Chapter One: Reunion
A/N: This is a re-edited version of the first chapter. To think that I wrote this several years ago! It's a good story, and although I had sort of abandoned it awhile ago, I think I'm ready to handle it now. Writing a noir-inspired story has always been an interesting challenge... I will do my best to see this story to the end.
Flashbacks are in italics. Internal thoughts are also italicized.
Miroku Sakamota slowly sipped his tea, completely oblivious to the outside world as he gazed out the restaurant window. It was approaching evening and he couldn't help but feel mesmerized by the beautiful blue light blanketing the Earth at that moment. He had read in the morning paper that it was to storm that night, but the peaceful tone of the sky indicated that the newscasters had obviously miscalculated. He closed his eyes as he drank up the last few dregs of tea. His cup made a pleasing tinkling sound as it hit the cup. Miroku desperately wanted to savor this feeling, this bliss. He couldn't quite articulate what he was experiencing, but whatever it was, it caused him to be off-guard. His senses were weakened, but he loved it. Wanted to soak it up, just as he had with his evening tea. It was truly glorious to be rid of worry, pain, and most of all, all his troublesome memories which he feared would never—could never—fade.
Finishing up his drink, he quietly exited the tiny restaurant, with the intent of finishing up some more paper work at his apartment. Another long night of work. Still, he considered the dreary life of an office worker a welcome change from his previous way of life.
Three people—two men and one woman—appeared to be at a standstill. They each had a gun in both hands, positioned to kill. Among the three of them, each person had two guns pointed directly at his or her head.
Slowly walking about in a circle, they silently dared one another to make a false move. Miroku internally gulped; he could feel the all-too-imposing presence of the rifles. They were mere inches from his head. At any moment, they could all be dead.
Narrowing his eyes, Miroku said in his calmest voice, "Now, now. This is getting ridiculous. Let's all just drop our guns. Then we can begin the negotiations."
Of course, no one—not even Miroku—lowered their guns...
Walking into his apartment complex, Miroku was still in an enchanted state. He just couldn't shake off the beauty of the sky that evening. It made him too aware of his relaxed state, his loosened alertness.
Sadly to say, this was a mistake. In all his years with the Hand of Destiny, the most important rule was to always, always stay on your guard.
But it was too late for that now. Before Miroku could even yell out, a strong hand clamped down over his mouth and pulled him straight to the ground, all in one silent motion.
But Miroku knew how to fend for himself. He knew exactly what to do. After quickly wrestling with his attacker, he managed to free one of his arms and administer a powerful blow against the mystery man's stomach.
His effort was successful; Miroku was completely free of the attacker's grasp. As he instinctively crouched into the proper fighting stance, his attacker came into plain view. Miroku immediately dropped his stance in shock.
"Keh! I see you've gotten a bit rusty, haven't you? Pathetic."
"I-InuYasha? … But why?" Miroku was extremely surprised that his old friend had come here. "How… how did you locate me?" He frowned, noticing his old companion's aged face as he stepped more into the light.
"I have my ways."
Have they been monitoring me? Is that even possible? If so, then...
His thoughts were interrupted as InuYasha placed his hand on Miroku's shoulder confidentially. "We don't have much time to talk, Houshi! But... I'll try to discuss everything. Tonight." "
At an ungodly hour of the evening, a man clothed in dark purple and black briskly walked through the empty streets. In spite of the pouring rain, his tread was silent. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he ruefully admitted that the newspaper hadn't lied after all. Such a shame... The sky really was quite beautiful before the rain. But isn't that always the case?
The streets were completely deserted because of the intensity of the storm. Perfect. When he finally reached his destination, Miroku abruptly halted and stood like a sentinel at the base of the lamp post. To anyone else, this would have seemed a completely random location. But for him, it was the place. The place where InuYasha would unveil some great, hidden mystery to him.
He had initially thought he was alone, until his guest jumped down from a nearby wall.
"Didn't even realize you were late, did you?" InuYasha muttered gruffly. He leaned against the wall he had descended from, arms crossed impatiently.
