Personally, EK is definitely and vehemently against war.
Those of you in my territory and have AXN, I suggest that you take some time and watch Rave. Yeah, I know, it's kinda weird and all. But pay close attention to Hal/Haru. He's an Enishi spinoff. He has a large sword, white hair, earring, neat pants (no glasses though)---and he has a cute older sister, that looks WAY too much like Tomoe! ^_^ Unfortunately, for all that he's a spinoff, his features and his basic personality is not a lot like the original white tiger. ^^
Speaking of Eni-chan……
………………………
Misao had shut the door behind her.
Once again, he was alone. Once again, he paced the floor.
Was it true, what he heard? Did Misao really say "I love you" in English to him? Were the beautiful jade eyes full of love, real? Did he not hear things in his head?
She loved him!
He could not believe it. She was not forced to say it, yet she did. She was not forced to go to Tokyo, but she did.
She was going to Tokyo, for him. For him!
But…….was he correct to risk everything on this one woman, feelings notwithstanding? What if something should happen to her? What if people came after her, in coming after him? What if they should---kill her?
What was happening?
This was unprecedented for Yukishiro Enishi, worrying about an informant and a messenger. There was a reason why every plan had a plan B. Especially in his former line of, business, if it could be called that, nothing was certain. Anyone could be caught by the police, or killed by rivals. It was part of the business, and every operation considered it. No one felt sorry for anyone who ran into trouble in the line of duty. He was simply replaced. Now he could not "simply replace" Misao. There were no more copies left of the documents he gave her. She was already the unexpected backup to a desperate plan. There was no plan after that.
He could only give everyone else, the impression of a Plan B. There really was no Plan B.
But so far, nobody had any solid evidence against him. He would keep it that way.
He took off the business clothes he had on, and took on the famous, or infamous, Chinese silk jacket. He loaded two pistols and hid them in the jacket. He then cocked his purple glasses over his nose.
He filed away any and all remaining business papers into his safe, glancing at each one for any he needed to tear apart. There were none. All legitimate documents for a legitimate business. He was irritated. What had he done that those government dogs did not do? Why did he have to face the law for something, for once, that he did not have a hand in?
He would not give them the satisfaction of triumph.
It was 9 o'clock when he left the office, as calmly as if he had spent an evening with late paperwork. He exited, prominently, by the front door.
He stopped by the large oak doors, and glanced at the bushes and nearby corner of the factory building. He quietly cocked one of his pistols.
"Makimachi has gone to Tokyo, Shinomori," he discreetly addressed the air around the front door. "You can observe the activity at midnight for all I care. You will find me at the mansion. Good evening." He then walked easily out the gates and into the street.
No one would dare touch him without a reason, he knew. He reached home without ceremony or event.
It was imperative to show, at least, an external appearance of calm. As he had learned in Shanghai, servants had ears to walls and doors, and eyes on windows and keyholes. Any sign of fear would get them suspicious, and make them more alert. So he ate his dinner as usual. He did not let on that his vegetables reminded him of a green frock, hundreds of miles away from him.
But he could not sleep. Her happy face would not leave his dreams. He did not know what was worse: not seeing his sister, or seeing his first love. At the times he did see his beloved sister, her smile did not comfort him. He was worried for someone alive. Hopefully, still alive, alive and well.
The next morning, dark glasses covered sleepless eyes.
All that day, he finished up all of his paperwork, fixed final business arrangements, established final organizational documents. He did not know what those dogs had in mind, but he would be prepared for them. He knew it was coming, and much of the tedious work had been done. It was only the last few things that he needed to settle.
One final thing he wrote. He already had the document notarized; it only had to be filled. This one was only in Japanese.
My name is Yukishiro Enishi. I have no direct living relations. In the event of my death, all documents related to my business are to be inherited by my associate. Everything else will be given to the family of Himura Kenshin, husband of my deceased sister. Himura is to freely assign whatever he deems appropriate to give to Makimachi Misao, I have no idea what she would ask or she would need. Absolutely no one else, aside from these three, are to benefit from my demise.
This was the most recent of several wills he had already written in his life. This however was the most official yet most personal of them all.
Yet the day proved uneventful. No news of her, and no signs of arrest. He had learned nothing new about the midnight exchange, whether it happened or not. His secretary was gone for the day. All was quiet. The day was calm, deadly calm.
It was late afternoon when he finished the short will. He closed his eyes for a few minutes, resting them from a long day of paperwork.
