Here's the next chapter. I would like to say a special thank you to the 14 people who have already favourited the story and to the 13 followers. I hope you all enjoy the second chapter of this story.


Idknows - Thanks so much. I hope you'll find the next chapter just as interesting.

Guest - Thank you, I'm glad you liked it. This chapter will involve a couple of familiar faces, but I can't spoil them for you. Hope you'll like the next chapter.

wellingtonlucas282- No problem, I'm happy to see that you're reviewing this story as well. The argument with his mother was quite sad and...well... let's just say that (like all my OCs) Michael will have to face greater adversities. Hope you enjoy the next chapter.

Djinn - Hello again, thanks for reading this story as well. I quite agree and the First World War is a perfect example of it. It was awful and the worst thing was that it was a war with no purpose. Just a bunch of empires sending boys to an early death. The effects of the war will be a major enemy in Michael's story. Hope you enjoy the next chapter.

Thanks everyone for reviewing :)


Language Key:

English

Japanese

(I didn't do this last chapter, sorry.)


Chapter 2: Stranger In A Strange Land

The Hong Kong Hotel

Two Months Later

The voyage to Hong Kong was uneventful. Reginald had managed to get Michael a place on a mail ship that was heading to the Asian city harbour and frantically apologised that he couldn't get him on a better vessel. However, Michael didn't care if he had got him on a dreadnought or tea clipper, just as long as it left as soon as possible.

They set sail from Southampton, travelled around the Iberian Peninsula and through the familiar waters of the Mediterranean where they briefly stopped at Valletta, Malta. Michael had stopped at the beautiful island just before he was deployed in the Levant and spent the entire day sitting on the docks and trying to enjoy the sunny day. After that, they journeyed down the Suez Canal, crossed the Red and Arabian Seas and stopped at Bombay. Michael would have spent longer there, but civil unrest among the native population had forced the captain to leave much earlier then expected. They sailed across the Indian Ocean, stopped briefly at Singapore before they finally reached their destination at Hong Kong.

Reginald had booked him a room at the (rather unimaginatively named) Hong Kong Hotel in the Western district where he will remain in quarantine. There were only a few days left before quarantine ends and for him to take the final journey to Tokyo and Michael was sat at his writing desk looking out of his hotel window at the street below. Hong Kong, being a major harbour, had a quite a diverse population. The majority of the people he saw walk by were Asian, but ever so often he would see a person of European, Indian or even of African descent. Transporting goods from the docks, travelling to work, it was quite exciting to watch them go about their business.

A knock at his door snapped him out of his thoughts, making him jump in surprise.

"Err...yes!" he called out.

He wasn't allowed to answer the door or to let anybody in, so he had to call out to them.

"Mister Buchannan, I've come to check over your work," a male voice called out through the door.

Michael's eyes widened as he recognised the voice of Chen Ming-tun, his Japanese translator and tutor from the University of Hong Kong. He looked down at his book he had forgotten on his writing desk and cringed when he saw that he hadn't completed his assignment. He instantly picked up his pen and started to scribble all that he could remember about kanji.

"Oh right, one moment. I'm just getting dressed," he lied.

"...It's one in the afternoon," Chen replied in a sceptical tone.

Michael cleared his throat sheepishly, "Oh...well, when you're in quarantine, time becomes irrelevant," he called back as he was just about to finish his work, "How is the outside world anyway?" he said as he blew on the ink to dry it quicker.

He heard Chen hummed suspiciously, "Not too well, I'm afraid. The pandemic is getting worse with no signs of stopping and there are those who lost loved ones in the fire and the Happy Valley racecourse," he replied, earning a nervous gulp from Michael, "Are you finished dressing, Mister Buchannan?"

"Yes," Michael replied as he shut his book, put on a pair of leather gloves and wore a mask over his mouth, "Just putting on my mask and..." he grabbed his walking stick, limped to the door and swung it open, "...I'm here. Good afternoon, Mister Chen."

Chen Ming-tun was a tall, stern looking man in his late forties with short dark hair, slightly tanned skin and brown eyes. He wore a black western-style suit and his fedora was in his gloved hand. At his feet was a leather carpet bag and perched on his round nose was a small round spectacles to which he gazed down at Michael though.

"Good afternoon," Chen replied in fluent Japanese, "I hope you have been keeping to your work."

Michael cleared his throat, "I have...and I confident in...my speaking skills."

"It's 'I'm'" he corrected, "and what about you're writing?"

"...Well, I...I've tried my best," he said, handing him his workbook.

Chen opened his book and looked over it with a critical eye, "Fascinating," he uttered.

"Really...it's that...well?" Michael asked in surprise.

"Oh no, you're writing it's completely unintelligible," Chen dryly remarked, causing Michael to slump in defeat, "But it seems you are more capable of speaking the Japanese language in only short amount of time."

"I spent the journey here learning as much as possible from the books I brought," he admitted in English, "However, maybe I should give up on learning to write and embrace my functional illiteracy."

"Very well," Cheng said giving him back his book, "The company has also hired me as your guide to Tokyo, so please do not worry. Shall we continue your speaking lesson?"

Michael nodded and his tutor proceeded to get his material out of his leather bag. As he did that Michael's mind began to drift to the country he was about to be sailing off to soon. He didn't really know anything about them, other then the legendary tales like the samurai, and it was really starting to bother him. He glanced over at Chen and briefly wondered if he can tell him anything.

"Mister Chen, what are the Japanese like?" he asked curiously.

Chen made a sound between an annoyed grunt and a muttered swear word in response, causing Michael to think that he should have probably phrased his question better. Chen's family was originally from the island of Taiwan, but they fled to Shanghai when the Japanese took control in 1895. Fair to say that Chen Ming-tun didn't have the highest opinion of them.

But, like the professional that he was, he kept a neutral expression and flicked through his learning material, "The Japanese are...reserved, polite and very set in their traditions. I'm sure if Commodore Perry didn't force them to open their country to the world, then I doubt we will be traveling to Tokyo in our lifetimes."

"You sound as if you don't trust them," Michael pointed out.

"I'm just weary that's all. They are making leaps and bounds in industrial development," Chen sighed as he looked up from his notes, "I just hope they won't use it to expand their empire. Why do you ask?"

Michael hummed, "I'm just curious that's all," feeling slightly nervous now.

"Well, I wish I could be more helpful, but I never properly met them before."

"It's fine," he sighed before spotting a bellhop coming down the corridor, "Excuse me," he called out, making him stop, "I was wondering if you received any mail from London today."

The bellhop shook his head, "Sorry sir, but I don't recall receiving any today."

"Oh right..." Michael uttered in disappointment, "Thank you."

The bellhop bowed and continued his way down the corridor. Chen watched the exchange curiously before turning to Michael.

"Are you expecting a letter, Mister Buchannan?"

"Yes...I mean no...well, I don't know really," he admitted before he thought, 'I thought she would at least send a letter demanding me back to England." Michael took a deep breath and chased away that thought, "Why don't we start the lesson."


Tokyo Harbour

Two Weeks Later

Michael, with his suitcase in his hand, stepped off the gangway and onto the dock, looking over the city landscape. The harbour was abuzz as sailors and merchants transported their cargo to and from wooden warehouses. From small wooden fishing boats to larger iron cargo ships, the place was a hive of activity.

It wasn't until Chen tapped his shoulder, that he realised that he had been staring at the scenery too long and started to walk to dry land. He and Chen bobbed and weaved through the crowds, trying to find the representative of his father's company, who would take them straight to their hotel. Eventually, they spotted a tall, skinny man in his fifties with blond hair and a pencil moustache waving to them.

"Buchannan!" he called out as they made there way over to them, "Welcome to Tokyo. The name's William Brody, I'm one of the people overseeing the liquidation," he said giving Michael a firm handshake, causing him to cringe because of his injury, "How was the journey?"

"Long. Very long," he answered as William led them away from the docks.

