Chapter Thirty: Finding One's Way
Freed of the takeout bag that overburdened him, Souta walked beside Sesshoumaru as they headed towards the train station. His hand held gently by the daiyoukai, it was a strange sensation to be the one leading the way, but to seem like the one being led. There was an unexpected power in it, and he found himself enjoying it. Afterall, the one who rescues is the one who's in charge.
"Souta," Sesshoumaru said, squeezing his hand as he interrupted his amusement.
"Yeah?"
"Do you remember when we carried the balance boiler for that man? The one who recycled what others discarded?"
He nodded, "Yeah."
"Do you recall the agreement that I made with you when we followed him? The one where I shared my reasoning for why he deserved it?"
"On what it means to do the right thing?"
"Yes," he agreed, "I wish to make another accord with you."
He hesitated. "Okay."
"I will explain why being this Demon of Namidabashi matters, and if you do not deem it worthy of my support, I will no longer be it."
Souta swallowed. "What do you mean?"
"I'm at an impasse," he admitted with a sigh, "As a guardian to the people of this city, I've chosen to be a crowbar that both builds and breaks. But to be the part that breaks is a heavy burden. It preys upon my weaknesses. The recklessness that wounds my body and worries your heart. And my inclination to give in to retribution and pursue it at the cost of myself and others."
"Oh…"
He waited.
"If you're not it anymore," Souta asked, "Would we still help people? You and me?"
He nodded. "Together, we are the part that builds."
He smiled, uplifted by the honor of being worthy and a bit shamelessly by the possibility that the mask he carried in the bag right now would go away forever. He only needed to say that it was too hard, and it would be over. And with that thought, his smile faded.
"I'll listen, but…" Souta began.
"But?"
"What happens if we come across a problem fixing something, and the answer isn't in the basic guides?"
"What do you mean?"
He shifted the weight of the bag over his shoulder. "Well, we can usually find the answers, right? But what if we come across something that needs to be fixed, but we don't know how to do it?"
"We have the internet."
"But even then. If it's hard to do, are we going to finish it? Or are we going to leave it broken? And if too many things are hard to fix, are we going to stop helping? Stop being the part that builds?"
"Are you asking if we're going to walk away from it?" he offered.
"Yeah."
Letting Souta's hand go, Sesshoumaru rubbed at his chest. And as he did so, one of his shirt buttons came undone, revealing a glimpse of the spider-shaped scar underneath.
"We don't become better at what we do without making the effort," he assured. "And we don't overcome our failures by walking away."
"I just don't want to give up helping people. The way that we do it."
He smiled softly. "We won't. Even if we must work at it every day."
"Okay," he agreed, grinning.
He snorted, amused.
"You can tell me now. About being the demon. I'm ready to hear you out."
"There's no need," Sesshoumaru said, taking his hand again. "I'm no longer conflicted. I cannot overcome a weakness that I'm unwilling to face."
Confused, Souta looked up at him and found him gazing back down at him.
"You can see again?" he asked excitedly.
"Lights and shadows for now," he explained, and then paused thoughtfully, "Thank you… Thank you for helping me find my way."
The warmth of his gratitude puffed up his chest and he nodded. "Of course!"
A helicopter patrolled nearby, its rotors beating the air.
Pulsing red lights reflected across Sesshoumaru's face and his gentle countenance hardened. Other pedestrians pressed in around them, funneling towards the lights, drawn to them like moths to a candle. As they crowded together, their bodies swallowed up Souta, and he let out a whimper. The daiyoukai's hand slipped upward to find his shoulder, and then he pulled him in close. Somewhere up ahead, a man spoke into a megaphone.
"We are currently conducting a security check for this area," he announced, "Please have your identification ready and be prepared for the possibility of having your belongings searched. We apologize for the inconvenience and we appreciate your patience."
"It's the checkpoint," Souta gasped, and he took a step back only to be pushed forward by the mass of people behind them. "We can't go through it. They'll find you."
Sesshoumaru shook his head. "We will go separately. You're not suspicious and they can have me. When you get through, you'll call your mother or Kagome, understand?"
"No…" he whimpered.
"I cannot see well enough to get us out of here without attracting attention to you as well. It's the only way." He squeezed his shoulder. "It'll be all right."
"I don't want to go without you. I was supposed to rescue you."
"I know."
His hand left Souta's shoulder.