I really must be getting rusty... Damnit. Miroku's white-haired companion was a tall, well-built man, about his age, and dressed in a similar fashion. However, InuYasha's clothes were entirely black. Miroku locked eyes with him and, in response, InuYasha nodded his head discreetly. Instead of considering his silence a further rebuke, Miroku understood it as a familiar greeting. This was always InuYasha's way of greeting on the job. Even after three years...
InuYasha stood by the entrance, staring at Miroku nonchalantly. As if he didn't care. Miroku stopped in front of the door and closed his eyes, waiting for InuYasha to ask the inevitable.
"So, you killed him?" InuYasha finally broke the silence, asking the question as casually as possible.
Instead of answering, Miroku simply pushed past his friend. But before entering the building, he turned around and stared at InuYasha, challenging him for a further prompt.
But InuYasha simply nodded. After all, what was the point of a further interrogating?
His silence had said all InuYasha needed to know.
Miroku shuddered and tried to push that particular memory to the back of his head. He needed to focus on the present. On InuYasha and the urgent matter he had eluded to.
"So... How's life on the other side?" InuYasha asked, in that familiar casual tone. Miroku couldn't help but smile. Although InuYasha's cold tone and expressionless stare indicated otherwise, Miroku could tell that InuYasha was glad to see him again. It had been three years, after all.
"Hard to say. I guess I've actually made something of myself. But it's not at all what I'd expected. I just have this feeling... I don't know. It's this feeling that something's... missing."
"Hn."
InuYasha didn't have to ask. He knew his friend was talking about her. It was too obvious. And that's why he was there. Why he knew Miroku needed to be contacted. Kagome had warned him about coming here. Nonetheless, he ignored her pleas and willingly put himself in this dangerous situation. He owed that much to Miroku.
"InuYasha!" Miroku quickly ran toward his companion, darting through the scattered gunfire."Get up! There's still time! Here, let me help you up!"
As he approached the wounded man, InuYasha immediately snapped.
"Just leave me be, damnit! I'm fine. If you think a couple of fuckin' bullets will kill me, then you're wrong! Protect Kagome!" yelled InuYasha.
"InuYasha…," he began. Miroku's eyes softened as he simply stood there, dumbfounded. Meanwhile, gunfire continued to surround them. This time, Miroku didn't bother to try and dodge them. He didn't even wince when one scraped his arm, barely making contact.
"Just go…," the white-haired man said once again, this time with less force. However, Miroku refused to heed his command. Roughly, Miroku lifted InuYasha onto his shoulders and proceeded to try and leave. As this happened, another bullet managed to hit Miroku, this time, making contact with his arm. Still, he continued carrying InuYasha away from danger.
InuYasha was surprised; no one had ever risked their life for him. Never. Kagome never counted, she in no way ever had the chance to do such a thing. He couldn't find the right words to express his gratitude at this. "Miro-," he began.
"Quiet. You're badly wounded. It's hard to imagine you're still alive considering how badly they got you," Miroku said gravely. They moved at a sluggish pace, but were making progress. As if reading InuYasha's mind, he added, "I didn't want to leave you behind."
"Keh. Why? Not sure I'd do the same for you." Miroku nodded.
"Fair enough. But I know who I am and I know what I have to d—" Miroku had to hastily bite his tongue down in order to keep from crying out in pain. He had been hit with another bullet; this time, in the back. After a few deep breaths, he continued. "When we escape, it will be together."
InuYasha was stunned. Here they were, stuck in a shower of bullets from every side, shot and wounded, covered in blood, barely able to protect themselves... And here he was, talking about escape? Escaping together? Either this man was extremely good-hearted, or extremely crazy... Maybe both.