"Indeed. However, I'm glad you are here. With Mister Buchannan gone, the company is losing money at an unnerving rate. We have a lot of assets we need to sell as quickly as possible," he told them before looking back with a sheepish smile, "I mean no disrespect to your father, of course."

Michael tried not to show his annoyance, "Of course not."

"Do you have a car ready for us?" Chen questioned.

William shook his head, "Unfortunately, the location is...unsuitable for motor cars. The streets are quite narrow, you see."

Chen's brow furrowed, "I hope you're not suggesting we walk. We're quite exhausted."

"O Heaven's no," William said leading them next to a warehouse, "You have been provided with adequate transportation."

He nodded his head down the street at a three seated rickshaw with red velvet seats and a fabric hood, the driver leaned on the side of the warehouse, waiting for them patiently. While Chen looked at the rickshaw in distain, while Michael's eyes widened in excitement. He had seen rickshaws in book and he had always wanted to ride in one. He was too busy to ride in one in Hong among and now he had a perfect opportunity.

"Brilliant," Michael said while Chen just muttered a curse word in mandarin.

Michael hobbled over to the rickshaw driver and bowed in greeting, "Hello...me...my name is Buchannan Michael."

The driver instantly sat up and responded with his own bow, "Hello, welcome to Tokyo. Would you like help with your bags?"

"We're fine, thank you," Chen sharply replied as he loaded his and Michael's suitcase onto the back of the rickshaw, "Just focus on driving," earning a glare from the Japanese man.

Michael gave him an apologetic look before climbing onto the cart in the far right seat. Chen took the middle seat and William to the far left seat. Once they were ready, the driver started to pull them through the bustling streets of Tokyo. Not long after they had set of, Chen cleared his throat and whispered to Michael in English.

"Be more careful around people like rickshaw drivers and lower class workers. Give them a chance and they'll steal anything of value."

"I don't have anything valuable."

"Then they'll rob you at knife point," Chen counted, earning a small, nervous chuckle from William.

"I assure you, we do not...well, did not employ any criminals," he told him, causing him to mutter something in Mandarin again.

While the two men discussed boring business stuff, Michael watched the scenery go by in interest. It was a lot different to London and Hong Kong. While Hong Kong was a blend of western and eastern architecture, Tokyo's buildings had two or three stories and made out of dark wood and plaster. They didn't have glass windows, but instead they were made of paper called shoji. Apparently, they used the same thing for doors and room dividers. Hanging on the houses were colourful paper lanterns with kanji written on them. They were all unlit because it was daylight, but Michael assumed that they light up the streets when they got darker. The people walking by mainly wore garments called yukatas with an obi, or belt, tied around the waist. Some of them looked up as the rickshaw travelled by and stared at Michael curiously. A group of children, who were playing in the street, stopped as they stared at him and his strange clothing in awe. He gave them a small wave and a friendly smile as he passed by which caused them to giggle in amusement,

However, as they travelled further into the city, the scenery became more familiar. The buildings grew bigger and were made of stone and concrete, there were street lamps, paved roads, an electrical grid and even a tramline. A lot of people still wore yukatas, but now he started to see some wearing suits and hats.

In all, it was amazing to see. There was no London smog, hardly any factories and no buildings completely destroyed.

'Of course, the only reason why I feel this way is because I'm excited to be in a new place. All urban centres have a dark side,' he thought as he caught sight of few children wearing rags and begging on the street, 'besides, I can't get distracted. I need to find my father...somehow. As soon as we get to the hotel, I'll sneak out and find his house and start off there. I don't know what I'll find, but it's somewhere I can start at.'

The rickshaw veered down a side road and instantly stopped outside a white stone building. He looked up to the sign above the doorway and frowned slightly when he saw that they didn't stop outside a hotel, but at the 'Ulster and Buchannan Ltd' Tokyo branch. The name of the company was written out in romanji underneath the English name. As soon as they stopped, William jumped out, payed the driver's fare and waved urgently for them to come in.

"Come, come," he said, almost pulling Michael out of the rickshaw, "We're going to be late."

"Late for what?" he asked managing to grab his luggage before he entered the office, building, "I thought we were going to the hotel," he said as Chen had to jog to catch up to them.

"No time for that, I'm afraid," William as he led them through the giant entrance hall and up an imperial staircase, "We have been postponing the meetings for too long. The board is getting impatient," he said turning right and up the second flight of stairs.

Michael was still trying to get up the first flight because of his injured leg and glared at William in annoyance. Not only did he didn't seem to care about how he was struggling to get some stairs, but also because he had just arrived and was already thrown into a meeting. With some help from Chen, Michael eventually made up to the second floor landing and followed William down a hallway and stopped at an oak door.

"Right, are you ready?" he asked, "Because negotiating with the Japanese is not for the feint of heart."

Michael stared at him in bewilderment, "What? No. I've never been in a business meeting before. I haven't prepared anything or know who I'm talking to. I don't even know what this company does."

William chuckled and patted his shoulder, "Do not worry, you don't have to do anything. Just nod when we you tell you to agree on something, shake your head when we tell you to disagree on something and sign and stamp any paper we put in front of you."

"So...I'm just a useless figurehead."

"Well, not useless, but yes a figurehead. Let the board do all the work for you."

Chen nodded as if what he said made total sense, "It's very unlikely that they will ask questions, but, if such an event occurs, I will be hear to translate for you."

Michael was starting to get nervous and agitated. The rough seas kept him up during the night, he was about to do important negotiations with people he doesn't know in a language he barely speaks, and they are treating him as nothing more then a symbolic object. Furthermore, his investigation to find his father has been severely hindered.

He gave a small sigh, 'There's nothing I can do. I might as well get it over with. Then tomorrow I will begin my investigation,' he looked up at William and nodded tiredly, "Alright, let's start the meeting."

"Excellent," William said as he reached for the door handle, "Try not to worry to much, you'll soon get used to it during the week."

"A week!" Michael exclaimed.

But before he couldn't question more, William swung the door open and pushed him into the room where he was met with the sight twenty men standing around a large conference table. They were all middle aged to elderly and all wore stuffy black suits and stern expressions on their faces. One one side were the Japanese business men who were looking to buy from the company while on the other were the English company owners. And right in the middle of the English side is an unoccupied seat which Michael could only assume was for him.

"Gentlemen," William introduced, "this is Michael Buchannan, the son of the late Edward Buchannan..."

"Late?" Michael uttered before he pushed to the unoccupied seat in the middle of the conference table.

"...And now that everybody is here. We can finally start the meeting," William said as he took his own seat.

Before he even knew it, they had already started negotiating. Michael was already completely lost among the humdrum speeches, the facts and figures, and the mutterings of disapproval. He looked back at Chen who had taken a seat just behind his chair, ready to provide him with any translations. However, once he spotted him, Chen pointed sharply back to the front as if ordering him to focus on the meeting.

Michael sighed, turned back in his seat and leaned on the backrest. He just knew that this was going to be a very, very long and boring week.


Six Days Later

The next few days were the most dull, mundane and boring in Michael's life.

Everyday he would get up at seven o'clock, rushed to the office, had to endure eight or nine hours of talks, agreements, disagreements and arguments, before being deposited back at the hotel. By then, he was so tired that he would sleep until he had to do it all over again. He did absolutely nothing of worth during the meetings. The business men would ignore him until they needed to him to sign something before they went back to ignoring him. Meanwhile, Michael just sat in his chair, staring down at the polished oak table and wishing he could be anywhere else. Chen didn't even allow him to take a book, because it would be considered rude. The irony of it was just as lethal as the boredom.

The worst thing was that he was witnessing all the work his father had built up for the past decade get torn down brick by brick and nail by nail. New buyers will come in, take what they wanted and leave without regarding what this company meant to him. Not once did they even consult Michael of how his father would feel or even consider Edward at all. They were like vultures, tearing his father's company apart just so they can make some money of off it. They acted like he was dead and not missing at all.