"No." He reached out for him and missed.
"I can't believe it. It was you," a man said to them before they drifted apart, his voice awash with astonishment. "I knew there was something off."
Blinking, Souta looked up.
Dressed in a trench coat and a battered hat, the man smiled at them. His bright gaze flitted back and forth between them before it settled on Sesshoumaru. "How you carried that balance boiler makes so much more sense now."
The daiyoukai's hand found Souta's chest, and he scooped him towards him until he was pressed against his abdomen. "Who are you?"
"A friend." He held up the identification that dangled from the lanyard around his neck.
"You're a cop?" the boy blurted out.
Sesshoumaru held him tighter.
"Look, I know you didn't kill those people at the shipping yard. And over the next few days, the evidence will prove that. Something's going on with the yakuza clans in this city and you're caught up in it. But you're not innocent either and I've got some questions for you. It just pisses me off that these bastards think that they can use the police to take you out."
"What do you want?"
"To pay you back," he said simply, "For saving those girls."
He slipped away, weaving through what remained of the crowd in front of them, leaving behind a wake of grumbling annoyance.
"Oh, detective," an officer greeted him.
"Hey, I've got a special assignment to escort a couple people to the train station," he explained candidly, "They got caught up in that tear gas cannister that bounced into a bunch of onlookers."
"Yeah, no problem. Just take them through."
"Thanks."
Wearing a dopey grin, the detective reappeared. He brushed past them to stand behind Sesshoumaru, and then put his hand midway up his back. "Ready?"
"What are we doing?" the daiyoukai asked.
"Just follow my lead. Don't make eye contact. And give me a little trust."
He frowned. "The number of requests for trust by strangers today has been unacceptably high."
"I'm going to take that as a yes."
With a light shove, the detective pushed against him, and together they plunged forward.
"Excuse us," he announced loudly as people parted from their path, willingly or not. "Police business. Many apologies."
In a moment, they breached the checkpoint itself. Lined up across the sidewalk, several officers stood, comparing IDs to individuals and casually poking through belongings. For the most part, they simply waved people through, their physical descriptions absolving them from any further scrutiny.
"Thank you, officers," the detective said as they passed by, and he gave them a casual salute. "Have a good night and stay safe."
"No problem, sir. And the same to you as well."
With the oppressive tension of the checkpoint behind them, the detective removed his hand from Sesshoumaru's back, and slipped to the side so that he could walk beside them. A constant flow of other pedestrians rushed past them, hustling to the station.
"I still have a lot of questions," he began, picking up his identification holder and flipping it over to reveal a slim pocket. "Ones I'd appreciate some answers for."
"I don't care for owing favors to others without my permission," Sesshoumaru declared, his eyes glowing faintly.
"What I did just now wasn't a favor," he explained, pulling out a business card. "Like I said it was payback for saving that girl from falling at the hotel in San'ya and for finding the missing ones trapped there too. I did it because I like to think of myself as a man of some kind of integrity." He frowned at the glare. "And maybe one that lacks an understanding of self-preservation."
"You know who he is?" Souta asked, still baffled.
"Not really, and that's the point. I don't know who or what you are, and vigilantism isn't exactly legal. My partner thinks that you should be arrested, but me? I'm on the fence. You've got the yakuza shook and that's good in my opinion." He held the card out to them. "My instinct says that you're trying to help, but I can't decide either way without the facts."
Sesshoumaru watched him.
Undaunted, he waited.
Biting his lip, Souta reached out and accepted the card. In hard, black print on white paper, it read 'Inspector Nakagawa Eiji, Detective: Criminal Investigations'.
"Something's coming and you're at the center of it. I can feel it," Nakagawa said confidently, "If you're standing on the side that makes this city a better and safer place, consider me an ally. If not, well…" He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and gave them a nod. "I'll be seeing you around."
Then he strolled away, disappearing down the sidewalk and into the night.
The rhythmic whipping of the helicopter faded until only the rush of the city could be heard.
Sesshoumaru sighed. "Humans."
Reaching up, Souta felt for the hand that still held him and gave it a squeeze. Gently rubbing his chest in return, the hand then slipped upward to pat him on the head.
"Let's go home," Sesshoumaru said, and they again headed towards the train station.
Souta looked down at the card once more before stuffing it into his jacket pocket. The detective was a weirdo, but the man wanted to believe in them. And most importantly, he wanted to believe in the Demon of Namidabashi.
