Chapter Twenty-One: The Base Dropped
"Are we sure that this is the best outfit for me to wear?" Kagome asked, tugging at her green pleated skirt. A white sailor top and knee-high socks completed her ensemble, a look she was normally quite comfortable in.
"Nothing says underage and vulnerable like a high school uniform," Tora admitted.
With his arm wrapped around her shoulders and hers around his waist, she huddled close to him, warding off the chilly night. A heady mix of cologne and deodorant filled her nose, and the warmth of his breath ghosted across her cheek. They were the image of a couple out for a fun Saturday night, and the intimacy of their mutual embrace had caught her off guard. She would have been blushing if his tone had been anything but concerned.
"Act natural," he said, his smile fake to anyone who knew him. Together, they took a few steps forward.
"You're a much better actor than you think you are," she griped.
He chuckled. "You don't have to be as convincing as me. They're going to underestimate you from the start, which will be to your advantage. Just act natural and follow the plan."
She nodded.
"What else?"
"Don't drink anything that anyone offers me. Politely decline or fake sipping it."
He nodded, and they walked forward again.
"Flirt with the patrons, but the person we want will be Japanese, and likely a yakuza member."
He nodded. "You remember what to do if things go too far, right?"
"Yes," she replied, patting her skirt pocket.
"Good," he sighed, and then after a few more steps, "There's still time. You can back out if you want. We can figure out another way. Something less dangerous."
She shook her head. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."
"Okay. Let's do it."
The couple ahead of them disappeared into the club, and they found themselves at the head of the line. A broad-shouldered man in a blazer and a button-down shirt with a flaring collar waited for them by the entrance.
"You're back, sir?" the bouncer asked.
Squeezing her tightly, Tora pulled Kagome close and laughed. "Yeah, you know, this place isn't half bad, so I found a date who was looking for a little fun."
He nodded, his gaze wandering down to her short skirt and the legs it revealed.
With yen folded into his palm, Tora reached towards him, "The cover."
The bouncer didn't move.
"Is there a problem?"
"How old is she?"
"Uh…" Tora stuttered and looked down at her, stroking his hair. "Twenty, right, babe?"
She froze. It had all seemed simple and straightforward in theory, but now she had to do it. Be not just feminine, but attractive and exploitable. A lamb who had wandered too far from the flock. He could tell her to act natural, yet none of it was for her. She was more inclined to be brash than demure. Amaya's social media pictures flashed through her mind. Whether she was ready or not, it was the moment of truth.
Smiling coyly, she rested her cheek against his arm and giggled. "Twenty for sure."
The bouncer frowned at her, and then looked at him. "Add another five thousand."
Tora growled.
"Come on. You said this place was fun," she implored, playfully prodding his side.
"All right. All right." He fished out his wallet from his back pocket and took out another five-thousand yen note. Adding it to the wad, he handed it to him.
The bouncer thumbed through the bills. Satisfied, he nodded towards the entrance as he slipped the money into his pocket.
His hand falling to her waist, Tora guided her towards the double doors, and they headed inside.
House music thumped through hidden speakers, its fast-paced rhythm resonating through her chest. The walls featured folding fans, swords, and images of geishas, creating a clichéd Japanese aesthetic. Yet there was an unexpected deep forest theme that threaded through all of it, elevating the décor to something chic.
Once they made their way through the entryway, the space opened up into a large hall. At the center, multi-colored lasers and lights spun and flashed across a dance floor in rhythm to the music, revealing bouncing bodies bumping to the beat. At its rear, a stoic deejay played remixes in his booth. Tables flanked the floor, and beyond them, booths with plush seating lined the walls. Lit in green, a modern bar served drinks, its bartenders mixing cocktails with flourish for delighted guests.
"You're doing good," Tora whispered, leaning into her ear.
She nodded.
He gave a subtle nod towards a man in a black suit with a green button-down shirt. "Those are the yakuza guards. They're all armed with guns."
She nodded again.
"And remember the plan."
"We're going to find Amaya."
