More haiku --
You all know the drill:
The characters are not mine;
Read and review, please!
^_^
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kenshin didn't know where he was. The guard sitting in the back of the police wagon with him had inexplicably blindfolded Kenshin when they'd reached their destination, and had wordlessly steered him into a building. From what Kenshin could gather through his other senses, the structure he was in was large and made of stone, surrounded by an expansive courtyard - in the front, anyway. After several minutes of being forcibly navigated through long corridors, Kenshin was finally brought into a room and made to stand in one spot. Only then was the blindfold removed.
Blinking, Kenshin found himself standing before a wooden Western-style table, behind which Fushiyuuki sat, reading what appeared to be a handwritten letter. Kenshin recognized the document, which he'd witnessed Katsu write the night before; it was a fabricated testimony detailing Kenshin's alleged attempt to destroy the Department of Internal Affairs.
"Please excuse the secretive method of your arrival, Himura-san," Fushiyuuki said, his eyes skittering over the dark kanji on the paper before him. "It's just that we find the prisoners are less likely to attempt an escape if they aren't able to see any of the complex besides their cell."
"Where am I?" Kenshin asked.
"I'm afraid I'm not at the liberty to tell you that." {Author's translation: too lazy to research the history of Japan's **cough** penal system ^_^;;} Fushiyuuki looked up and smiled unpleasantly. "But I can tell you that it's one of the highest-security prisons in Japan. I suppose you could call it the Chateau d'If of Japan."
Kenshin gave his subjugator a blank look.
"Have you ever read The Count of Monte Cristo, Himura-san?"
"No."
"I must say that I am quite a fan of foreign literature, and that book is one of my favorites. We can't let you read it though; it might give you the wrong ideas." Fushiyuuki laughed as if he'd made some exquisite joke, though Kenshin didn't understand what was so funny. "But enough of this idle chatter," Fushiyuuki said finally. "The reason we brought you here was to ask a few more questions of you - to make sure we have all the facts straight, you see."
Interrogation didn't frighten Kenshin in the least, for he'd taken the time to memorize every word of Katsu's "testimony." Of course, he'd have to change the wording around so it didn't sound like he was recalling a prewritten script from memory, but that would be easy enough. What would be difficult was making sure Fushiyuuki didn't loose his temper. He knew that if Fushiyuuki were content with Kenshin's self-confession, then he wouldn't even bother with this facade of a questioning - he'd just take Kenshin's word for it and throw him in jail. Fushiyuuki was looking for something from Kenshin - a slip-up? An inconsistency in his story? - though why still eluded the former assassin.
Throughout the questioning, he watched both Fushiyuuki and the guard who brought him in carefully for clues. However, the guard - an outstandingly boring man with a bland, unremarkable face and inscrutable features - remained unwaveringly impassive until Kenshin eventually ignored him altogether and focused entirely on Fushiyuuki. What he saw was not comforting.
Though Kenshin remained as guardedly polite as possible considering the circumstances, he was somewhat worried to see that the short policeman grew increasingly irritated with each answer Kenshin gave. Actually, it was a little amusing because Kenshin could roughly gauge how angry Fushiyuuki was by how much a large vein just visible beneath his sparse black hair popped out. When it seemed he was on the verge of giving himself an aneurysm, Fushiyuuki slammed his hands on the table and snarled angrily, "Do you think you can outwit me?!"
Kenshin's feet and legs ached from standing stock-still on the cold stone floor and he was on the verge of laughing hysterically from stress and the ridiculous sight of this short man snorting and flaring up with rage, but he managed to remain unruffled. "No sir, that I do not."
Fushiyuuki glared at Kenshin for a few more moments, but suddenly he regained his composure; the vein on his head subsided. "No, of course not. Even if you did think so, it wouldn't be true - otherwise you wouldn't standing before me right now."
Kenshin blinked once in reply.
