Chapter Eight
Late, late night in the Aoi had an effect on Misao that was, as far as she could tell, entirely unique to Aoshi's club. The last of the vampires had fled, now that the sun was about to rise. A few humans were left, all of them dizzy from blood loss. The smell of sweat and blood and alcohol permeated the air. Shira, Okon, and Omasu were in the back doing inventory, and Aoshi was upstairs, doing the books . . . Which left her to clean down the bar and, eventually, shoo out the remaining patrons.
This was a job she could live with. It was better than working the streets, and she regularly found herself in Aoshi's bed, about which she could find no reason to complain. The tips were good, the other girls were friendly enough, and she was guaranteed protection for the denizens of the Aoi - living and dead alike. The job did, of course, require turning a blind eye to some questionable things, but it was usually dark enough that she couldn't see clearly, anyway. Besides, she'd learned long ago that pointed ignorance became an art, living in Tokyo Haven. In general, she tended to think that she'd landed herself in a pretty good place.
One of the bouncers, Li, came in and ran a hand through his bleached hair. He made his way past the raised DJ's platform and approached the bar. Glass a water? he said.
Misao nodded, and got a bottle of water out of one of the refrigerators behind the bar. The real tap water in Tokyo Haven was hardly even worth washing dishes with. Aoshi didn't see the need of importing purified water into a tank, when they could just buy it bottled, so that was exactly what they did.
Li said, and Misao nodded again. He took a gulp of the cold water, and then another. Li smelled like relatively fresh air, and cigarettes, instead of the stale, dead air that mostly circulated inside the club. Sometimes, Misao was certain there was a particular scent that was just distinctly vampire.' She could smell it on her clothes when she went home at night. You want me t' chase the rest a these guys outta here? Li asked, taking another drink.
Sure, that'd be great, she said.
Once he'd finished his water, Li moved towards the four lax, black-clad forms lingering around the sofas and tables across the room. Sound of low conversation - Li's rough voice and the more indistinct voice of one of the patrons - floated across the dance floor. Misao did not listen as she finished wiping down the long bar, instead allowing her mind to wander.
The sound of the heavy back door banging open startled her to attention. Before she could really discern what was going on, there was the loud noise of a gun firing. Her eyes widened as Li dropped to the ground, limp. One of the human patrons screamed loudly, and received a bullet in the head as the gunman passed. There was a dull thud as she dropped to the ground.
In a little more time than it took her to jump the bar, the gunman was past the steel stairs that led up to Aoshi's office. What the fuck are d'you think you're doing?! Misao shrieked.
Without responding, the man continued to approach. The door to Aoshi's office burst open, and Misao could feel the fury radiating off the tall man. The stranger didn't even turn to look, just fired at Aoshi, who was making his way down the steep stairs, and continued towards the bar. Aoshi lurched from the impact, and he staggered backwards. Misao watched in horror as he lost his footing and fell down the remaining steps to lie still at the bottom of the stairs. She screamed.
By that time, the man was near the bar. She could see that his eyes were open, pale and empty. She could feel tears of rage welling in her own eyes. If this man had killed Aoshi . . .
Don't worry, the man said in a low, dry voice. His eyes did not move as he spoke, and he was not even looking at her. He's alive . . . He'll be on his feet soon. I just needed to get him out of the way for a moment.
You mother fucking bastard! she screamed, and rushed him. To her surprise, he didn't shoot.
Her surprise lasted only a moment. As soon as she was within arm's length, the man reached out and grabbed her, pulling her to his chest, his left arm tight around her neck. A thick smell, that of death and stunted decay, hit her, and she realized that the gunman was, in fact, a vampire. Again she screamed, this time in anger.
Her assailant laughed, a harsh, deep sound. For a moment, she struggled, but her her attempts to pry his cold arm away from her neck only made him tighten his grip. Then something caught her eye and she stopped moving.
Aoshi was slowly getting to his feet. Misao could see where he'd been shot - in the left shoulder, as evidenced by the dark stain blossoming on his trench coat there. He looked angry as he took his first steps towards them.
Don't come any closer, Aoshi Shinomori, said the vampire. Her entire body tensed as she felt the cold metal of his pistol press against her temple. Don't do it, Aoshi,' she thought. Keep coming. Come on.'
But Aoshi did not continue. He stopped, and stood still, his left shoulder drooping slightly under the dead weight of his arm. Who are you? His voice rang out clear across the empty club.
My name is Usui Uonuma.
What is your business with me? Aoshi asked. Misao could tell how tense Aoshi's entire body had become. At the first opportunity, Aoshi, she knew, would spring on this creature and rip it to shreds. And she would be glad when it happened. She had no love for its kind.
I'm here, he said, on behalf of the Gentleman.
Aoshi snarled. He has no reason to send his man into my club to kill and threaten my people.
Quite the contrary, I'm afraid, Uonuma replied calmly. You see, the problem is, he knows you're a traitor.
Fuck that. Aoshi's voice was low and dangerous.