Enishi!
"Nee-san?"
Your friend is in danger!
"Who? Misao?"
You will be next!
"Wait, nee-san, what will happen to Misao?"
She and you are in danger!
"Wait, nee-san, what will happen? Nee-san!!"
He awoke with a start. Oh, no, how long had he been asleep? He stared sadly at the stars twinkling outside his office window. He had lowered his guard for quite a long time. He frantically checked through all his documents, and sighed with relief. They were all there, even the will. He kept them all and hid them in the safe.
Still, it helped to be cautious. He went straight home that evening, not deviating from his usual route.
He did not eat his dinner, and went to bed immediately.
He was about to fall asleep, when he saw his sister again.
Enishi!
"Nee-san! Please tell me, what happened to Misao?"
Evil has been done to her……..she had fallen to a long sleep….
"Details, nee-san, details!"
It was done by someone close to you…….watch your back, Enishi…..
"But what about Misao, nee-san?"
Take care of yourself, Enishi.
She was gone.
The sun rose from behind the mountains. So he had slept through the night, but he did not feel rested. He even felt more miserable this morning than yesterday. His sister had made vague comments about Misao being in trouble, but what could he do? He did not even know where she was right now! Did she make it to Tokyo? Did she encounter robbers or assassins along the way?
Just when he was finally assured of her love, would he never see her again?
Such was the question bothering Yukishiro Enishi that day. Employees admired his sense of style and composure amidst rumors in the factory of an internal smuggling ring. They never imagined the agitation hidden by his dark glasses. To them, it was business as usual. Their young manager was completely in control. They greeted him warmly as he left his managerial office that afternoon. He had waved a nonchalant hand at all of them in return.
It was now the second night after Misao left on a new mission. If all had gone according to his calculations, she should have found his brother-in-law already, and by tomorrow be on the way to his island hideout. Within three days she would be back, and he could tell his sister that she was wrong.
He ate his dinner, pondering what his sister had tried to tell her, but not knowing what they meant. He barely tasted what he was eating; it all mixed into one bland flavor, as his mind was occupied with his little friend, and more, miles away.
A servant appeared before him. "Sir, the police are at the front door. They say they want to ask a few questions."
That did not scare him. He was used to this. It was better to cooperate and appear innocent, than to act nervously and arouse suspicion. He presented himself before the unusually large number of policemen at his door. "You wanted to see me?" he asked with a disarming smile.
One of the men, one he knew to be a respected captain, stepped forward. "Shiroyuki-san, could you identify this purse?" He presented an ivy-green, Western-style purse for his perusal.
It was heavily stained with blood.
Imperceptibly, Enishi took a step backward and made a very slight gulp. "I recall giving such a purse to a lady friend of mine," he answered without being specific. "Where was it found?"
The officer ignored the question. "Was it you who placed the money inside the purse?"
"It depends," he smugly replied. "Where did you find the purse?" His heart pounded hard against his chest.
"An informant handed it to us. He found it in Tokyo."
"How? How did you know to come to me?" His hands began to sweat.
"The informant claims he has seen you before with a young woman, the one who was carrying this purse. She was described as petite, had long hair tied in a braid reaching to her waist, and was wearing a green foreign dress."
Enishi hid his shaking hands behind his back.
"And the young woman?"
"The informant found her dead, in an alley."
DEAD?!
Misao is dead?!
"She resisted arrest in Tokyo. She was shot by police, he claims."
He lost it. He could only look straight past the officer, past the police scattered around the garden, past Kyoto.
He only saw her, her beautiful eyes, her wonderful lips, saying the last words he would ever hear from her.
I…….love……..you.
"So you admit you sent her to Tokyo?" "Do you admit that you placed the money inside the purse?" "Do you admit that you sent her, as a messenger?" "Do you admit that she was to give the money to contacts in Tokyo?" "Do you admit that the money was for the weapons exchange two days ago?" "Do you admit to be the mastermind of the exchange?"
He said yes to everything.
He was asleep yet awake, dead yet alive. His eyes saw nothing. His ears heard nothing.
"Shiroyuki Shinichi, the city of Kyoto arrests you, for weapons smuggling."
He followed all orders, without knowing what they were.
She was dead. Only that was real. It was worse than when his sister died. Misao was dead by his own hand, by his own orders. She was dead, he did not know who killed her, he did not know exactly where. He was too far away from her to stop it.