It was the middle of the say of the sixth day and the morning's negotiations were over. The next buyers were running late and so the business men were outside in the courtyard smoking, leaving only Michael and Chen. The Taiwanese man sighed, stood to his feet and looked down at a rather dishevelled Michael, doing his best not to collapse in exhaustion.

"Shall I get some tea for you, Mister Buchannan?"

Michael nodded, "That would be great, thank you."

Chen nodded and headed out the of conference room. As soon as the door shut behind him, Michael placed his face on the table and shut his eyes, feeling the cool table calm him down slightly.

'I hate this,' he thought bitterly, 'I'm useless at being soldier, a charity worker and now a business man. If I can't manage to stay awake during a simple meeting, then how can I possibly find my father. God, I can't do anything right!'

"A long day, I presume," a calm voice said.

Michael snapped his head up in shock. Before him, on the opposite side of the table was a man he never met before. He looked to be in his late twenties with short curly black hair, pale skin and blood red eyes. He wore an an outfit which consisted of an embroidered black tuxedo and a white tie over a black dress shirt and white dress trousers. His white fedora hat sat on the table to the side of him. He leaned his forearms on the table and knitted his fingers together in a relaxed manner. He smiled pleasantly at Michael giving off a friendly image.

However, for no understandable reason, all of Michael's instincts screamed at him to be afraid of this man. He did not know why; he looked fairly normal to him, friendly even. But something seemed...strange. Terrifyingly was as if there was some sort of monster or beast masked by his handsome features and cheerful smile. It was often that the worst monsters are the ones that can convince you not to be afraid of them.

However, Michael shook those thoughts away, 'I must be overworked or something,' he tried to convince himself, 'I mean I didn't even see him come in. He's just a normal...person. Nothing to be scared of.'

Still, there was one small part of him that didn't believe that at all.

"S-sorry," he stammered in his best Japanese, "You must be… next buyer…if you wait…a moment…owners will return-"

"Are you not Michael Buchannan? The son of Edward Buchannan," the man asked in perfect English.

"Y-yes I-"

"Then you're exactly the person I shall be doing business with," he interrupted again, "forgive our intrusion. My name is Kibutsuji Muzan, but please call me Muzan, and this is my assistant Mr Sato."

Michael blinked in confusion at who he was referring to before in jumped in surprise when he was noticed the second man standing by Muzan's side. He honestly had no idea how he didn't noticed the giant, hulking man, he hat to be at least eight foot tall. He wore a very long grey trench coat that managed to hide his muscular frame and a grey bowler hat pulled down over his face. The only part of Sato's face he could see was his square jaw and his pale skin. Sato was definitely intimidating, but somehow Muzan seemed much more dangerous.

Michael cleared his throat, "Err…good day, Mr Sato," he greeted nervously.

Sato didn't reply or even make a single move to acknowledge his greeting. Muzan chuckled lightly.

"Forgive him, he doesn't speak much," earning a timid nod from the teen, "I'm terribly sorry to hear of you father's disappearance. I take it that the police have found no leads."

"No, not yet," he sighed, slightly thankful that somebody cared of enough to ask, "Thank you for you're concern…did you know him."

"Not personally, but I suppose you can call us…business rivals. However, I have to say that you are the spitting image of him."

"I am?"

"Indeed," he said with an amused chuckle. However, Michael could have sworn his smile twitch slightly in anger, "Especially your eyes. They're are so identical. It's uncanny. Your eyes are…exactly… like… your father's"

A shiver travelled down Michael's spine as Muzan continued to glare at his eyes, inspecting them so closely that he didn't blink once. Eventually, Michael cleared his throat and looked away, snapping Muzan out of intense stare.

"You wanted to buy some of the company. Unfortunately, we already negotiated most of it already like err…" he looked around the table and saw the folder containing the property that was up for sell that William had left behind. He grabbed it and started looking through the papers, before reading out what had already been sold, "the shares and the… office building and the…railroad companies," he looked up at that, "that included the first steam train my father built in Japan. I think it's called the Mugan train or something on those lines," he looked down at the file again, "the only thing left is…my father's estate and all his possessions."

Muzan smiled, "Well, name you price for the estate."

Michael frowned in confusion, "Don't you want to know more about it? Like how many rooms? Or how big it is? Or even where it is?"

The man chuckled, "It's a respectable sized suburban house in the Hongo-Ku district with eight rooms, four on the ground floor and four on the first floor, measuring at 110 square meters" he said without a single hesitation, "name your price."

Michael gulped slightly and looked down at the papers, "The cost of the house is ¥20,000."

"Then I'll take it," Muzan instantly said, his personal stamp seemingly appearing his hand.

He hesitated slightly before sliding the paper over to him to which he stamped it promptly. Michael slid it back to himself, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the situation he was in. He decided to concentrate on the next possession.

"Right, well, I have a list here with all of my father's valuable possessions," he told him, "There are a collection of paintings by-"

"I'll take them," Muzan suddenly said, surprising Michael a little.

"Oh…that's…err…there is also a furniture set-"

"I'll take those as well."

"…a cabinet-"

"And that as well."

Michael gave the older man a strange look, "Mister Muzan, you mentioned that you were business rivals with my father; but you never said what that business is."

Muzan sighed through his nose, "I run an antique dealership. But I assure you I have sufficient funds."

Michael frowned at the answer, but decided he shouldn't question further. In honesty, he just wanted to get away from as soon as he can. He began going down the list of valuable possessions and Muzan bought all of them without a single hesitation. Some of them were especially expensive, but he barely batted an eye. He just patiently sat and stamped for everything that was up for offer.

That was until, he reached the last possession.

"…the last one," Michael sighed, "is a mahogany chest…with Japanese.-style carving…" he trailed off as he read more of the description, 'wait a minute. I know what this is.'


- Flashback 10 Years Ago -


Notting Hill, London

The attic door swung open and Edward Buchannan ushered his two boys, Henry and six year old Michael, into the room. Both Edward and Henry shared an excited grin as they carefully made their way to the back. Michael wasn't as enthusiastic as the male members of his family; he never liked coming up to the attic. It was to dark and he was the biggest fan of spiders. However, he went along with them despite his uncertainty.

"What is it, dad!?" Henry asked excitedly, "What do you want to show us!?"

Edward just chuckled, "Hold on, hold on. You two stay here while I'll go and retrieve it," he said before walking off through the cluttered attic.

Henry jumped up and down happily while Michael waited patiently.

"Mike! Mike!" Henry said, grabbing onto his brother's shoulders while still jumping, "What do you think dad's going to show us?"

"I don't know," Michael mumbled, "I don't think you should keep on jumping like that, you might go through the ceiling."

"Ha! That would be hilarious if I did go through the ceiling, right?"

"I think you might get hurt."

"Alright boys," their father called out, sounding like he was carrying something very heavy.

He soon appeared from the back of the attic holding a large dark wood chest and laid it before them. It was beautiful, with carefully carved patterns and images of cherry blossom trees, a zen garden and a Japanese woman wearing trading clothing crossing over a bridge. The two boys looked at the chest in awe, inspecting the designs intensely.

"This is amazing," Henry gasped, feeling the polished wood with his fingers.

Edward chuckled, "I know you two would like it. I bought this all the way from a market in Kyoto when I first visited Japan. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was special."

Michael looked over the chest and noticed something, "There's no lock."

"Ah!" Edward said as if he raised an important point, "That's why it's so special. You have to open it liked this."

He used both arms to reach down on either side of the chest and flicked two switches hidden underneath. The chest made a strange unlocking noise before the lid lifted up slightly, allowing somebody to get the fingers underneath it to lift it up.

"It's a secret lock," Edward told them, causing Henry to gasp in excitement, "but that's not the only reason why it's so special," he kneeled behind the chest with a wide grin, "This chest also contains the most precious treasure I own."