The policeman grinned, enjoying himself quite thoroughly. "After all, how can you protect your friends when you're in Japan's maximum-security prison?"
Immediately Kenshin's heart leapt into his throat. Oh god... he's - He mentally slapped himself. No, don't panic. He can't do anything. Saito will protect Kaoru and the others, remember? Kenshin grabbed tight of this notion and didn't let go, letting it slow his racing heart and smooth his temporarily frayed thoughts. He shouldn't let himself get frazzled like that, it would only make things more difficult -
"Namaka!" Fushiyuuki barked suddenly.
"Sir?" the guard that Kenshin had ignored until now said; it was the first word he'd spoken since Kenshin had seen him.
Adopting a conspiratorial air that made Kenshin shiver, Fushiyuuki said, "You saw that pretty girl who was so terribly distressed when we arrested Himura-san, didn't you?"
What is he getting at? Kenshin thought.
"Yes sir."
Fushiyuuki grinned, terribly reminiscent of a hungry wolf. "I'll bet you'd like to find out what she tastes like, wouldn't you?"
"Yes sir." Namaka answered in the same deadpan tone as he had before, but the effect was the same.
He wouldn't... Kenshin gritted his teeth so hard it made his head throb. Ignore him. He's just trying to anger you.
"Yes..." Fushiyuuki rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I think I'd like to have a go at her as well. My wife has gotten rather boring as of late." He looked at Kenshin, that awful smile still plastered across his face. "We could tell you all about it when we get back, Himura-san. How would you like that?"
A red mist was beginning to cloud Kenshin's vision, and his hands began to twitch spasmodically of their own accord. He clenched them into fists to stop the trembling. Don't listen to him... Saito will protect Kaoru... It was getting harder and harder to listen to reason...
"And what about that Sagara guy you were so willing to take the blame for, Himura-san? What horribly unfortunate accident will befall him?"
Namaka blinked a few times, the only suggestion that he was thinking at all. "Yakuza, sir."
"Excuse me?" Fushiyuuki asked, genuinely surprised that his underling had spoken without being prompted first.
"Sagara was once a hit man for hire. He earned quite a reputation for himself. No doubt there are several yakuza who are anxious for revenge against him."
Fushiyuuki laughed. "You don't speak much, Namaka, but when you do it's always something valuable." He stared off into the distance, as if seeing some grand vision. "I can see the headlines now: 'Dismembered Body Found in Tokyo Bay,' or perhaps, 'Gruesome Death Attributed to Yakuza.'" Fushiyuuki winked conspiratorially at Kenshin. "Men all across Tokyo will be crossing their legs a little higher when they finish reading that article." He laughed at his own divine wit.
Kenshin knew he shouldn't have done what he did next, but in that instant he literally lost control. Uttering a visceral roar of pure rage, he lunged at Fushiyuuki. How dare the bastard threaten his friends! He was going to rip that son of a bitch's throat out -
Suddenly, Kenshin found himself on the ground, gasping for air. He knew what had happened - he'd been hit in the solar plexus - but that did not make it any easier to breathe, nor did it lessen the shock at the speed in which Namaka had attacked. This unremarkable man, with a face so dull you'd wonder if there was anything unique about him at all, moved at a speed which was impressive even by the high standards of Hiten mitsurugi-ryu. Clearly Kenshin had underestimated him.
Fushiyuuki looked down disdainfully as Kenshin struggled for oxygen. "You see, Himura," he said, "I made a proposition to you - a fair one, might I add. And yet you insult my intelligence by trying to fool me with this pathetic facade?"
"......"
Taking the forged testimony, Fushiyuuki crumpled it in his fist and angrily tossed it aside. "I will make you suffer for this insult, Himura." He stepped over Kenshin's prone form (he'd since regained control of his breathing but was unsure whether to try and stand) and said to Namaka, "I do believe Himura tried to attack an officer. Please deal out the punishment accordingly."