He nodded, and then he let her go. Knifing his way past patrons and hustling waitresses in skimpy kimonos, he headed to the bar.
Alone in the most figurative sense, she watched him go. Then her gaze broadened to the club in its entirety. Marked by signs in glowing red, she discovered two exits in addition to the entrance. She sighed, tempted. But with the slightest consideration, the thought of escape melted away. Too many people were relying on her, and that itself was a familiar feeling in exotic circumstances. Being depended upon anchored her and reinforced her resolve.
Before she realized it, she was heading to the dance floor. The colorful lighting effects swirled around her and the music thrummed. Starting with her feet and moving upwards, she began to dance, letting the fast beat guide her body. Soon, she was completely immersed, absorbed into the hypnotic flow of the crowd.
She wasn't a particularly good dancer, as school events and nights out with her friends had repeatedly demonstrated, but Tora was right. She didn't have to be convincing. Other dancers began to move in closer to her. They were all men, their facial features western. Maybe European or North American. One reached for her waist and she slipped away with an impish smile. Another tried to grind, but she eluded him as well. Keep them interested but far from satisfied was her game and she wasn't doing too bad.
"Let me buy you a drink," one shouted, trying to be heard above the music. His clothes and accessories too drab and ordinary, she gave him an enigmatic look and sidestepped away.
Other offers came and she continued to hold out, toying with them. Then a man in a designer suit asked her and she let herself be caught. He lent her his elbow to guide her to his booth where a few other men waited. Together, they sat down, and he wrapped his arm around her, staking his claim to his friends.
They inundated her with questions, first about Japan and then about her school uniform, betraying their hopes by doubting its authenticity. She could only pick up half of what they said, their accents thick and her English spotty. However, it didn't seem to matter as she was pulled in closer, the alcohol on their breath like a miasma in the air. Her smile became less sure and a blush heated her cheeks. Though any discomfort she showed, they missed, too absorbed by their own libidos to notice.
A round of drinks arrived, and she pretended to sip her cocktail. But with the next round and another drink waiting, they took notice and greedily pressured her to finish them faster. With a carefree giggle and a hand on her skirt pocket, she excused herself to the bathroom. Once free, she headed to the dance floor again, passing by a disinterested Tora, his back against the bar as he nursed a beer.
The pattern repeated. Dancing and playing until she let herself be lured to a booth or a private room, and then after a round of drinks, she escaped back to the floor. As the night wore on, the club thinned, and those who remained were more than a few drinks off balance. With their desires no longer veiled in propriety, their flirting became cruder, and she was soon dodging both lewd advances and shameless attempts to grope her. Her patience was gone.
When she felt a tap on her shoulder, she readied herself to slap someone. But as she spun around, she discovered a man in a black suit with a green shirt, and her hand dropped to her side.
"Miss?" he asked.
A sweet smile played across her lips and she nodded in reply. A small, selfish part of her hoped she was about to be ejected from the club.
"Would you come with me? The manager would like to meet you."
"Oh," she said, her surprise half-genuine.
He offered his arm and she took it. As he led her through the club, she furtively searched for Tora by the bar, but he was nowhere to be found. When they came to a door marked for employees, the man took her inside, and they walked down a hallway to a secure door with a keypad. He typed in the code, unlocking it before opening it wide for her.
Tastefully furnished, an office was revealed, jarring as it contrasted with the superficially Japanese theme that otherwise defined the club. Waiting inside, an older man in a tailored suit leaned against a mahogany desk, a glass of brown liquor in his hand.
"Welcome, my dear," he said as he gave the man beside her a nod. Her escort retreated from the office, closing the door behind him. The older man gestured to the studded leather couch along the wall. "Come sit down."
Swallowing, she steeled her nerve and took a seat. Somewhere beyond the walls, the muted tempo of the club music thumped.
Tipping the glass to his lips, he finished his drink. "My name is Kawano. And you are?"
"Sango," she replied with a shy smile.
"Sango? What an interesting name."