Michael's and Henry's eyes widened in shock. Their family was very wealthy and able to afford anything they desire, so to say that this was his most precious treasure must be very important.

"No way!" Henry cried, "What is it? Jewels? Gold? The world's biggest diamond?"

"I think the royal family owns the biggest diamond," Michael pointed out with a small sweat drop.

Henry frowned and hummed before his face brightened again, "Then it must contain the second biggest diamond in the world!"

Edward chuckled and patted Henry's head, "Why don't you ask me what it's in there," he suggested.

"What's in there?" Michael and Henry asked at the same time.

Their father grinned mischievously before closing the lid, making it automatically lock, "It's a secret. Can't tell you."

The boys groaned, "Why would you do that?" Michael muttered as their father laughed.

"Now, now," he said, "When you two are older, then you can know what's inside. But remember, you have to share it between you," he told them before he wore a sheepish expression, "Also, can you not tell you're mum about this. It was...quite expensive having it transported halfway around the world."

Henry turned his younger brother with an eager grin, "Mike, when we're old enough, let's open it together."

"But you're older than me. You would get to know before I do."

"Then I guess I have to wait," he told him, "I don't mind. As long as we do it together. Do you promise?" he asked, holding his hand out to him.

Michael looked down at his brother's hand for a few moments before he reached up and took it.

"I promise," he said before the brothers shook hands.


- Flashback End -


'He has it,' Michael realised, 'He has the chest…where he keeps the most precious treasure that he owns…and Henry would never know what was inside it,' he realised as the guilt made his heart sink in his chest.

Muzan cleared his throat, snapping him out of his thoughts. The pleasant smile on his face was still there, but he could tell that the man was getting impatient.

"You mentioned a mahogany chest. It sounds very lovely so I believe I will buy that as well," he said, raising his stamp, "It's been a pleasure doing business with you. I'm sure your father will be proud that you were able to raise so much money."

Michael stared at Muzan and his smile before looking down at paperwork for the chest. He glanced up at the stamp and then back down at the paper before him. Finally, he sighed and pulled the paperwork away from Muzan.

"I'm sorry Mister Muzan…but it's not for sale," he firmly told him.

As soon as he said that, the temperature in the room dropped without warning. Muzan maintained his friendly look, but, judging by how his left eyelid twitched slightly, he really didn't like what he said. Even Mister Sato flinched a little bit as if he was afraid that Muzan would attack him. However, Michael ignored the man's anger and stared back firmly, not a single doubt about his decision came to his mind. Eventually, Muzan cleared his throat and leaned closer over the table.

"My apologies," he coolly drawled, "I was under the impression that everything was for sale."

"It is, except for this one," Michael replied calmly.

"And how will your father's business partners feel when you won't sale this item?"

"Did you not say that I was the person you wanted to do business with?" Michael questioned.

The smiled wavered slightly on Muzan's face, "I suppose I did say I that," he hissed.

"Good. The chest doesn't belong to them, it belonged to my father and now it belongs to me. And I'm saying it's not for sale."

Muzan stared at him for a few seconds, his red eyes seemed to darken, "Clearly, the chest holds sentimental value to you, however, I doubt it has much in the way monetary value, so I would like to offer you quadruple the asking price and maybe you can use that money would be useful to start your little investigation," he suggested, causing Michael's eyes to widen in surprise, "That is why you really came here, wasn't it? So you can find your father. Well, I'm sure your father would want you to get rid of any material possessions and use the money for the greater good. So, let me take the chest of your hands and you are one step closer to finding him. How does that sound?"

Michael face soften slightly as he considered the offer. However, it didn't take him long for him to shake his head no.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm sure I can raise my own money for my investigation. I can always wire funds from London."

"And what if they reject your proposal."

"Then I'll raise the money in Japan."

"That would be difficult with the language barrier," Muzan pointed out.

"I'll learn it."

"And if you run out of money and go bankrupt, what will you do then?"

"I will sell my shoes and walk across Japan barefoot if I have to," Micheal argued soundly.

They both entered a stare off, neither willing to back down. If Michael actually tore his eyes away from Muzan's blood red eyes, he would have noticed that the man had changed. His fingernails have grown sharp and pointy and scratched the surface of the table, the veins on his face started to bulge, and his teeth were like a vicious animal. Muzan was morphing into something that was more beast than human, but Michael didn't care nor notice these changes.

"Sell me the chest," he demanded in a dark voice.

Michael leaned forward, "It's not for sale."

A deep growl came from Muzan's throat, "I can make your life very difficult for you, boy, so if you don't want to feel my wrath then you'll do what I say."

Michael slammed his fists on the table, his eyes were filled with absolutely fury, "People have been telling me what to do my entire life! I have to go to boarding school, shoot and kill the enemy soldier, don't do anything because I'm somehow going to fuck it up! I'm so sick and tired of it! Nobody has ever asked me what I wanted to do or how I feel about something!" he yelled at him, "But I'm not going to take it anymore! I know it's just a chest and I know it's not worth anything, but it belongs to me and my brother and I'm never going to give it up! I have made up my mind! It's! Not! For! Sale!"

A deadly silence fell over the room as they continued to glare fiercely at each other. Muzan looked as if he was going to slaughter Michael on the spot and he would have if it was anybody else who dared stood up to him. After a few tense moments, Muzan morphed back into his more human appearance and his polite smile returned onto his pale face.

"You really do have your father's eyes," he said with venom in his voice, "perhaps, I have been greedy with my spending. If you say it's not for sale, then who am I to disagree," he said as he and Michael slowly sat back in their chair, "my apologies, if I was...forceful in my negotiating. I'll make sure to send you a cheque for the other items I bought."

Michael nodded as he arranged the paperwork, "Right, thank you for you-Ah!" he cried out in pain.

When he was sorting out the papers, he had accidentally cut himself on his right index finger. Blood began to seep out of the cut and drip onto the table, making him put his finger in his mouth the stop the flow.

"Damn it," he muttered, moving the paper out of the way of the blood pool.

He was about to find something to clean it up when a loud thud made him stop. He looked up at where the noise had come from and his eyes fell on the quiet Mister Sato, who hadn't moved an inch during the entire meeting. He was about to ask what that was when he saw something fall from under Sato's bowler hat and onto the table, causing the same thud sound from before. He looked down and saw a pool of clear liquid where the thing fell. Knowing the substance and where it fell from, Michael could only assume one thing.

'That was saliva,' he thought, 'He's drooling at the sight of my blood.'

Sato looked like he was ready to leap over the table at him when Muzan shot him a deadly look. Sato instantly stopped and leaned back into his original position, shaking slightly under the gaze of his employer. Soon, Muzan turned back to Michael with his usual smile as if nothing had happened.

"Excuse him, he also has a medical condition," he looked over his bleeding finger, "Perhaps, you should get that dressed. We wouldn't want you to waste a single drop more," he said in a sinister tone.

Alarmed, Michael stood up and grabbed his cane, "I'll just go and find some bandages," he excused himself, making sure to wipe the blood off the table with his sleeve before he limped away.

Muzan watched him like a predator watches his prey until he fully closed the door, then the smile dropped into a cold, austere expression. Sato started to sweat nervously from under his hat as he was left in the same room with him.

"Master," Sato croaked in deep, gravelly voice, "I'm sorr-"

In a split second, Muzan had grabbed him by the throat and lifted him in the air. Sato cried out in surprise as he started to slowly crush his windpipe.

"You're sorry?" Muzan darkly said, "Do you know how much was at stake? You could have ruined everything. We do not how much Edward has told his sons about us. If he suspects us then we lose him. If we lose him then we lose Edward. If we lose Edward then I won't have the weapon. All because you couldn't keep you're disgusting mouth shut."

"But," Sato chocked and sputtered, "It...smelled...delicious."