You entered into a sort of unwritten partnership with the Gentleman years ago, Shinomori, said the vampire. He has been willing to allow such familiarity between our two groups. But he also knows that, in the end, humans are rats, and will eventually betray even their closest friends. It's only a matter of time, you see, and your time has come.
I don't know what you mean.
I'm sure you know that the Gentleman's Company doesn't like trouble from trash like you. You and yours, Shinomori, are hardly vermin in light of the Gentleman's grand scheme, but that doesn't mean you're below extermination. Now, you gave information to a member of the police force, and, if you want the girl to live, you won't deny it.
Misao's mind was racing. She couldn't imagine Aoshi turning against his patrons. He may have been a man of few scruples, but he knew better than to betray those who had been loyal to him and his club.
Aoshi's eye were hard when he next spoke. You mean Sagara.
Yes, that's the one. So you admit it?
said Aoshi coldly. I told him nothing about the Gentleman, or any of his people.
And I'm supposed to believe you? the vampire asked.
I told Sagara nothing. Believe it or not. That much is up to you.
Uonuma laughed, and Misao heard a metallic click. She could see Aoshi's eyes widen from across the room. The noise that followed was louder than any she had ever heard in all her life.
It seemed that things had slowed down once again. Back to business as usual, I guess,' Sagara thought, jamming his hands into his coat pockets. There was blood under his fingernails - vampire blood. He had no illusions that such a sight would offend the denizens of Tokyo Haven, but he felt the need to conceal his hands, all the same. His pistol was a weight in his shoulder holster, his long-bladed knife sheathed and strapped to his belt. Inside his coat, he had two sturdy, wooden stakes secreted away, ready to be freed for use at any moment. Both his gun and his knife came in second to those in terms of usefulness. In his current line of work, only a stake could really get the job done well.
He was heading home. He'd already made a stop at the police headquarters in order to deposit a black plastic garbage bag full of severed heads and to collect his pay. If he could claim nothing else, Sagara could honestly say thet he made no attempts at subtlety. He had already ascertained that his enemies recognized him on sight, as did his allies. And, in Tokyo Haven, those who weren't involved wisely turned a blind eye. Sagara was ready to go home and do some of his normal' work. He had a few unfilled munitions orders he needed to complete before the week was out, and tonight seemed the night to tie up his loose ends.
The sky above was dark, the clouds beginning to thicken across the sky. The moon was ringed with clouds and glowed a sickish yellow-red. The city was relatively quiet so late at night. Somewhere far off to his right, he could hear the scream of police sirens. It seemed ironic to him that there was a police force in Tokyo Haven, but no hospital, no fire department worth speaking of, and no Administration branch office. He supposed that even the idiots who had come to rule the world knew what sort of place Tokyo Haven was, and realized the best way to run it.
There was the rumble of a car approaching behind him. Sagara didn't bother turning around. He didn't know anyone in Tokyo Haven who would stop to talk to him on a night like this.
Oddly enough, the car did slow, and pull up alongside the curb. Sagara felt his fingers twitch, itching for the grip of his gun. Slowly, he turned to look at the car. It was a sleek, black convertible with tinted windows, which obviously did not belong in Tokyo Haven, home to all manner of black-market and junk yard cars. He stood still, and the car came to a stop.
As he watched, the passenger-side window slid down, revealing the driver. He found himself looking across the car into a pair of black-rimmed, purple eyes, framed by airy red bangs. Kenshin, who was wearing a black linen shirt and soft, black leather pants, smiled at him, his dark lips once again a wound-like contrast against his pale skin. It had been two weeks since his brush with Kenshin at the Aoi.
The redhead leaned his elbow on the bottom of the steering wheel, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. His vibrant eyes never left Sagara's as he asked, Wanna go for a ride?
Author's Notes:
Bountiful, jinormous thanks to Clarus. I ::heart:: you!
Also, gracious thank you's to people who are reviewing. It sounds like a public tevelision funding drive when I say it, but it's true: This fic is made possible by readers like you!
Sorry, this chapter is not! for Misao fans. I actually do like Misao (despite the fact that she got shafted in the voice-actress department in the dub). But that's OK. I like her. A lot. But she had to die. It's a lot vehicle. Nothing personal. (FarStrider, it's all your fault. Well, sorta.)
So, I threw in Usui. I'm really glad. I think Usui kicks ass, more so than most of the minor villains in the series, and especially a whole lot more than Shishio.
Ah - I should note that the next chapter will be a ¡sex! chapter. There is also plot, but not a great deal, so you won't be really effing confused if you don't read it. If you're not cool with that, don't freak out, cause it won't be posted on FFN, for obvious reasons. I don't know where it will be posted - probably with Clarus, some day, if she'll take it. This story is, currently, archived nowhere else . . . I don't think. Anyway. Eventually, you'll be able to email me for it, or something . . . But that probably won't be until the next-next chapter is up.
In any case - That's all for now!
Love and hugs,
! SnM