"It's old-fashioned. It's been passed down through my family for generations."
"I see," he mused, and he walked to a cabinet along the opposing wall. Elegant decanters of liquor were set upon its marble top, and he began to prepare a pair of drinks. "I've never seen you here before, Sango-san."
She stuttered, her cheeks flushing pink. "This is my first time."
"I hope you're having a good time."
"I am. I haven't been to many nightclubs before."
Picking up the drinks, he turned around and gave her a knowing look, "I don't think you've been to any nightclubs before, my dear."
The color drained from her cheeks.
He smiled, confident. "How old are you?"
"Twenty."
"Uh-uh," he disputed with shake of his head. Sitting down beside her, he set the drinks onto a coffee table. "How old are you really?"
She looked away, embarrassed.
He waited.
"Sixteen."
His smile spread into a grin, and he consoled her, "Don't worry. I won't kick you out. I admire your adventurousness. Your yearning to embrace adulthood. It's refreshing."
"Really?"
"Of course. And speaking of refreshments…" He slid her glass towards her. "Let's drink to your budding maturity."
Biting her lip, she picked up the glass, the liquor sloshing within it. When she looked back at him, he held his glass up. She mirrored him, and they clinked them together. As he took his sip, he watched her. With an uneasy smile, she put hers to her lips and pretended to swallow.
His grin never diminishing, he shook his head. "Drink it for real, Sango-san."
She hesitated.
"Go on."
Her heart racing in her throat, she parted her lips and let the liquid pour in. Smooth at first, it started to burn as it swished around her mouth, the vapors stinging her sinuses. A wet wave of nausea shot up from her gut, and she spewed the drink all over the table and down the front of her clothes.
"I'm sorry," she managed between sputtering coughs, not missing the distaste that flashed over his face. "That was so much stronger than I expected."
"Don't worry about it. I wanted you to relax. Be more comfortable." He pulled out the handkerchief in his breast pocket and dabbed her lip clean.
She took his hand and smiled. "It's not that I'm uncomfortable. I'm just nervous. This isn't what I had in mind when it comes to exploring new things. It's sort of exposed. Is there some place else we can go?"
He hummed thoughtfully. "I know of a place. But we'll be gone for a while. Your family might worry about you in the morning."
"I wouldn't think about them. They don't think about me."
Something sinister ignited in his eyes and he licked his lips.
"Could you tell me a little bit about it though? It's exciting, you know what I mean?"
Taking her by the shoulders, he pulled her close. "That information comes with a price. One I'm sure you'll gladly pay." He touched her nose and let his finger slide down to her lips and linger.
She swallowed.
He leaned in, capturing her mouth with his own. With fists clenched, her body stiffened, and she fought back the impulse to wrench away from him. He moved her lips with his own and tasted the inside of her mouth. It was everything she could do to keep from biting his tongue. When he was finished, he pulled away to hold her jaw, stroking her cheek with his thumb.
He sighed deeply, pleased. "It's an old, historic hotel in the San'ya District."
She looked at him skeptically. "Isn't that near Namidabashi?"
"This part of the neighborhood is safe these days. A police box on the corner and guards out front. Even a little bakery across the street should you desire some breakfast in the morning."
Her expression brightened, and she smirked devilishly. "Sounds perfect."
He blinked.
Gently but firmly, she removed his arm from her shoulders. "I need to use the bathroom, Kawano-san. To get ready. I'll be right back."
Standing up, she took some joy in looking down at him and the confusion she found there. But as she headed towards the exit, her feet stumbled. A fog encroached on the edges of her mind, slowing her thoughts and reflexes. Something had been in that glass. She hadn't gotten much of it, but it was enough.
Pulsing through the walls, the music tempo sped up.
"Oh, my dear. Are you all right?" he said, his concern underscored by something dark and predatory. "You seem to have had too much to drink."
Expletives poured out from under her breath and she reached for her pocket.
The music raced, climbing to a feverish pitch.
He rose behind her. "Let me help you sit down."