"Yes sir."
The first blows landed before Fushiyuuki even left the room. All will to fight back having left him, Kenshin brought his still-shackled hands up instinctively to protect his face, but this only left his stomach open to attack. When he curled protectively around his stomach, Namaka kicked him in the back. The policeman was unyielding and showed no mercy; it was as if he was hitting a sack of rice.
Finally, Kenshin was hauled to his feet and half-dragged from the room. As he was led down the passageways, he couldn't help but focus on the smallest, most trivial of details. For example, he noticed that on ever third stride Namaka would step squarely on a seam between two stones in the floor. He was utterly fascinated by the shadows cast by the kerosene lamps on the walls, and for two full minutes he pondered the tickling feeling of the blood from his nose running down his chin. This was a defense mechanism; focus on the trivial in the hopes of forgetting more disturbing thoughts or, as in this case, physical and emotional pain. It didn't work too well.
As Kenshin was shoved into his small cell and the heavy iron door was closed behind him, he suddenly noticed that he was still without one of his socks. This was indescribably funny for some bizarre reason, and he probably would have started laughing uncontrollably if his face didn't hurt so much. So instead he stopped his bleeding nose with one hand - thank god nothing was broken - and sat on the narrow wooden bench bolted to the far wall, trying to comfort himself with the knowledge that Saito would use all his skills to protect Kaoru, Yahiko, Megumi and the others, and that Sano wasn't anything near a pushover either. They'd be able to take care of themselves. At least... Kenshin hoped they would.
He rested his head against the damp stone wall, pulled his hand away and examined the blood that had leaked onto his fingers. He sniffed once experimentally and was met with a metallic taste in the back of his throat. Despite himself, a half-smile flickered briefly across his face. His friends had always chastised him for trying to take all the world's problems on his shoulders. Now he couldn't do a thing about even his own problems, though he doubted they were very happy with the change.
There was just no pleasing some people.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Har-dee-har-harr... that wasn't very funny.
You all know the drill:
The characters are not mine;
Read and review, please!
^_^
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kenshin didn't know where he was. The guard sitting in the back of the police wagon with him had inexplicably blindfolded Kenshin when they'd reached their destination, and had wordlessly steered him into a building. From what Kenshin could gather through his other senses, the structure he was in was large and made of stone, surrounded by an expansive courtyard - in the front, anyway. After several minutes of being forcibly navigated through long corridors, Kenshin was finally brought into a room and made to stand in one spot. Only then was the blindfold removed.
Blinking, Kenshin found himself standing before a wooden Western-style table, behind which Fushiyuuki sat, reading what appeared to be a handwritten letter. Kenshin recognized the document, which he'd witnessed Katsu write the night before; it was a fabricated testimony detailing Kenshin's alleged attempt to destroy the Department of Internal Affairs.
"Please excuse the secretive method of your arrival, Himura-san," Fushiyuuki said, his eyes skittering over the dark kanji on the paper before him. "It's just that we find the prisoners are less likely to attempt an escape if they aren't able to see any of the complex besides their cell."
"Where am I?" Kenshin asked.
"I'm afraid I'm not at the liberty to tell you that." {Author's translation: too lazy to research the history of Japan's **cough** penal system ^_^;;} Fushiyuuki looked up and smiled unpleasantly. "But I can tell you that it's one of the highest-security prisons in Japan. I suppose you could call it the Chateau d'If of Japan."
Kenshin gave his subjugator a blank look.
"Have you ever read The Count of Monte Cristo, Himura-san?"
"No."
"I must say that I am quite a fan of foreign literature, and that book is one of my favorites. We can't let you read it though; it might give you the wrong ideas." Fushiyuuki laughed as if he'd made some exquisite joke, though Kenshin didn't understand what was so funny. "But enough of this idle chatter," Fushiyuuki said finally. "The reason we brought you here was to ask a few more questions of you - to make sure we have all the facts straight, you see."
