Chapter Fifteen: Retribution
Rolling through puddles from the previous night's rain, a gray sedan pulled up behind a scattered crowd of onlookers. A neatly dressed woman in a blue suit emerged and locked her car with a beep. Above her, the morning sun was bright behind the thick layer of clouds, turning the sky into a glowing gray-white that ached the eyes.
She had entered an old part of the city, a place known for outcasts and vagrancy, both then and now. Where everything had a greasy feeling that was hard to describe, as if no matter how many times it rained, it would never be clean.
She wove through the onlookers to the temporary barricade and one of the officers stationed there. Before she could reach for the badge that dangled from a lanyard around her neck, he waved her through. She frowned, his disinterest for protocol irritating her, but then she let it go. It was her obstinacy concerning rules and etiquette that had earned her this assignment in the first place.
A jumbled collection of police cars and forensic vans surrounded a crime scene and when she made her way past them, she discovered a line of police tape and dipped under it.
Ahead, blue canopies shielded the scene from the drizzle, and below them, people worked, setting down numbered cards and kneeling to take photographs. Under an opaque sheet lay the tragic shape of a young man's body, a pool of rain-diluted blood fanning out from his head.
At the edge of the scene, a woman with a long braid stood at a folding table, cataloguing bags of evidence before storing them in cardboard boxes for transport.
"Yoshino-san," the woman in the suit greeted.
"Detective Jin," Yoshino answered back, looking up from her work.
"What's the situation?" she asked.
"Homicide," she replied, confirming the obvious before elaborating, "We can safely assume that death was gun-related. Bullet entered the back of the skull. No exit wound. Judging by that and the size of the entry wound, I'd say it's a small caliber."
She nodded. "Close range?"
"Maybe. We'll know for sure when the medical examiner does the autopsy, but I did see some stippling around the wound."
"Any ID?"
"Yes," she replied and reached for a paper bag. When she opened it, she retrieved a smaller plastic bag from within. Inside was a simple wallet with a school ID card displayed on one side.
Jin pulled out her phone from her pocket and took a picture.
"He was bound at some point too." Yoshino waved to the photographer and he approached. After scrolling back through the photo history, he settled on an image of a young man's wrists with painful purple lines wrapped around them. "Ligature marks. Also, I can't confirm it yet, but I think a few fingers were broken."
"Tortured?"
She shrugged.
With her brow furrowed, Jin looked back at the body and the pool of blood. "Was he dumped?"
"No, considering the amount of blood, he was likely killed here." She looked to the marbled gray sky and frowned. "We might be able to find trace evidence, but with the rain…"
"Yeah… Maybe we'll get lucky and there was an eyewitness."
"This is Namidabashi. The Bridge of Tears. The most infamous execution site in this city's history," a voice said from behind them. "Nobody sees anything here."
Jin sighed. "Nakagawa."
Wearing a clear rain slicker over a rumpled gray suit, a man walked up beside her.
"Why are you wearing that stupid hat?"
"It's raining," he replied with a grin and tipped a worn-out fedora toward her. "Or it was."
"Also," she pointed to the rain slicker that he wore, "That's a women's style."
"Hmm, I didn't notice."
She sighed again. "You're a detective."
He shrugged and scratched at the stubble on his chin. "What's that got to do with it?"
"I don't want to interrupt," Yoshino spoke up, clearly wanting to interrupt. "But my team needs to finish working this crime scene before we lose any more evidence."
"My apologies," Jin said, nodding a polite bow. Then she clasped Nakagawa by the shoulder and escorted him away.
"See ya, Yoshino-san!" he said brightly.
"How did I end up with you as my partner?" Jin grumbled before letting him go.
"You know why," he said, pointing a finger at her chest. "You have the kind of charm that gets other people promoted."
She scowled.
"Please, you're a cop, not a lawyer. Stop proving my case."
They ducked past the police tape and wove their way around the cars and vans. When they reached the edge of the road, they could see below to a newer street that ran parallel to it. Nakagawa leaned over the railing to spy down at the ancient stone arches that divided the two roads, a rare glimpse of old Edo in a city that was constantly changing.
"Still, The Bone Street seems a bit much for some poor kid who pissed off the wrong people. There's something more to this," he mused.
"The victim was shot in the back of the head with a small caliber gun in a place that's historic for executions. And most likely tortured beforehand too."
"Definitely feels like a yakuza hit."
"Maybe we're overthinking it," she wondered.
"Maybe," he replied. "Did they find an ID?"
"Yes. His name is Takano Kisuke." She retrieved her phone from her pocket. After entering his information into an app, she selected the results. "According to the database, he's a local. Some run-ins, but the notes say that counseling was helping. His mother reported him missing a few days ago."
"Weird." He shrugged, and turned around to face her, his back against the railing.
"It's like he's a warning," she said thoughtfully.
"How so?"