If there was anyone he could exact revenge on, it was only himself. The realization knocked the life out of him.
If Makimachi Misao no longer existed, neither did Yukishiro Enishi.
White and black were no more.
He returned to reality, coming from the darkness of despair.
He found himself inside a dark place, a physical manifestation of the darkness in his soul. A prison cell. He was seated with his back to the wall. The drab prison bed had not been touched. He was wearing a simple shirt over tasteless trousers—traditional jail uniform.
His more rational self took over.
WHAT was he doing in jail? He had done nothing illegal in the last two years, he was absolutely certain. He had made efforts to prove that. He had even………sent Misao to Tokyo to prove it…………Misao……..
He stood up to think it over better.
"Finally. Welcome back to this world, Yukishiro."
He turned his eyes to the prison bars. He saw the dark uniform of his chief rival, his arms folded stiffly before his chest. "What more do you want, Shinomori?" he growled. "Makimachi is gone. Neither of us will have her now."
"Misao is alive, Yukishiro," the okashira simply stated.
"Stop lying to me. I could tell you what you dogs want to know, without playing your psychological games," he sneered. "I will get my hands on those who did this to her," he clenched a fist at him, "and if you are one of them, you will pay with your life."
He flicked a piece of paper at him. Then the okashira began to walk away. "I will come back tomorrow. I want you to be a little more reasonable then."
Stupid man, he snarled to himself, giving a defeated man false hopes. He saw the purse, he saw the blood, he heard the report.
She was not coming back to him.
Once again, he was lost in a place darker than his cell.
…………………..
Just in case I have scared anyone senseless, realize that this is another view of PREVIOUS events.
bittersweetKandy and for everyone else—That plot device is called post-traumatic amnesia, at least my version of it. It happens when some damage happens to your brain, usually because of an accident. The person forgets what happened before or during the accident. Depending on the kind of trauma, it can be temporary or permanent.
Thanks to Mi, Ro-chan, Firuze-nee-san, Anime-Angel-Goddess, and Sabbie for reviewing Singing in the Rain! The things I can make up when I don't want to write a report……. ^^
Thanks to tatsumaki, Chibi Washuu, and Ai who also reviewed Laundry Blues! Special thanks to Ai who also reviewed The case of the red robin, and placed me in the favorites list!
Sabbie—Thanks much! Your friend Elena is very talented to pull that off! I hope you do get in with your portfolio. Oh, you're a very very talented illustrator yourself! Thanks very much for the drawings! As for the onion comment, I got that from Shrek. "Ogres are like onions….." "Coz they're smelly?"from Donkey. "NO! LET ME FINISH---!" Then Shrek goes on to say that onions have many layers. I watched the movie last Saturday and got major laughs. I'll be getting back to Bart and Meia sometime next week. ^^
Tesuka-chan—I'll see what I can do with poor Shinichi-kun. ^^ Yes, that chapter WAS short. ^-^
JML—Sugoi! I get another review out of you! Arigatou gozaimasu! Sorry for the mistake, I honestly didn't know. Hope you keep reading and helping out!
Firuze-nee-san—Best of luck with your DSL account! Thanks for the offer to place White and Black at your site! Good points, btw, they might work their way into the next chapters.
Mi—Eventually, she will……..^^
Dragowolf—You're welcome. Thanks for still reading, that tells me you're in favor of the E/M movement even halfway! ^^
Chitchat—Please don't wait until White and Black is set and done to read Nine Months (You might have to wait another month! ^^). As I've said plenty of times, White and Black is only here because of Nine Months. Nine Months stands alone. I had an awfully long writer's block for the Nine Months chapter 15. Then a silly idea came up, and a lot of people liked it a lot—and that's why White and Black is here.
Ro-chan—Take it easy, my friend. She did not forget a lot. ^^ As to the getting-on, I still don't know what to do about that. Try White Tiger Jade Concubine. Now THAT's getting it on. ^^
Shadowfox—Arigatou gozaimasu. I have Firuze Khanume to thank for making Enishi so real to this unworthy writer. I'm a Filipino, unfortunately I can write loads better in English than in Pilipino. Comes with reading and watching too much English stuff. ^^
CardMistressSakura—I'm still not commenting. ^^ Thanks for reading!!
Tiian—Are you quite sure about Aoshi? (evil grin) ^_^ Thanks for the compliments.
That's everybody! Thanks again!