Muzan tightened his grip on his throat, "You are so lucky that you still have a job to do. Otherwise, I would kill you this instant."

He released his grip, making Sato collapse to the ground and clutch at his throat as he began to cough violently. Muzan ignored him and headed to the window, making to sure to keep away from the sunlight.

"We will leave at sunset and go to Edward's house. We may not have got all of his possessions, but I hope that wouldn't matter too much," he told himself as he glared at the world outside.


Meanwhile, Michael hobbled down the stairs as fast as he can, not daring to look back at the conference room. He had no idea what had happened in that room, but all he wanted to do now is get as far away from Muzan as possible. He just made out down the stairs when somebody called out to him.

"Mister Buchannan," Chen said with a tray with a tea set and other confectionery balanced on it, "Where are you going?"

Michael stopped as his translator walked over, his breathing becoming laboured in panic, "I need to leave now. To my father's estate."

Chen raised a surprise eyebrow, "What? We have more meetings to-"

"I don't care about the meetings," Michael sharply interrupted, "The only thing to want to do now is visit his house and...is that a Milk Tray?" he asked, looking down at the tin of chocolates on the tray Chen was carrying, "Where did you get that? Can you buy Cadbury's chocolates here?"

"Actually, Mister Brody had them imported," Chen explained, "He says he rather enjoys them, but I'm sure he wouldn't miss one tin."

"I like them as well. My brother sent me a tin when I was-" he stopped himself, "Damn it, got distracted. I need a car to take me to the house," as he began to limp towards the exit.

However, Chen ran in front of him before he could get any further, "Mister Buchannan, I must advise you to return immediately. We still have more to-"

Michael snatched the tea trey out of his hands and dropped it on a nearby table, "Just do what I say!" he firmly ordered with a look that scared Chen.

The older man gulped and nodded before running outside to find transport. Michael sighed before glancing up at the hallway that led to the conference room.

He really hoped he didn't run into him anytime soon.

Michael tore his eyes away and began limping off to the exit...

...but not before grabbing the Cadbury's Milk Trey and tucking it under his arm.


Buchannan's Estate, Hongo-ku District

The taxi stopped outside a large, two storied wooden house in the district north of Tokyo. Edward must have liked the original design of the house, because very few changes have been made from any other houses in the neighbourhood like the white plaster walls, the curved roof and sliding windows. Michael betted that his father even kept the tatami mats for the floors.

As soon as the car stopped, Michael, followed by Chen, exited and stood outside the large house.

"Chen, do you mind asking the taxi driver to stay here until we return. He can keep the meter running, I'll pay for it."

"But-" Chen tried to say, but he had already limped away.

Michael walked around the zen garden, which was looking unkept because of Edward's absence, and made his way to the shoji door. However, much to his surprise, he saw that it was ajar. The first thought that came to mind was that a thief had entered and he should phone the police as soon as possible.

'How long will that take, though. Besides I still need to now if the chest is here.'

Frowning fiercely and gripping his cane firmly in his hand, he opened the door the rest of the way and crept inside.

While the exterior of the house looked like any other house in the area, the interior was definitely more European like the style of the furniture, art hanging on the wall, and even the radio perched on a small table on the far end of the living room. He moved as slowly and carefully inside, observing the room with a keen eye. Michael wondered if he should make his way to another room when a thought struck him.

'Wait, everything is here. Nothing has been stolen,' he pondered, looking around the room again, 'So, the thieves entered and didn't see of anything valuable or...' a chill ran down his spine as he thought of another reason, '...they are...still here.'

He tightened his grip on his cane as he looked around the room. His eyes drifted upwards to the ceiling and wondered if the intruders were upstairs hiding somewhere. However, it's not like they heard him from all the way down here. Although maybe the heard the taxi pull up in front of the house. He was about to move to the next room when he felt a strong breeze flow through the open door and hit his back.

Like most non-subterranean creatures, Michael was very aware what wind was and felt and would usually not think much of it. But this time it felt...strange. It was hard to describe, but the cold wind gently hit his back and flowed over him, curling and tumbling as it went. It drifted around his neck, through his hair and around his hands and fingers. It was both calming and urgent as if it was conveying a message or warning to him. For no apparent reason, the wind felt as if it was telling him something, directing him, supporting him to act out. It was a message that didn't use words or speech, but somehow Michael was able to understand as two words flashed through his mind:

Turn Around.

As quick as a flash, Michael held up his cane as if it was a weapon and swung it backwards at the danger to administer a devastating blow.

However, the victim stopped the cane before it can hit their head.

Turning fully around, Michael was able to get a better look at the person, but as soon as he did his eyes widened and his cheeks grew red at how pretty she was. She looked to be around his age with thick, unruly hair that went down her back, pale skin and dark blue eyes. She had a heart shaped face and wore stoic expression as regarded him. She wore a black uniform consisting of buttoned up shirt with a white framed collar, hakama trousers and a white belt in which she kept a katana in its sheath. Over this she wore a haori, a type of jacket usually worn over kimonos, that's spilt into two different patterns. The right side was solid red, and the left side was geometrically patterned with squares of green, orange, and yellow. She had caught his cane with her left hand just an inch from her head, but other then that neither of them did anything for a while until Michael snapped himself out of it and glared at the unknown woman.

"Who are you?" he asked in Japanese.

She raised an eyebrow, "Who are you?"

"This..." he pointed around him with his free hand, "...the house of my father. Who are you?" he asked again.

Her eyes widened a little bit, "You're Edward's son," she uttered, surprising him.

However, before he could ask any more questions, Chen appeared at the door. As soon as he caught sight of the mysterious woman, his face turned red in rage.

"Who the hell are you!?" he barked, "The is private property your trespassing! I have to right to call the authorities!"

She looked back at Chen with a disinterested look before releasing her hold on Michael's cane.

"I was just leaving. Pardon the intrusion," she calmly said as she bowed to them and made her way to the door.

However, Chen wouldn't let her go that easily and stood in her way, "You're not going anywhere, young lady! You're going to stay here and-"

"Let her go," Michael said, much to his surprise, "She didn't steal anything and she's leaving so there is no harm down,"

"No harm done!? She has a sword!" he said, pointing to the sheathed weapon at her hip.

"All the more reason to let her go."

"But-"

"Just let her leave," he demanded in firm voice.

Chen hesitated slightly, looking from Michael to the intruder. Eventually he sighed and stepped out of her way, allowing her to leave the building.

"And don't let me catch you here ever again!" Chen shouted at her, shaking her fist at her.

Michael watched her leave with interest look as Chen muttered something in Mandarin.

"Absolute no respect," he grumbled before he looked back at him, "This is what I meant by being careful. Thankfully, I had the foresight to come prepared."

He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out, much to Michael's horror, a pistol. To be precise, it was a 99mm Luger pistol, a semi-automatic gun that was commonly used by the German troops during the war. Michael backed away from the weapon.

"Where did you get that?"

"I brought it from Hong Kong for protection, but it's clear that you have more use for it," he explained handing him the gun.

Michael backed away again, "I'm not taking that."

"But Mister Buchannan, what happen if you get attacked again," Chen asked with a raised eyebrow, "You think you can fend anybody of with a cane."

"I hate guns," Michael muttered, "they're just-"

Chen sighed, "It's only for protection. Who knows who what other miscreants you'll face."

Michael's mind flashed back to his encounter with Muzan earlier. He seemed very eager to get everything. Maybe he was a yakuza boss and he'll send his men after him. Suddenly the idea of having a gun didn't seem so bad now.

Michael frowned and hesitantly took the gun from Chen. A satisfied smile spread across the older man's face.

"Good, now the way you use it-"

"I know how to shoot a gun," Michael dryly interrupted as he took out the magazine and inspected the bullets, "I may have used a Lee-Enfield, but all guns follow the same rules. You also shouldn't have it always loaded. I'm surprised you haven't already shot yourself."