Interrogation didn't frighten Kenshin in the least, for he'd taken the time to memorize every word of Katsu's "testimony." Of course, he'd have to change the wording around so it didn't sound like he was recalling a prewritten script from memory, but that would be easy enough. What would be difficult was making sure Fushiyuuki didn't loose his temper. He knew that if Fushiyuuki were content with Kenshin's self-confession, then he wouldn't even bother with this facade of a questioning - he'd just take Kenshin's word for it and throw him in jail. Fushiyuuki was looking for something from Kenshin - a slip-up? An inconsistency in his story? - though why still eluded the former assassin.
Throughout the questioning, he watched both Fushiyuuki and the guard who brought him in carefully for clues. However, the guard - an outstandingly boring man with a bland, unremarkable face and inscrutable features - remained unwaveringly impassive until Kenshin eventually ignored him altogether and focused entirely on Fushiyuuki. What he saw was not comforting.
Though Kenshin remained as guardedly polite as possible considering the circumstances, he was somewhat worried to see that the short policeman grew increasingly irritated with each answer Kenshin gave. Actually, it was a little amusing because Kenshin could roughly gauge how angry Fushiyuuki was by how much a large vein just visible beneath his sparse black hair popped out. When it seemed he was on the verge of giving himself an aneurysm, Fushiyuuki slammed his hands on the table and snarled angrily, "Do you think you can outwit me?!"
Kenshin's feet and legs ached from standing stock-still on the cold stone floor and he was on the verge of laughing hysterically from stress and the ridiculous sight of this short man snorting and flaring up with rage, but he managed to remain unruffled. "No sir, that I do not."
Fushiyuuki glared at Kenshin for a few more moments, but suddenly he regained his composure; the vein on his head subsided. "No, of course not. Even if you did think so, it wouldn't be true - otherwise you wouldn't standing before me right now."
Kenshin blinked once in reply.
The policeman grinned, enjoying himself quite thoroughly. "After all, how can you protect your friends when you're in Japan's maximum-security prison?"
Immediately Kenshin's heart leapt into his throat. Oh god... he's - He mentally slapped himself. No, don't panic. He can't do anything. Saito will protect Kaoru and the others, remember? Kenshin grabbed tight of this notion and didn't let go, letting it slow his racing heart and smooth his temporarily frayed thoughts. He shouldn't let himself get frazzled like that, it would only make things more difficult -
"Namaka!" Fushiyuuki barked suddenly.
"Sir?" the guard that Kenshin had ignored until now said; it was the first word he'd spoken since Kenshin had seen him.
Adopting a conspiratorial air that made Kenshin shiver, Fushiyuuki said, "You saw that pretty girl who was so terribly distressed when we arrested Himura-san, didn't you?"
What is he getting at? Kenshin thought.
"Yes sir."
Fushiyuuki grinned, terribly reminiscent of a hungry wolf. "I'll bet you'd like to find out what she tastes like, wouldn't you?"
"Yes sir." Namaka answered in the same deadpan tone as he had before, but the effect was the same.
He wouldn't... Kenshin gritted his teeth so hard it made his head throb. Ignore him. He's just trying to anger you.
"Yes..." Fushiyuuki rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I think I'd like to have a go at her as well. My wife has gotten rather boring as of late." He looked at Kenshin, that awful smile still plastered across his face. "We could tell you all about it when we get back, Himura-san. How would you like that?"
A red mist was beginning to cloud Kenshin's vision, and his hands began to twitch spasmodically of their own accord. He clenched them into fists to stop the trembling. Don't listen to him... Saito will protect Kaoru... It was getting harder and harder to listen to reason...
"And what about that Sagara guy you were so willing to take the blame for, Himura-san? What horribly unfortunate accident will befall him?"
Namaka blinked a few times, the only suggestion that he was thinking at all. "Yakuza, sir."
