Chapter Seven: The Wayward Receipt
Clacking smoothly beneath his feet, Sesshoumaru could feel the steel centipede race along its fixed track. Trapped in the husk of its segmented body, he held onto the bar overhead with one hand, letting the beast take him where it pleased and hoping that they somehow agreed. Souta had called it an elevated train. He looked down at the boy sitting in the plastic seat beside him. A locomotion of man.
It reeked of them at the very least. Sweat mostly, but there were other odors as well and none of them were flattering. Still, it was the nature of the summer, even when they hovered upon the cusp of fall.
"Isn't that heavy?" a young woman asked from the seat across from them. She gestured to the sawed-up stack of lumber he held on his shoulder. Pungent as she spoke, he could smell her sickly-sweet breath. It reminded him of mint.
"He's fine," Souta snapped.
Taken aback by the sharpness of his reply, she glanced nervously between them.
They both stared at her in silence.
"Oh." Confused and unexpectedly embarrassed, she pulled out her smartphone from her purse and turned away.
Looking around the train car, Souta caught several surreptitious glances their way. A few passengers whispered, and he growled when one pointed a finger.
Crossing his arms against his chest, he leaned back and sighed. "People are stupid. Don't they realize that they're staring at us and how rude that is? It's so annoying."
"It has always been this way," Sesshoumaru replied. "In five hundred years, nothing has changed."
He nodded.
"The only improvement is that they don't do anything that requires me to kill them now. I cannot melt them with acid, but I can toss them off the centipede if necessary."
In shock, Souta looked up at him.
He looked back, his expression was both blank and honest.
"You can't kill anyone."
"Why?"
"You just can't. It's wrong."
Sesshoumaru shrugged. "I find that to be a remarkably insufficient reason. Humans are more prevalent now than ever. A little population control might be a benefit."
Souta's mouth dropped open. "You can't. It's wrong. Taking a life is wrong."
"Why?"
He sputtered.
Sesshoumaru waited.
Then he smiled, his fist striking his palm. "Because it's against the law."
"Law?"
"The government made it against the law."
He nodded. "The government. That was mentioned in those books that Kagome retrieved for me. Instead of lands divided by feudal lords, the islands of Japan are united under one government. They were ruled under an emperor at one point, but now a group of men are elected—"
"And women," Souta interrupted.
"A group of men and women," Sesshoumaru corrected, "Are elected into office by the common people, though I find it odd that they would permit the peasants to decide over such important affairs. Human are such unfathomable creatures."
"Anyhow," he went on, "In order for our government to protect its people, it enforces laws. One of them makes murder illegal."
He hummed.
"If anyone violates the law, they get arrested by the police. Eventually, they get tried in court, and if they're guilty, they get punished."
"Are they then killed?"
"Only if they've done something really bad, like murder. Usually they just go to jail for a very long time."
"That seems to be a considerable amount of effort. Why not stab them and be done with it?"
"What if they aren't guilty? What if the wrong person was caught?"
"An unlikely occurrence."
"It's happened before."
"The accidental death of one human is hardly a tragedy. Many innocent ones die from illnesses and injuries every year. They did nothing to deserve it."
"But you can't compare people getting hurt or sick to purposefully killing someone for a crime they didn't commit. People can't help dying from car accidents or heart attacks. It's just bad luck. Besides, the government and the police are supposed to protect the innocent, not make us live in fear. That's what the laws are for. What good is it to have rules, if the people in charge can break them whenever they want?"
A long silence passed as Sesshoumaru mulled over his reasoning.
"Laws, you say?"
Souta nodded.
"Demanding order from this chaotic city, these laws appeal to me."
He sighed in relief.
Letting out a whistling whine, the train began to brake. With a pin-pon, the intercom turned on and a friendly woman announced their arrival at the upcoming station.
"That's our stop," Souta said as he turned around in his seat to look out the oversized window.
"Good," Sesshoumaru replied, and he shrugged to adjust the lumber until it was comfortable.
Built with sterile concrete and trimmed in blue, the station platform appeared as their train glided up beside it. From business suits to school uniforms, a few dozen people stood out on the platform, each waiting behind the red line that ran parallel with the track.
Coming to a smooth stop, the train idled for a moment. Then there was a mechanical hiss, and the doors slid open. Normally impatient, the other passengers hung back, watching the strange man and the boy near the exit. Taking the opportunity, Sesshoumaru and Souta stepped off the train first.
Making their way across the platform, they wove through the milling crowd waiting to get on. They soon found the exit gate, and they took the flight of stairs down to the sidewalk below. Wedged between a traffic-clogged street and a dizzying array of storefronts, they began the final leg of their journey home.