She pulled out a thin metal tube.
The music vibrated into a single, intense note.
His hand touched her shoulder. "I've got you."
Putting it to her lips, she blew into it twice.
And the base dropped.
OOOOOOOOOO
His attention divided between the dance floor and the employee door, Tora leaned against the wall beside a red switch, worry creasing his brow. He checked the time on his smartwatch. Kagome had disappeared into the manager's office ten minutes ago and still no cue. He felt for his pocket. Time was up. They'd find another way.
A sinuous wave of motion, the dancers flowed across the dance floor, enthralled by the accelerating pulse and yearning for the rapture of release.
And when the music reached its climax, the base dropped.
And the ceiling exploded in a hail of plaster, shuddering the building. Shrieking in surprise, they scrambled away. At the center, laser light refracted off the clouds of dust, and as it cleared, a figure in white was revealed. Glowing hot, eyes glared from behind a frightening canine mask.
"It's the demon!" a guard shouted.
"Here we go," Tora whispered to himself, and he pulled the switch.
Loud and shrill, the fire alarm sounded, adding fuel to the chaos as the stunned crowd scattered in panic.
The lights spun around Sesshoumaru, dyeing him in a brilliant array of colors. In black, the yakuza guards stalked forward, surrounding him. Then he was gone. The tails of his coat and tunic whipping around him, he flew at the closest guard. Grabbing him by the collar and belt, he tossed the man into a line of his comrades. The sharp pop of gunshots followed, but he had already sprung away. Alighting on the wall for the briefest of moments, he launched off into a downward kick, striking another in the chest.
Upbeat music blasted from the speakers. Beyond the violence, the grinning deejay freestyled from his booth, working the alarm into his fight remix with unrestrained glee.
An older man burst from the employee door.
"Okashira!" one of the guards called out to him.
"What the hell is going on?" he yelled, both angry and shocked by the disorder.
"It's the demon."
"What?"
"Over there," he said, pointing at a white blur. Guns barked and a table flew across the room. "We have to get you out of here."
"Damn it," he growled and glanced back towards his office.
"Now, sir."
"Fine." Together, they slipped into the escaping crowd and headed for the rear exit.
Seeing his opportunity, Tora made his way for the employee door. But before he could arrive to rescue Kagome, she stumbled out.
He shouted her name as he ran up. "Are you okay?"
"I'm all right," she said, rubbing her forehead. "He dosed me with something but not enough to mess me up too bad."
"Let me help you," he offered, putting his arm around her waist.
She jerked away, nearly falling.
"I'm sorry."
"It's all right. I'm just a little over people touching me tonight. Like really over it."
The color drained from his face. "That guy didn't do anything to you, did he?"
"Not anything dental care and mouthwash won't cure." She cast about. "Where's Sesshoumaru?"
He nodded towards the dance floor. "He takes being the distraction to new levels."
A rally of gunshots popped, and the daiyoukai staggered back.
"He's going to get himself killed." Her hand slipped into her pocket and pulled out the whistle. She gave it three short puffs.
Sesshoumaru sprang to the side as another hail of bullets shredded the dance floor and he grabbed another table. Tossing it at a set of guards, he followed it with a volley of metal chairs.
She blew the signal into the whistle again, and he continued to fight, ignoring her.
"We need to get him," she said, pushing her way through the people and destruction to get to the dance floor. A hand snaked out to grab her wrist. It was Tora.
"We can't help him," he assured, pulling her towards the closest exit. "For one, we're not bulletproof. And two, we need to get out of here. See reason number one for why."
"But he's going to get himself killed!"
"And us with him. Let's go!"
"You said a direct assault would be suicide."
He looked at her, his face sober. "It is."
The revelation mixed with the drugs that doped her mind and she stopped struggling against him. Her wrist still in his hand, he led her through the exit. She put the whistle to her lips again and repeated the three-note signal. Over and over, she called as they fled into the alleyway, through the crowd, and across the street into the parking structure. It was the sign for success. For victory. The sign that it was time to come home.