"Excuse me?" Fushiyuuki asked, genuinely surprised that his underling had spoken without being prompted first.
"Sagara was once a hit man for hire. He earned quite a reputation for himself. No doubt there are several yakuza who are anxious for revenge against him."
Fushiyuuki laughed. "You don't speak much, Namaka, but when you do it's always something valuable." He stared off into the distance, as if seeing some grand vision. "I can see the headlines now: 'Dismembered Body Found in Tokyo Bay,' or perhaps, 'Gruesome Death Attributed to Yakuza.'" Fushiyuuki winked conspiratorially at Kenshin. "Men all across Tokyo will be crossing their legs a little higher when they finish reading that article." He laughed at his own divine wit.
Kenshin knew he shouldn't have done what he did next, but in that instant he literally lost control. Uttering a visceral roar of pure rage, he lunged at Fushiyuuki. How dare the bastard threaten his friends! He was going to rip that son of a bitch's throat out -
Suddenly, Kenshin found himself on the ground, gasping for air. He knew what had happened - he'd been hit in the solar plexus - but that did not make it any easier to breathe, nor did it lessen the shock at the speed in which Namaka had attacked. This unremarkable man, with a face so dull you'd wonder if there was anything unique about him at all, moved at a speed which was impressive even by the high standards of Hiten mitsurugi-ryu. Clearly Kenshin had underestimated him.
Fushiyuuki looked down disdainfully as Kenshin struggled for oxygen. "You see, Himura," he said, "I made a proposition to you - a fair one, might I add. And yet you insult my intelligence by trying to fool me with this pathetic facade?"
"......"
Taking the forged testimony, Fushiyuuki crumpled it in his fist and angrily tossed it aside. "I will make you suffer for this insult, Himura." He stepped over Kenshin's prone form (he'd since regained control of his breathing but was unsure whether to try and stand) and said to Namaka, "I do believe Himura tried to attack an officer. Please deal out the punishment accordingly."
"Yes sir."
The first blows landed before Fushiyuuki even left the room. All will to fight back having left him, Kenshin brought his still-shackled hands up instinctively to protect his face, but this only left his stomach open to attack. When he curled protectively around his stomach, Namaka kicked him in the back. The policeman was unyielding and showed no mercy; it was as if he was hitting a sack of rice.
Finally, Kenshin was hauled to his feet and half-dragged from the room. As he was led down the passageways, he couldn't help but focus on the smallest, most trivial of details. For example, he noticed that on ever third stride Namaka would step squarely on a seam between two stones in the floor. He was utterly fascinated by the shadows cast by the kerosene lamps on the walls, and for two full minutes he pondered the tickling feeling of the blood from his nose running down his chin. This was a defense mechanism; focus on the trivial in the hopes of forgetting more disturbing thoughts or, as in this case, physical and emotional pain. It didn't work too well.
As Kenshin was shoved into his small cell and the heavy iron door was closed behind him, he suddenly noticed that he was still without one of his socks. This was indescribably funny for some bizarre reason, and he probably would have started laughing uncontrollably if his face didn't hurt so much. So instead he stopped his bleeding nose with one hand - thank god nothing was broken - and sat on the narrow wooden bench bolted to the far wall, trying to comfort himself with the knowledge that Saito would use all his skills to protect Kaoru, Yahiko, Megumi and the others, and that Sano wasn't anything near a pushover either. They'd be able to take care of themselves. At least... Kenshin hoped they would.
He rested his head against the damp stone wall, pulled his hand away and examined the blood that had leaked onto his fingers. He sniffed once experimentally and was met with a metallic taste in the back of his throat. Despite himself, a half-smile flickered briefly across his face. His friends had always chastised him for trying to take all the world's problems on his shoulders. Now he couldn't do a thing about even his own problems, though he doubted they were very happy with the change.
There was just no pleasing some people.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Har-dee-har-harr... that wasn't very funny.