"He's just some nobody kid, right? But he gets kidnapped and tortured? They're looking for information. If they had found it, then they would have just killed him and dumped him somewhere. But if they didn't, and if that information was about a person or persons…"
"They want to let them know that they're looking," he concluded.
"It's possible."
"It's desperate." He frowned. "Who's active in this area? Kuro-Sakura?"
"Yeah, but they've been on the decline. And it's been worse over the last couple months. I looked up their current status on the way over when the radio reported that the homicide might be yakuza-related."
"You're like a detective's detective, you know that? I don't have to do any work."
She sighed. "So, a lot of their Kobun members have been ending up in the hospital lately. Even a few Shatei. Maybe the older brothers and the family head are getting nervous."
"Someone's spooking them… Or something."
Jin scoffed.
"Come on," he needled her, grinning, "You've heard about it too. Some kind of demon hunting down criminals."
"There's no such thing as youkai."
Nakagawa raised both hands and gestured toward the buildings that surrounded them. "You can't tell me that in this place, there are no spirits present. This spot is literally called The Bone Street. Thousands of criminals were executed here. Butcher shops and tanneries still operate here. All those years of death and resentment have to add up to something."
"Whatever."
He laughed. "Or not. But someone's coming at Kuro-Sakura." He nodded toward the crowd loitering at the edge of the police barricade. "Let's go see if we can find some witnesses before we break the news to the poor kid's mother."
"I thought you said no one sees anything here."
"No one does, but you're going to stop calling me your partner if I don't start pulling my weight."
Her thoughtful reaction was all the confirmation he needed, and he laughed again.
They headed across the road toward the milling crowd. Not quite camouflaged against the overcast sky, something silver a top one of the apartment buildings caught Jin's attention. Her eyes rose to the roof where a figure in white stared down at her, its face a growling beast.
She gasped.
"Are you okay?" Nakagawa asked, pausing in his step.
She blinked. And then the roof was empty. "No, I just…"
He looked at her expectantly.
"It's nothing. I just thought I saw something."
He grinned and made spooky noises.
She lightly shoved him. "Let's go."
OOOOOOOOOO
The halogen lamp glowed over the metal door behind the night club. On the rooftop above, Sesshoumaru watched. Beyond the absence of slushy snow, the alley appeared no different than it had a week ago.
Under the light, two men waited, and when he gave the air a light sniff, he confirmed that they were same ones as last time. But despite their scent, they seemed different. Whereas before they exuded a calm detachment, tonight they fidgeted, sucking down their foul cigarettes as fast as they could light them. He wrinkled his nose at the tang of their body odor. Sweat poured from them on a night cold enough to freeze puddles.
They were expecting something to happen but acting as though the evening was progressing as normal.
He snorted. They were a lure for an ambush. But for who?
Sesshoumaru recalled the brash young man who rode a two-wheeled steel horse. There was a connection, after all he had assaulted these men and the murdered boy was someone he knew. Someone he mentored. But the man was also exceptionally cautious. And in any case, these men were far too nervous to be concerned about a human male who wields a staff.
They were waiting for him.
And if they were a lure, there were surely more waiting inside.
He smirked.
OOOOOOOOOO
"Why are we the bait?" one of the men asked, his hands shaking as he pulled the last cigarette from his pack and lit it with his zippo lighter.
"We're disposable," the other man replied indifferently, his restless scanning of the shadows belying the coolness of his tone. "We can pretend that it's because we're usually the ones who work the entrance. Or that you've seen the monster, so that makes you one of the few that's not laid up in the hospital over it. But it really just comes down to the fact that we're entry-level enforcers who've only ever been trusted as lookouts."
"When you put it like that…"
He scoffed. "Just survive. If the monster shows up and he gets taken out, we'll be Kobun members for sure. Maybe legitimate brothers if we do the job ourselves."
He nodded.
A sound clattered from the black maw of the alley.
Both men jumped, their cigarettes falling from their mouths. Reaching back, they grabbed the metal bats that leaned against the door, their eyes never wavering from the darkness.
"Go check it out," the second man ordered, giving his partner a hard nudge.
An expletive stuttered from the man and he lifted the bat up with both hands, ready to swing. Slowly, he ventured towards the shadows, his breathing ragged with fear.
The other hung back, watching, one hand gripping his bat and the other hovering over the door, poised to give the signal. He never saw the snarling mask appear behind him. His head collided against the door with a heavy metallic ring.
"Oh shit!" the first man yelled, spinning on his heel back toward the door. But as he turned, his partner crushed into him, tossed by the demon. He let out a grunt as he was knocked off his feet.
Entangled together, they struck the ground hard, tumbling through puddles and trash before sliding to a stop.
Waiting until he was certain that they were done for the evening, Sesshoumaru turned his attention to the door. Through the thick metal, he could hear men giving orders. From the direction and clarity of their voices, he assumed that there was a long hallway flanked by a room on either side.