"What are we building today?" Souta asked, swinging the plump plastic bag he carried.
Sesshoumaru snorted, noting the we he used so loosely.
"The sliding door is new, and the stairs don't creak anymore," he said, listing their accomplishments. "After ripping it out a while ago, we finished laying the new upstairs floor last week. All the cabinets have new hinges and are repainted. I know that Mama said it would be nice to have a new table in the family room, especially after we spilled glue all over the old one. But maybe we can just sand it and repaint it too." He laughed. "Wouldn't it be funny if she thought it was new?"
"A new table for the family room may be a fine addition at another time."
"Oh," Souta said, puzzled. "Then what's this lumber for? It's a type used in furniture, isn't it? Aren't we making a table?"
"We are crafting a table, but not one for the house."
"I don't get it."
"I am not the sole pupil in this new way of the warrior, so why should I be the only one who has a table on which to work?"
Souta's eyes lit up. "We're making me a worktable?"
He nodded.
"All right!" he half-yelled, unable contain his excitement. "My own workbench!"
Sesshoumaru smirked, amused by his exuberance.
"So, what did we buy exactly?" he said as he opened the plastic bag. His interest, which had been somewhat mild at the hardware store, suddenly erupted. "Let me see if I can figure out what it's gonna look like. This is so awesome!"
The afternoon breeze picked up, and a flimsy slip of paper hardly worth noticing was swept up out of the bag.
"Crap! The receipt!" Souta yelled, watching it as it fluttered and flew out past between two parked cars. "Mama's gonna kill me!"
Hopelessly distracted, he dove out into the street after the receipt. And as he stumbled out onto the hot asphalt, he looked up, realizing his mistake. The cool shadow of the delivery truck fell upon him. There was no time to brake.
The whine of twisting metal tore the air. The sour stink of coolant sprayed, followed by the heady pungency of gasoline and oil. Some of it splattered on his face, burning.
Though his eyes were pinched shut, Souta felt something strong wrapped around him, protecting him from the chunks of metal and shards of glass that showered from the sky.
A terrifying eternity passed in that fraction of a second, so when the eerie silence finally came, he could hardly believe it.
Shouts began to pepper the quiet.
His vision blurry at first, he opened his eyes to pieces of truck strewn about the street. Warm and secure against him, he noticed Sesshoumaru with his arms wrapped around him. Cuts swelled along the surface of his skin, blood trickling from them.
"Sesshoumaru! Sesshoumaru!"
"I'm here," he answered softly.
Hearing his deep voice, Souta shook, overwhelmed with hard sobs. "Are-are you… Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
He twisted around and buried his face into his chest as he hugged him tightly. He could feel beneath his torn shirt. His back was sticky with blood. "You're hurt, Sesshoumaru! I'm sorry. I don't know why I did it. I was so stupid. And now you're hurt, and it's all my fault. I'm so sorry."
"Don't concern yourself. The wounds are shallow and not worth mentioning."
"B-but…"
He pulled Souta back so that he could look him in the eye. "Not worth mentioning. We must go now."
Stifling his sobs, he inhaled deep through his nose and nodded.
"Good." With bits of glass and debris spilling from him, Sesshoumaru stood up. They then took a few steps away and looked back at the youkai-shaped hole in the truck's engine.
On the sidewalk, a crowd of people stared in wordless disbelief.
Then one began to clap.
And then another.
Soon a rush of applause surrounded them, accented with cheers and high-pitched whistles.
"What are they doing?" Sesshoumaru asked.
"You're a hero."
"A hero?"
He nodded. After rubbing his eyes dry with the back of his hand, Souta looked up at him. "You're a hero."
An approaching siren wailed. Trapped behind a wall of stopped motorists, red flashing lights spun.
Souta tugged on the tail of Sesshoumaru's shirt. "It's the police. We have to go."
"Are they not allies? Enforcers of your laws?"
"Now wouldn't be the best time for an introduction. Not too many people can stop trucks with their bodies, and only get a few scratches. They're gonna ask questions that are probably best left unanswered."
Sesshoumaru nodded. Even as he was confused over the need for secrecy, he accepted that it wasn't his culture. It wasn't wise to debate when he had very limited knowledge on the subject.
Together, they abandoned the lumber, the plastic bag, and the wayward receipt. They slipped through the flocking onlookers until no one recognized them anymore. Soon, Souta was leading them down side streets and alleyways until they spotted the familiar trees that lined the shrine.
Still echoing in his ears as they climbed the steps, Sesshoumaru remembered the crowd's applause and Souta's praise. You're a hero.