The older man coughed uncomfortably as Michael removed the bullets, "I suppose you are more of an expert on firearms. Why did you want to come here?"

He slipped the pistol into his belt and covered it with his suit jacket, "I came to get something. I'll be back in a moment," he told him as he ventured into the house.

He found the stairs and slowly scaled them until he reached the upper floor. He searched every room. Rummaging through the miscellaneous objects, looking high and low until he found it. Right at the back of a wardrobe sat the chest that he fought for. It had been some time since he last saw it. There few scratches and scuff marks from lugging this to and from Japan and there was a small layer of dust. Not only that, but it smelled like it had been varnished with something very familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on what it could be. Despite that, it looked just as wonderful as the first his father showed it to him and his brother.

He lifted it out and placed it down on the floor, ignoring the pain in his arm as he did so. Reaching under the sides of the chest, he found the switches and flicked them. He heard the familiar thud of the mechanism unlocking and saw that the lid had popped open.

He slowly and shakily reached out to the underside of the lid, but didn't open it just yet. He had no idea what sort of precious treasure his father had left in here and a small part of him didn't want to find out.

'Henry should have been the one to open it. He also deserves to know,' he thought as he took a deep breath.

Gently, he lifted the lid and peered inside. In the chest was a collection of hundreds of different objects and trinkets and one large leather bound book. He picked up one of the objects, a small wooden boat that looked like it had been crudely whittled down from a large block. It looked like the maker had started to paint it a dark blue before giving up and etched their name on it. A name that said: Henry.

Confused, he picked up a painting that was clearly made by a child. A painting that had his own name on it. In fact, all the trinkets seemed to be either made by him or Henry. He decided to pick up the book and flicked the first page over to see a large photograph depicting a man and woman sitting on sofa with two babies on their knees. It took some time for him to realise that they were his parents, posing for the camera with what he assumed was he and Henry. He flicked over the next page and saw another photograph. This time it was his parent's wedding photo, both of them smiling brightly outside the church door. This was probably the first time he had ever seen his mother give a genuine, happy smile.

As he continued to flick through the photo album, Michael was overcome with a realisation.

"His most precious treasure...was us," he muttered out loud as a small smile spread across his lips, "Henry would have liked this."

The happy moment didn't last long as he prepared to put the book back and spotted a hole in the bottom, right in the corner. It didn't look like it was broken, but cut out intentionally. Michael reached down and put his index finger in it and soon found he could lift up the entire bottom of the chest.

'A false bottom?' Micheal thought in confusion as he lifted it up.

Underneath, there was a package about the size of a shoebox. It was wrapped up in brown paper and tied up in string. He picked up the package and started to unwrap it to reveal a heavy wooden box and a note. Michael decided to read the note first and unfolded it. It read:

My dearest son,

If you are reading this, then I have been discovered and have gone into hiding.

Do not try and track me down, do not find out who is hunting me and do not leave the house during the night. Inside the box is the very important. Too important in the wrong hands. Don't look inside it, just take the box and leave Japan forever. As far as you know, I am dead and do not need saving. If you are being hunted then use what's inside the box.

I know this may seem confusing, but the less you know, the more likely you are of surviving. Tell your mother that I am sorry and make sure to protect Michael.

I'm sorry.

Yours loving father.

Michael was overwhelmed with a number of emotions. Confusion, fear, worry and anger, was directed at the simple letter.

What's going on?

Who is hunting him?

Is he hurt?

Why can't you tell me?

He read the letter again, hoping to find some meaning in his words. This can't be all he has to say. He came all this way to find him and now he's telling him to go back, because of some unknown danger. Of course, he would try and help. Of course, he deserves to know what's going on. And there's no way he was going to simply accept that he was dead.

However, there was one last emotion Michael felt. An emotion that he regrets ever feeling as soon as he read the latter.

Sadness.

His father had obviously written the letter for Henry and not him.

Not for weak, useless, Michael. A person who can't do anything right in his life.

Of course, he hates that he was upset over something stupid and he tried to push it down. But the notion that even his father thinks he needed protecting stayed with him, burrowing into his heart and splitting it in twain.

His eyes wondered to the box he had set down on the floor and, after a few seconds of deliberation, picked it up and opened the lid.

Inside, placed on a velvet sheet to protect it, was a black and white revolver and six bullets. As far as murdering machines go, this one was beautifully designed. The grip was decorated in Japanese-style carvings on a white background depicting some sort of demon being slain by a warrior. The were also some kanji written to the side, but he was unable to read it. The cylinder and barrel were also elegantly decorated with cherry blossom petals and even more kanji.

He had seen these type of guns only in cowboy films, but even he knew that there was something different about it. For one thing, it was too heavy. Michael had to put a lot of effort into just lifting out of the box. Secondly, the barrel seemed much wider then an average revolver. Not only that, but the bullets were strange as well. They were longer and bigger and it didn't have a pointed end, but flat top like a shotgun shell. There was something very strange about it. It felt like held a greater power, but Michael couldn't think what it could be.

Before he inspect them any further, he heard the stairs creak from outside the room, signifying that Chen was coming up. Without a second to think, Michael strapped the empty revolver into his belt, poured the shells into his inside jacket and put back everything into the chest. As soon as he locked the lid, the door to the room slid open and Chen popped his head inside.

"Mister Buchannan, I must insist we leave now. We have already missed the meeting so we have to go in again tomorrow," he said in annoyance.

Michael shakily got to his feet and supported his weight on his cane, "So, we have the rest of the day free then. Well, I found what I needed. Do you mind carrying it to the taxi and we can go back to the hotel," he requested, tapping the chest with his cane.

Chen muttered angrily in his native language, but carried out his request.

While Chen carried the chest down the stairs and through the house, with Michael following behind, the young man began to think about what the note said.

'My father's in danger and he's gone into hiding. I have to know what happened. I don't care about the danger, I have to know. Although he told me to leave the country with the revolver...' he stopped suddenly, before thinking bitterly, "...No...he told Henry to leave. I have no part in all of this. So I guess, I'm free to investigate. But where should I start. I haven't found any leads,' he thought before he got an idea.

Chen had just loaded the chest into the car and turned to look back at a thoughtful, "Let's leave already. It's going to get dark soon."

Michael hummed and looked up at him, "Actually, change of plans. You carry onto the hotel. Make sure you keep that chest safe."

"I'm not your butler, Mister Buchannan," Chen grumbled.

Michael ignored him and looked up and down the deserted street. He hummed before limping over to the taxi, taking the tin of chocolates he left in the back seat before turning to driver.

"Do you... know...what direction...that girl went?" he asked the slightly baffled driver.


Ueno Station

The sun was setting when Michael found her sitting in the waiting room of a local train station. The taxi driver pointed towards Ueno park and after questioning random people and ages of limping around, a police officer saw a person matching his description entering the station. He had no idea how he was going to even what to ask her as he hobbled his way over to her.

She looked up at him as he got closer without a hint of emotion on her face before looking on straight ahead. Michael raised a curious eyebrow as he sat in the seat next to her.

"Hello..." he awkwardly started, "Sorry to interrupt-"

He had only blinked and suddenly she wasn't there anymore. Confused he looked around and spotted her a few seats away, staring straight ahead. Michael got up and limped towards her the chair next to her and started again.

"I'm not here to..."

He blinked again and she disappeared once more. This time she was seated much further away from him.

'How is she doing this?' he thought as he limped towards her once again and sat down for the third time.

"I'm injured. Can you...stop moving?" he asked her in slight irritation.

"Then maybe you should stop following me," she blandly responded, not even looking at him, "You wouldn't want to strain your leg further."

Michael hummed, "I need answers."

"I already apologised for my intrusion."

"You didn't...explained why... you were there."

"I don't need to explain anything."

Michael sighed in exhaustion, "You know...my father, don't you. Are you...trying...to find him like I...am?"