Inhaling deeply at the door hinge, he teased out what scents he could. The muddled stink of humanity made it difficult to narrow down how many waited for him inside, but it was the chemical odor of gunpowder that interested him the most. Even with his new armor, the hallway was a death trap.
As he considered his options, his eyes rose to the yellow light of the halogen lamp above him. He had an idea.
OOOOOOOOOO
In silence, the men waited. They loitered in each room and leaned out at the fortified doorframes. Behind overturned furniture, they hid at the rear of the hallway, their guns ready. The loud bang against the alleyway exit had been more telling than the signal they had planned with the lookouts earlier. Something was out there. They only needed to wait.
The wrenching whine of metal cried out, and then the exit door disappeared. Without it, the wintry chill rushed in. Somewhere beyond, there was the heavy clatter of the door being cast away.
The sharp pops of gunfire filled the air. They were immediately followed by even sharper commands. Silence returned.
With a tinkling crash, an object struck the hall light and it shattered into a shower of glass. Black consumed the hallway except for the weak lighting of the adjacent rooms and the lonely yellow glow that shone in through the gaping doorway.
Another pop. Another steadying command.
The room to the right shuddered as the wall facing the alleyway exploded into a hail of concrete and brick. Through the hole, a crowbar flew, striking the light fixture. Darkness fell.
Panicked breathing and thundering heartbeats swelled. The men closed ranks, their weapons trained on the jagged hole and the shadowy alley lit by yellow beyond.
A man sighed, feeling the comforting hand of a brother on his shoulder. Then it squeezed and the world spun as he flew forward. The demon was already inside.
Guns were torn from hands and followed by metallic crunches. Desperate as their terror mounted, those armed with bats began to swing, striking their brothers and adding to the turmoil and panic.
One by one, they were lifted away, their bodies flying out into the night to strike the far wall of the alley. For every man who spilled into the room from the hallway, another joined the slumped mass outside, groaning in pain. Until there was only one left.
Fumbling into his pants, the man pulled his cellphone from his pocket and the flashlight switched on. The soft white light filled the rubble strewn room around him. He stumbled about, disoriented by the chaos. And as he turned around, the light flared brilliantly against the towering demon. The mask glowered down at him as two hands took him by the shoulders. Then the room and the light fell away as he too was cast out into the night.
Lit from below by the dropped phone, the demon looked around. Except for the distant groaning, he was surrounded by silence. With a light sniff, he tested the air. No enemies remained, at least not in the open spaces. But somewhere deeper within the building, he sensed desperation mixed with cologne.
He approached a wall and jumped up to yank his crowbar free. Darkness enveloped him again as he left the room for the hallway. When he reached the end, he brushed aside the furniture turned makeshift barriers. Behind them, he discovered a locked door. The doorframe splintered as he tore it away.
Beyond it was a large room lined with tables topped by green felt. Playing cards and poker chips were scattered across them and the thick scent of cigars and liquor soaked every surface. And on the far side in front of a bar, a man in a tailored suit waited.
The pop and the impact were almost simultaneous. The demon felt at his chest.
Gun in hand, the man laughed breathlessly. But before the gunshot echo faded, the demon was gone, and his elation evaporated.
Sending out sprays of cards and chips in his wake, the demon leapt across the tables, closing the distance between them. The man raised his gun again, but before he could take aim, it was too late. The demon swatted the weapon away and then grabbed the man by the collar to slam him down onto the floor. And there the man lay, writhing and coughing.
The demon walked behind the bar. On the floor, he discovered a large duffel bag and peeking out from under the flap were bundled stacks of yen.
"What are you?" the man managed, wheezing in pain.
The demon pulled a bottle of dark liquor from a shelf, twisted off the cap, and gave it a sniff.
"Revolting," he said with mild disgust. "You would think that after five hundred years and all your inventions, humanity would do better than this." He tossed the bottle and it shattered against a table. More bottles flew as he emptied the bar. Soon the air was saturated with alcohol.
"Why are you doing this? What do you want?" the man asked, fear rising in his voice.
The last bottle flew. The demon leaned down and picked up the duffel, throwing it easily over his shoulder. "Youkai-brewed sake," he replied with a wistful sigh.
"What-?"
"Time to go, human." The demon produced a zippo lighter from his pocket.
The man's eyes widened, and he scrambled weakly to his feet. Stumbling and falling, he limped across the room toward the exit. With cool indifference, the demon followed. And when he broached the broken doorway, he lit the lighter with a casual flick and tossed it onto one of the sopping tables.
Flames erupted with a whoosh. From table to table, the fire leapt, devouring the room.
The man looked back. Backlit by the swirling torrents of orange and yellow that filled the doorway, the silhouetted demon stared at him, his eyes burning as hot as the fire.
"Please," he begged.
"Did the boy ask for mercy too?" the demon asked coldly.
"Please."
The demon approached, his body eclipsing the inferno swelling behind him. And then all went black.