OOOOOOOOOO
The bag of takeout still on his hip, Sesshoumaru stood in the train car, his body in sync with its physics as it glided over the track. Dimmed for the night service, the fluorescent lighting in the car still proved painfully bright to his abused eyes, so he kept them shut as he listened to the hum of the motor. Despite having spent half the night without his vision and sense of smell, he felt strangely calm. He had tried to contextualize it and found it to be akin to the feeling that he would have if the station announcements failed to transmit over the train speaker. That it wouldn't matter because he still knew where he was and where he was going. That he wasn't lost.
And then on cue, the announcement ping-ponged.
The motor wound down as the train slowed to a stop. He felt Souta's small touch grasp his forearm, and his eyelids cracked open to look at him.
"Our stop," the boy said cheerfully.
Sesshoumaru nodded.
The doors slid open.
Out on the empty station platform with their arms akimbo, Mama and Kagome waited. And beside them, stood Tora.
A sigh of relief escaped Sesshoumaru, catching him off guard.
"Souta!" Mama called out sternly.
The boy shrank back, putting Sesshoumaru between him and his mother's incoming wrath.
"Don't you hide behind him. The Demon of Namidabashi can save a lot of people, but he can't save you from me."
With a gentle hand at his back, the daiyoukai pushed him along until they disembarked. And with a rush, the train sped away down the track.
Mama's glare stayed on Souta as he was marched forward, and then her gaze rose to Sesshoumaru. Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. "%$#&!"
"Mama!" Kagome scolded until she beheld him as well, "What the %$#& happened to you?!"
He sighed. "Tear gas."
"Can you see?"
"Well enough to get home. Shall we?"
"But—"
"Let's go," he insisted.
She paused, and in her expression, he could see her weighing how much one more word would cost her in this discussion.
Turning on her heel, she faced Souta, "Why did you go without us?"
The boy groaned. "You said that if something happens, make a plan. So, I made a plan."
"Oh, do not blame this on me."
"Sesshoumaru gave me the privilege of stalking him on my tablet because he trusts me. He didn't give it to you. It was my responsibility. Maybe you should ask yourself why you're so untrustworthy?"
A series of offended noises bubbled from her but nothing coherent.
"You still shouldn't have gone without us," Mama said with her arms crossed, "What if something had happened to you?"
He groaned again. "Come on. You let Kagome jump through a well and fight youkai and monsters, but I can't ride the train by myself. This is a double standard."
"What has gotten into you?"
"Evading the cops changed me," he replied sagely, "I think… I think I've finally become a man."
"All right, let's go," Mama ordered, her hand finding his back and she pushed him along, "We are clearly past your bedtime."
"And I haven't even finished my homework yet," he grinned as he walked, his fingers laced behind his head.
"Don't worry. I'm going to let Kagome come up with the illness that I'll tell your teacher about. The one that prevented you from completing your work."
"No!" he gasped.
Kagome giggled maniacally.
As they bickered, Sesshoumaru and Tora fell in a few paces behind them. A record breaking twenty seconds of silence passed.
"I don't know if you realize this," Tora said at length, "But you look like shit."
"Your ability to make astute observations is astounding as per usual," he replied dryly.
He chuckled.
"I assume that my escape was well-documented. How did you fair?"
"Well, it turns out that some of those guys we fought weren't actually unconscious," Tora explained, running his fingers through his fohawk, "You were barely gone when they popped up and started beating the other guys to death. It was a complete shitshow. One caught me across the back, but the body armor you gave me absorbed enough of the blow for me to get away."
"Why did you give me the diversion signal instead of the long, single note to call me back?"
"I would have, but they were using crowbars and the cops were called to the scene before the guys were even dead. They wanted to frame you for murder and either get you killed or captured. I wasn't about to make it easier for them by inviting you back. Plus, you're like a beacon for trouble." He laughed. "And I'm not a fan of being collateral damage."
"You remind me of a flea I once knew."
"I have no idea if that's an insult or not."
He chuckled.
"At any rate," Tora continued, "There was no way that I was going to sneak out on the bike, so I stashed her in one of the cargo containers and hopped the fence into the next lot over. And while you were playing with your yakuza squeaky toy, I flipped my jacket inside-out." With a hand flourish, he drew attention to its blandness. "Because no self-respecting street vigilante would wear a quilted jacket. I'm just saying.