She turned her cold eyes to him, glaring sternly at him, "The less you know, the better chance of your survival."

He grumbled bitterly. That's the second time he heard that in less than a day. Clearly, she wasn't going to be any help and was about to take his leave, when he noticed something about her. The girl's eyes were no longer on him, but on the tin of chocolates in his lap. Michael had brought them along as he hadn't eaten anything all day, but now he could see her staring intently at it.

"Is that chocolate?" she asked.

"Yes," he said as she showed her the tin, "It's called a... Milk Tray. Introduced... a few years ago... it comes with different... types of chocolate."

Michael could have sworn her eyes sparkled slightly.

(A.N: Chocolate was first introduced to Japan in 1797, but, due to the lack of resources and foreign trade, it remained an expensive commodity that was only enjoyed by the extremely wealthy until the 20th century. Meanwhile in Britain, the industrial revolution, had allowed companies such as Fry's, Cadbury's and Rowntree's to mass produce chocolate and other confectionary, making it affordable to a wider range of consumers. In conclusion, I doubt Tomioka had ever eaten chocolate before.)

"Types?" she asked.

Michael smiled and nodded. She didn't do anything but stare at the tin in his hands. Curious, he moved the tin to the left.

Her eyes followed it as if she didn't want it to leave her sight.

He moved it to the right.

Her eyes followed it again.

He began moving it up and down and then in circles and still she watched it. If anybody happened to be watching them, they would think he was trying to hypnotise her. Eventually, he stopped and give it to her and she immediately opened it and ate the first chocolate she saw. She hummed in delight, a ghost of a smile appearing on her lips.

In honesty, Michael thought it was adorable.

"You can ask me five questions?" she told him, "However, I am allowed to veto any that are too private."

'That was easy,' he thought with a sweat drop before thinking of the first question, "What's you name?"

She glared at him, "You really want to waste your first question?"

"It means...I don't have to...keep...referring you as...'that girl'...so yes," Michael replied, making her roll her eyes.

"My name is Tomioka Giyu," she answered, putting an Orange Truffle into her mouth.

"Why were you...in the house of my father?"

"Looking for something," Tomioka answered stiffly, "I was also looking for him. He disappeared a few months ago and I want to know why."

As soon as she said that she was looking for something, the revolver flashed in his mind. Is that what she was looking for?

He cleared his throat, "And how do...you know...him?"

Tomioka stopped chewing for a second as she thought about her answer, "I work for an organisation and we've met a few times. He tutored me on a few things."

"What's your organisation?"

She didn't reply, making him assume that that question was off the table. He sighed miserably, 'Nobody is going to give me a straight answer today.'

"You're Henry, aren't you?" Tomioka asked suddenly, "Edward's son. He has told me about you."

Michael sighed wearily, "No...Henry is...dead and buried somewhere in northern Europe. I'm Michael...his other son."

She looked him over before turning back to her chocolates, "Sorry, he didn't mention you. I didn't know he had another son," she told him before she said in a softer tone, "I'm sorry about you brother."

Michael nodded gravely, "Thank you," he uttered, before asking his next question, "Have you...made any...discoveries yet?"

"No," she plainly replied, "What about you?"

"Nothing," he answered, opting to not tell her about the note or the revolver, "I knew he...left suddenly...judging...by the state...of...his house," he shook his head drearily, "But...I don't know...maybe he wanted to...abandon his family. I mean...he never spoke about me-"

"No," Tomioka suddenly said, "He may never have mentioned you, but Edward is not the sort of person to abandon anybody, whether they were his friends or his family. He's a good man and would never do anything irrationally at the expense of others. Have you considered maybe the reason he never mentioned you was because he wanted to protect you? Or did you automatically assume the worst in a person when they are not here to defend themselves?"

Michael was slightly taken back at this. He stammered a reply, but Tomioka had beat him to it.

"It is easy to be disheartened with a situation like this but there's a reason for his disappearance. And I'm determined to find out why," she muttered with determination clear in her eyes.

He blinked in surprise at what she said, not quite sure how to proceed.

'So he is in danger,' he thought to himself, 'That means that whatever is in that note must be real. I have to take the revolver out of the country. However as soon as it's safe, I'll come back and continue my search.'

However, before he could say anything else, a business man reading his newspaper sat in the seat across from them. What caught his attention was the front page of his newspaper which showed an image of Tokyo harbour. Underneath was the article in which he spotted the kanji for 'ship' and 'closure'.

He pointed at the front of the paper to Tomioka, "What...does it say?"

She glanced up from her tin of chocolates lazily, "It saying how they closing the ports tomorrow to restrict the spread of the influenza."

"What!" he shouted in alarm, "How long for?"

"Indefinitely," she replied, giving him a curious look, "It's been in the news all week. Have you not heard of it?"

"In business meetings...all week!" he cried as he slowly got up to his feet, "I need to leave," he bowed to her, "thank you, Tomioka. I hope we'll meet each other again," he said before limping to the exit.

Tomioka merely watched him leave and hummed, "If you are leaving the country then I doubt you'll see me again," she said to herself. She lifted her arm out in front of her and almost instantly a very old-looking crow landed on it, "Follow him. Make sure, he leaves safely," she ordered.

The crow cawed and disappeared as fast as it appeared. She hummed once again before turning back to her tin of chocolates. She was unaware of the other crow perched on a wall clock nearby who had been listening in on their conversation. The second crow cawed softly before it too disappeared without a trace.


Unknown Location

In a dark room, Muzan stood over Mr Sato, glaring fiercely down as the larger man bowed on his hands and knees at his feet. Sato was still wearing his trench coat and his bowler hat, but it was clear that he was trembling, deeply afraid of his master.

"Mr Sato, do you know why I requested your assistance?" Muzan asked darkly.

Sato gulped, "B-because of my tracking skills."

"No," Muzan hissed, "I requested you because of your resistance to the effects of Wisteria. So, I would expect someone of your talents would find a task like searching through a Edward's house as trivial," he said before his red eyes grew darker, "But still you disappoint me."

"Please Master," Sato begged, "I searched everywhere. I tore down the walls, destroyed the floors, broke open everything you bought today. But it wasn't there!" he cried.

"So, it was in the chest. That boy must have known all along," Muzan growled, "He's staying in the Imperial Hotel. Find the chest and retrieve the weapon, he cannot leave the country with it. And if you disappoint me again then might as well kill yourself. I have no use for such a worthless demon."

Sato gasped and bowed his head until he was pressing his forehead into the floor, "Thank you, master! You are most forgiving!" he cried before he asked, "And what should I do if the boy is there?"

Muzan hummed, "At first, I thought I should capture him alive, but now I don't feel as generous. Snap his neck, but make sure to not spill his blood. I still need it."

"Of course, master," Sato said as a psychotic smirk crossed his grey face.


Imperial Hotel

As soon as the elevator doors slid open, Michael shambled out into the corridor as quickly as possible. Chen's room was across the hall from his and as soon as he arrived, he rapt his fingers on the door.

"Mister Chen!" he called out, "We need to go now. They're closing the harbour tomorrow and so we need to leave now! We just need to make an excuse to the company and we'll explain in full as soon as we get back to a Hong Kong!"

There was no reply from the room and so he knocked again.

"Mister Chen!"

Still no reply.

'Is he asleep?' he thought as he took a step away from the door.

However, as soon as his laid his foot on, what he expected to be, a carpeted floor, but instead he heard a sickening splash sound. He slowly looked down and saw that his heel was submerged in a shallow puddle of blood.

He blinked in confusion, not quite comprehending what it was for a moment. But as soon as it dawned on him, he noticed something even more horrifying.

The blood was seeping from under the door of his room.

A crash and an animalistic cry of anger from the other side of the door made him jump in surprise. The mere sound of it made his blood run cold and his throat tight up.

"WHERE IS IT! WHERE IS IT!" the thing bellowed more things crashed inside his room.