InuYasha blinked. This definitely was not the time to be daydreaming. Time was of the essence. After all, he wasn't sure how long he had before Naraku would notice his absence from the capitol. Naraku would soon come looking for him. That is, of course, if he hasn't already sent some men out. InuYasha hated feeling so paranoid. He hated feeling monitored. There was a time when true escape was possible; the man standing before was living proof of it, not to mention the other one... the reason he was there. But now, with two escapees on the Hand of Destiny's record, Naraku made sure that no one else would leave the group. This made it all the more complicated for InuYasha and his most rusted companions within the Hand to carry about their unofficial business. Business such as this.
"InuYasha?" Miroku asked, interrupting InuYasha's thoughts. "Why are you here? How are you here? I didn't think anyone would trace my whereabouts... And after three years, why are you only choosing to meet with me now?"
"Keh. Always straightforward. That's good. We shouldn't be wasting any more time. To begin with, you need to know something..." InuYasha hesitated, unsure how to proceed with his information.
"What? What is it?" Miroku eagerly asked. "Does it have to do with...?" He felt a rush of hope surge through him. He'd been waiting for news of some sort for a long time. Perhaps not a direct encounter with the Hand, but some sort of indication of what transpired after he had left. Something in the news, perhaps. He drew his hand to his forehead, overwhelmed by everything. There was so much to catch up on, yet, as InuYasha pointed out, there was little time to explain everything. He felt so rushed, yet his mind—and apparently his companion's mind as well—couldn't focus on anything concrete. His thoughts had thus far been bouncing between painful memories and half-constructed hopes of a lost dream. He couldn't articulate himself anymore, and simply let his sentence fade.
"You need to know that—," InuYasha's speech was abruptly interrupted by an eruption of bullets. Their noise was enough to rival that of the thundering sky above them. Angry shouts peppered the city air. "Shit, I've been gone too long!"
As if from thin air, InuYasha suddenly produced a red clothe bundle. He hurriedly, yet gently, shoved the bundle into Miroku's hands. "Can't talk now. They noticed I was gone. Shit! If I get caught now, all of our lives are at stake! But hopefully," he said, pointing a finger at the bundle secured in Miroku's hands, "that will help explain things for now!"
And with that, InuYasha sprinted way from Miroku, disappearing into the rain.
Shivering, he looked down at the small bundle in his arms. Its bright red cloth greatly contrasted with his dark outfit. Miroku was puzzled by InuYasha's uncharacteristic indiscretion. Considering how gently InuYasha had handed the package to him, it made no sense why the covering should be such a shockingly bright red. Then again, Miroku hadn't even noticed InuYasha had brought it with him.
Since InuYasha was obviously worried about monitoring, Miroku was much too clever to unwrap the package out in the open. It was best to hurry back to his apartment and find out in private. He quickened his pace as he tried to run toward his home in the opposite direction of the previous gunshots. Soon enough, he broke out into a running speed. Damn, he thought. I'm so far away... I should have just taken the bus. But he had made the conscious decision, ages ago, to never take the bus. He didn't like feeling so confined in public.
The rain was pouring more heavily, obscuring his vision to the point where he accidentally tripped over a misplaced brick on the road.
"To hell with this!" he cried out in frustration. He realized that he had been running in circles and was now quite a ways from his building. "Who cares if they see me? It's so dark out, and the rain... Anyways, I bet those men won't recognize me out here."
Dramatically, he unveiled the treasure to himself.
Miroku simply stood there, gaping at the contents of the bundle. His expression changed from confusion to a look of surprise, recognition, then once again, confusion.
"What the...?"
A wet nose poked itself out of the bundled wrappings. As it poked around to feel its new carrier, its whiskers tickled Miroku's fingers. "It can't be..." Miroku muttered under his breath, as he removed the rest of the bright red cloth. In his arms was a tiny cat. To most, it would have appeared quite strange, but Miroku had seen this cat many, many times. No doubt it was hers. No other cat bore the same diamond-shaped mark on its head, the same coloration on the paws and ears, the unusual twin tails... There was no mistaking it.
"Kirara...?"
AN: Hooray! Revision complete. I intend to finish this story, so don't lose hope! And... You know... Review. That will surely help inspire me.