefront of discussion. With the Zodiac, the seeming infatuation that the Kanji Killer had for his predecessor's continuous mocking of the "Blue Meanies" or the police was an obvious point of resemblance.
However, the truly disturbing thing about the tattooed muscleman with a longsword and glowing scars... or, as some witnesses alleged, the living corpse with the complexion of ash, a pair of swords, and the smile of a dead horse... was the sheer amount of victims attributed to them after 1990 that left the police befuddled, troubled, and confused.
Thanks in part to the sensationalized nature of the Kanji Killer's murders as reported by the Japanese media... and he was a much more marketable psycho when compared to 1988's pedophilic Tsutomu "Otaku Murderer" Miyazaki... and the continued failure of the police to capture him, a wave of copycat crimes swept the country by storm.
Daiji suspected that the true Kanji Killer was able to kill in peace at the time after knowing that his murders served as trees that he could hide within the forest full of corpses that his admirers made in honor of him; his own Aokigahara, so to speak.
However, the fact that two people with the exact opposite descriptions utilized the exact same modus operandi when "randomly" attacking people disturbed the detective somewhat.
The inconsistencies between the two serial killers were as clear as day to Daiji, but many of his superiors waved the discrepancies off as a product of the Kanji Killer's insanity.
After insisting on being transferred from Ueno to Shinjuku back in 1991, Daiji followed that lead of his, which ultimately led him to separate one Kanji Killer from another. To be more specific, judging by the reports that cited a zombie-like Kanji Killer, that murderer was more of a thrill-seeker than the average criminal who preyed upon the weak for sport.
The thin man Kanji Killer with a ski mask of sorts that covered his ears and his neck, according to reports, could freeze his victims with one stare of his inky-black eyes, used two swords to slice them up like a machine, and, most importantly, he tended to attack cops, security guards, military personnel, and local tough guys to feed his bloodlust.
He was different from the Kanji Killer that Daiji met that fateful summer evening of 1989. The tall, over-muscled Kanji Killer was more in the mold of serial killers like Ted Bundy or, more appropriately, another copycat killer and admirer of the Zodiac Killer's handiwork, the so-called Copycat Zodiac Killer, also known as the Brooklyn Sniper and the New York Zodiac Killer who remained at large at the time.
The Kanji Killer that Daiji and Itsumi met was a sadist who pleasured or even empowered himself by inflicting pain on others and taking control of his victims like puppets; the man whom Daiji referred to as the "One-Eight-Ten Killer".
He also had no idea which of the two Kanji Killers came first, which was a real chicken-or-egg dilemma.
One other key difference between the Kanji Killer and the One-Eight-Ten Killer? The Kanji Killer rarely if ever killed women, and the women he killed were mostly collateral damage or potential witnesses he finished off for his own safety. In contrast, the One-Eight-Ten Killer made it a point to include women in his killings in either perverse delight or a strange desire to be an equal-opportunity murderer.
To Be Continued...
Next: Daiji's deduction.
If you haven't figured it out yet, let me spell it out for you. The "Chikyusei" or "Earth Club" is based on the Meiousei or Pluto Organization of the anime "Detective School Q". Even their shared modus operandi wherein they were represented by the zodiac sign of the planet they're named after as well as their quest to help their rich clients concoct diabolical and needlessly complex plans in order to get away with murder was intentionally similar.
Hindi ako papayag na maghari ang kasamaan sa daigdig!
Abdiel