Michael knew he should have run then, he needed to. But for some strange reason, he decided to ignore the rational side of him and reached out for the door handle.

Michael would always look back at this moment later in life. What would have happened if he didn't set foot in that room. What would have happened if he just ran and got the first ship back to Hong Kong. He would spend hours thinking back at it, thinking if things had gone a little differently then maybe the other events wouldn't happen. However if there's one thing he did know is that this was the moment his life went from depressingly normal to terrifyingly supernatural.

He pulled down the handle and swung open the door. The first thing he saw was the mangled and twisted remains of Cheng Ming-tun. His limbs and head were torn away from his torso and left floating in his own blood. His face stared blankly up at him, his mouth agape as if he was screaming in horror. Michael dares to tear his eyes away and look up at the thing standing over the smashed remains of the chest, his childhood memories laid strewn across the floor.

The thing was tall and muscular and its skin was disgustingly grey with black veins pulsating across its wide back. Its bottom half looked like a normal human pair of legs which wore a pair of black trousers. However, it had six muscular arms sprouting out from its bare torso, one underneath the other like a centipede or insect. His arms ended with vicious clawed hands that were coated in blood and his head was completely bald. The thing seemed to be breathing heavily, his broad torso going up and down as it glared down at the chest.

"It's not here!" the thing gasped, "Why isn't it here!?"

On instinct, Michael reached his hand down to the Luger pistol in his belt and pulled it out, keeping his eyes at the back of the monster's head.

"Master's going to kill me!" he wailed, it's top arms raising to grip the side of his head, "I failed him! I failed him!"

Michael slid the pistol clip he removed earlier out of his pocket and slide it into the gun.

"It's the boy's fault! It's his fault I failed him! I going to kill him! I gonna kill-"

Click!

The sound of the gun cocking made the monster stop in his tracks, his arms falling limply at its side. Michael raised the pistol at the back of his head as he snarled furiously.

"What...the fuck are you?" he growled.

The monster didn't respond for a second before it stood at its full height, stretching himself until he was twice the size of him. Slowly and sickeningly, he moved his head backwards further and further until his back was completely arched back so he stared at him upside down.

Ow he had a better look at the ugly thing in front of him. His mouth were stretched to the size of his head so he grinned a row is sharp blood-stained teeth. His eyes were golden and contrast to his grey skin and there was a patch of skin where his nose should be. Michael gulped at his took in his appearance, but he didn't show any fear in his expression.

"Well, well. Speak of the devil, huh," the thing cackled as its serpent tongue darted out of its mouth and licked his teeth, "You're just the human I need."

"Stay back!" Michael ordered, keeping the pistol at his forehead, "I asked...a question. What the hell are you?"

"Don't you recognise me?" he mocked, "I suppose it was rude of me to not introduce myself earlier at the meeting."

Michael eyebrows raised in realisation, "Mr Sato," he gasped.

"That's right," Sato said as he took a step back towards him.

"I said get back!" he shouted, "I know how...use this...and I don't mind... killing something like you."

Sato's eyes drifted down to the pistol in his hands and stepped away in slight fear, "That can't be it. That's too small."

"Maybe small...but it is powerful," Michael said, "I have had...long day and I...have run out of patience. You killed Chen, you destroyed my...father's treasure and I...assume you were the danger...I was warned about," he finger gripped the trigger tightly, earning a worried look from Sato, "You know what...I don't care about...the answers. All I want to do...is to kill you."

Sato's eyes widened, "No please-"

BANG!

Michael pulled the trigger and fired the pistol right at his forehead. Sato stared blankly at him as a dribble of blood poured out of the bullet hole and drip onto the floor.

Nothing happened for a few seconds as Michael waited for the hulking creature to slump to the floor, but, to his astonishment, it different happen. Instead, the hole in his head slowly closed itself up until there was no evidence of it except for the small amount of blood. Sato raised a hand and felt where the bullet had penetrated before grinning maniacally.

"A trick, huh? That was stupid," he chuckled as he stepped backwards towards him.

Michael stared at him in disbelief, but didn't lower the gun, "Right, so a bullet in the brain can't kill you," he said to himself, "I guess I'll do the next best thing."

He aimed the gun again and fired two rounds, one in each of Sato's eye, causing him to squeal in pain and clutch his eyes with his upper arms.

"YOU STUPID BRAT!" he screeched as he fell to the floor, quivering in agony, "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

However, Michael had already darted out of the room and ran as fast as he could down the hallway to the elevator. He saw some the other guests of their floor open their doors and poke their heads in the hallway.

"Get back inside!" Michael yelled at them, "Get back inside and lock the doors!"

Once they all saw the pistol in his hand, the guests immediately slammed their doors and locked themselves in, no doubt some of them were already calling the police. But Michael had to worry about that later as he limped to the elevator and pressed the call button. However, a feral roar rang out from his room and Sato leapt out with newly healed eyes. He crawled on all six of his hands and feet and quickly pursued him with murderous intent.

Michael cursed and decided to take the staircase instead of the elevator. But he barely made it halfway down the first flight when he was knocked off his feet by Sato's powerful arm and over the side of the bannister, crashing awkwardly on the next flight down. He heard a loud snapping sound and instantly his body burned in intense pain as his leg and several ribs were shattered by the fall. He cried out in pain and felt himself starting to pass out, but he knew if he stopped he would be dead.

Instead, he dragged himself down the rest of the stairs with one arm and moved so his back was leaning against the hallway wall opposite the stairs. He looked down at his leg and almost vomited when he saw it bend in a way that should be impossible. He tore his eyes away from it and looked around for the pistol, but it must have dropped further down the staircase when he fell.

He could hear Sato coming down the stairs after him, leaving him with no choice. He pulled out the revolver out of his belt which, miraculously, didn't fall out as he fell as well. He reached into his pocket and pulled out one bullet. He then slotted into the barrel, clipped the gun back into place, pulled back the hammer and held it up at the stairs, waiting for Sato to crawl down.

'If the pistol didn't work, then what use is this thing,' he thought to himself, 'I have to buy me some time until the police arrive. If this doesn't work then...'

He trailed off as he saw the frightening sight of Sato crawling around the corner as if he was some sort of insect. His tongue flickered out of his mouth as he slowly made his way down, drawing out to add to Michael's torture. His golden eyes flicked down at the revolver pointed at his face, causing him to chuckle.

"Another toy. Don't make me laugh," he mocked as he used his middle and lower arms to hold his head up like a cobra ready to strike, "Those last two shots hurt, you know. My master said to only snap your neck, but I think you deserve a worse punishment," he said as he raised his arm above his head, his claws poised and ready to come down on him.

Michael's eyes widened in fear. There was no way of getting out of this. He was going to die...

...away from his home...

...with no family...

...murdered by this monster.

The only thing he could do is rest the revolver to Sato's head, but he was too scared to pull the trigger. There was nothing that the weak, useless, little boy could do.

'At least I will be with Henry,' he thought.

And suddenly the claws came swooping down on his face. The image of the sharp claws will be last thing he will ever see in his life.

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

On instinct, Michael pulled the trigger.


And I'm going to leave on that cliff hanger. Hope you enjoyed the second chapter.

So we met some familiar faces and I didn't mention this earlier but I gender-swapped Tomioka. This, of course, is not a criticism of the original work. (Male) Tomioka is one of my favourite characters with a very interesting back story. However, I did this for three reasons: 1) I felt that the demon slayer corps needed more female members. Mitsuri Kanroji and Shinobu Kocho are great but (fem) Tomioka can bring something that the table that the other two can't in terms of focus and determination. 2) I would love to see the relationship between the OC and Tomioka and how they can learn from each other and 3)...I may or may not...have a thing for female kuuderes like Shoko Todoroki.

Sorry, if Michael's Japanese was weird to read. I tried to convey what a person who had recently learned a new language would speak.

Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll see you next time.

Thanks :)