"By the way, I was going to help you out, but then you launched a tear gas cannister into the crowd, so I figured you had it under control. Besides, the family started blowing up my phone, and I came here instead."
"Ah."
"You know, if you checked your phone every so often…"
"How was I in the position to check my phone?" Sesshoumaru asked, giving him a flat look.
Tora frowned thoughtfully. "I can see how that could have been difficult."
"There are times when you make me nostalgic for claws. And acid."
He laughed, and then sobered, toying with the zipper on his jacket. "I'm glad that you made it back. The whole point of me joining you tonight was to help you out in case there was trouble. I was supposed to be there for you, but I wasn't. And now you're all messed up again."
Sesshoumaru laughed under his breath and shook his head. "You weren't the one who failed. I did."
Blinking, Tora looked at him.
"I surrendered to my anger at being deceived and insulted when I should have searched for you. I abandoned you for vengeance. My pride was more important than the wellbeing of a friend."
"Hmm…" he hummed thoughtfully, "But I didn't really want you to find me. So, let me ask you, would you have acted differently if I had called for you?"
"I don't know."
Tora nodded. "Would you act differently now?"
He frowned, thinking. "I'm not certain, but I would like to believe so."
"Overcoming your failures is never easy and neither is becoming the person you were meant to be." He blew out a breath and grinned. "My caseload is pretty full, but I think I can squeeze in a daiyoukai if you want to become one of my kids."
"You couldn't handle the paperwork."
He laughed. "So true!"
He smiled, and then it faded. "Today, a man told me that I represented a spirit of vengeance. That the community perceived me as an avenging force whose role was to right the scales of injustice and inequity. But I cannot fulfill that role, not without great cost as we have seen tonight. Another theorized that I was not vengeance but hope. The embodiment of opportunity returned to the people—"
"Stop," Tora interrupted kindly. "As a hero, a guardian, or whatever you envision your final role to be, it's yours. You can't be all things to all people. And if it's not what some of them want, %$#& 'em. I've spent my whole life being judged by how I look and by how I talk. No matter who gave you the name, you are the Demon of Namidabashi. You decide what that means."
He shook his head and smiled again.
"What?"
"There are times when you remind me so much of him."
"Who? It's not the flea, is it? Because I'm still not sure how I feel about that."
He laughed, and with the inhale, he picked up the scents of asphalt, tree sap, breaded pork cutlets, and less detestable now, the redolence of humanity. It was all back. He had everything he needed to find his way.
"Oh, Akane," Tora groaned as he rubbed his face, "I don't think I'm going to get her back. She's probably on a cargo ship by now or something. Stupid yakuza bastards."
Sesshoumaru raised an eyebrow.
OOOOOOOOOO
A volley of loud knocks banged on the apartment door.
"Yamato!" a grouchy voice yelled from outside. "Yamato, get up!"
Wearing a tank top and an old pair of basketball shorts, a bleary-eyed Tora answered the door with a yawn.
A squat woman of fifty stared up at him, her expression the purest form of limitless contempt.
He blinked slowly. "Good morning, Suzuki-hime."
"You're a disrespectful mess," she spat, reeling from his breath. "Your mother should be ashamed of you."
"Good morning, Suzuki-hime!" he greeted her again, but in an upbeat, sing-song voice.
Scoffing at him, she took a step back. "I don't even know why you're allowed to stay here, you punk."
"Because I have good credit," he grinned.
She grumbled.
"So, why are you honoring me with your grace…" He paused, trying to figure out where the sun was. "This morning?"
"Your bike. I told you not to park it in the courtyard. On the street only."
His eyes brightened, and he leaned out the doorway of his second-story apartment to look down at the courtyard below. Looking no worse for wear, he spied his red sport bike.
"Yes!" he shouted and wrapped his arms around his landlady in an enthusiastic hug. "He brought her back! He owed her one and he brought her back!"
"Let go, you punk bastard!" she managed as he squeezed her and swung her around.
"The Demon of Namidabashi!" he yelled at the sky. "You're my spirit of hope!"
A/N: With this chapter, we've completed this story arc and before we begin the next one, I'm doing a special Q&A chapter featuring a few special guests. If anyone here has read Seven Feudal Fairy Tales, you know what's coming. What I need from you are some questions about this story that you'd like to hear answers for.