Chapter Fifty-Six: Reunion
Sesshoumaru stood.
The thick glass pane creaked under the soles of his boots, scratching inside its frame. Whipping around his ankles, vortices of youki pulled and pushed against the window, fluttering his tucked pantlegs and binding him in place. Shimmering silver and swaying in the wind, his hair flowed behind him, claimed by the gravity he had yet to feel.
Beyond his mane, in the hazy distance at his back, the sprawling city basked in the golden throes of late afternoon. Muffled by the buffeting wind, he could hear the discordant song of police sirens echoing through the concrete canyons. A city in chaos, swept up by a ferocious storm. And like all hurricanes, the eye retained a surreal stillness, an uneasy reprieve that only foretold violence.
Barefoot in a crisp, white pantsuit, this storm's eye approached.
"Welcome to my castle," Oya greeted, her tone snide and bitter. She strolled down the face of the tower towards him, her long braids swirling behind her, ignoring the pull of gravity.
He stared at her, letting his molten glare in the shadow of his mask speak for him.
"You must forgive me and my lack of hospitality at the moment," she continued, thrusting her chin out defiantly. "There's a bit of family drama going on."
Coolly, he spied down through the shattered window beside his boot. Collapsed on an office floor, the man he had saved wheezed painfully, his body still entangled in the tarp.
"Ungrateful children," she said with disgust. "You shelter and provide for them, and by that love and generosity, they believe they're entitled to all that you have."
His attention returned to her.
"Still," she continued, "Their disappointing lack of appreciation did provide me with one measure of satisfaction. It forced you to slink out of your hole and face me. Not even capturing one of your females accomplished that."
His eyes hardened. "Where is Higurashi-san?"
She laughed darkly. "You needn't concern yourself about that woman. Her injuries are superficial at most, and not from lack of trying on her part either."
Tilting his nose up, he scented the air. Despite the city's muddying redolence, the wind blew in his favor and he caught her profile emanating from the hole in the penthouse floor above. Kagome and Tora would find her. They would escape. All he needed to do was hold his ground long enough for them to succeed.
He gazed down at his fist laced in glowing hot metal. He still had time.
Then a snowflake floated past his head, tumbling sideways towards the window beneath his boots. More followed, becoming a glittering curtain that blanketed the face of the tower in a drift. He scanned the white field, steam curling from the snarling maw of his mask and a chill nipping at his skin.
"You're stronger than you were when we first met," she noted, then nodded towards his gauntlets. "Kept yourself busy while you were cowering? A waste of time really. Toys made for youkai trash are nothing before celestial might. They provide the illusion of power and nothing more."
He snorted. "Illusions are all that you have. You may conjure elements of the forest and your army of followers, but none of them are real. Dispel them and all that's left is your bruised pride. And eternal loneliness."
"You're just like that woman," she scoffed, and she squared her body with his, every muscle promising violence. "But neither of you know anything."
"No, I'm finally free from that cruel ignorance," he assured, and he raised his right fist. A green, phosphorescent vapor flowed from his hand, enveloping it. "When we first fought, you called me a husk in the skin of a daiyoukai. Shall we discover if that's still the case… hanyou?"
With a growl, she took flight, sprinting down towards him.
"Poison whip."
The vapor around his hand condensed, forming a brilliant, green filament. Sizzling with acid, the whip grew, arcing from his fingertips.
She closed the distance in a leap, her fist drawn back, welling with power.
He swept towards her, and his whip scythed upward, snaring her by the arm. With a quick jerk, she was gone, tethered, as he yanked her down and smashed her through a window ten stories below in a sparkling hail of glass and snow.
He stared at the dark gap, watching as tinkling shards rained down on the city below.
Then a boom reverberated through the tower, causing the window beneath him to rattle.
Another boom swiftly followed, closer.
Then another.
All around him, the powdery snow sank, turning to slush. Wary, he stepped back, sloshing in the puddling water, and through his rubber soles, he felt a boiling heat radiating outward.
His eyes widened, and he leapt back as a plume of iridescent fire incinerated the window, chased by a blur in white. Wreathed in flame, Oya exploded through the molten glass. Her eyes blazing with rage, she sprang towards him, her body rotating in space, and her foot arcing in a downward kick.
His whip blinked out and he raised his arms, bracing for the blow.
With a resounding crack, the strike ruptured the air. Glass exploded, spraying shards, and the metal window frame underneath him crumpled. But he held, his gauntlets bright. And with one arm still bearing against her, he launched his fist, aglow with acid.
Nimbly, she flipped backward, narrowly dodging his punch.
But he wasn't done. In a shower of snow, he barreled after her, throwing his weight into a flurry of blows. His elegant partner, she danced away, dodging and weaving, letting his acid singe only the air. Enviable in their grace, they fell into a violent rhythm, his bold and direct offense versus her elegant evasion. But his real target was her penchant for complacency. Hubris was a weakness he knew well.
She pivoted towards the right, and he smirked.
He moved to punch with his left, then feinted, throwing her off guard and leaving her open for a right hook. Growling satisfaction rumbled in his throat when he felt his fist hit her jaw.
Another crack echoed as his blow sent her cartwheeling up the face of the tower. With an acrobatic twist, she righted herself, sliding across the glass in a powdery wake of snow until she slowed to a stop.
Exuding confidence, she stood up. Raw and blistering, her skin had peeled away from her cheek, exposing pitted, pink flesh. Blood wept from the wound, and along the edges, the acid still bubbled.
He clenched his fist and the green vapor consuming it flared menacingly.
"No, you're no longer a husk wearing the skin of a daiyoukai," she admitted, working her jaw. Then she brushed the back of her hand against her burned cheek and a soft radiance swelled where she touched.
For a moment, the scent of fresh grass thriving after a spring rain filled his nose.
And when her hand passed across her cheek, it wiped away the wound, revealing warm, brown skin, whole and unblemished.
He scowled.
"Instead," she explained with a contemptuous smile, "If I'm the bearer of illusions and nothing more, then you are the lord of delusion." She nodded towards his gauntlets. "How much of your power do those weapons eat? And in a battle of attrition, I wonder which of us has more? I think you already know the answer."
His eyes narrowed. High on her forehead, he spotted a tiny bead of perspiration.
"It's only a delusion if it's not true," he replied, then sprinted towards her, his fist ready.
OOOOOOOOOO
A boom shuddered the building, sending flakes of plaster tumbling from the ceiling.
With a hustle in her step, Kagome headed down the narrow hallway. Deep and endless, a labyrinthian forest surrounded her on rice paper walls, its lush watercolor achingly beautiful. She held out her hand, letting her gloved fingertips flutter along the panels until they collided with the hard edge of a frame. Pausing a moment, she shook it, hoping for a rattle, but it held firm. Just another piece of the wall. Then she moved on, her search beginning again.
Tora gasped.
She looked up. Further down the hallway, she spotted him, his hand on a panel frame. He gave it a gentle shake and she could hear it rattle in its track. A door. She jogged to him, biting her lip as she watched his hands glide up and down it, seeking the hidden handle.
A click.
He laughed soundlessly, giddy with success.
Sharing only a look, they both flanked the door, their weapons in hand. He reached out from the side, taking the handle, and starting from three, she nodded a countdown to zero.
He slid open the door.
And only the whisper of air conditioning flowing through a vent awaited them.
Peeking in, he called out softly. "Higurashi-san?"
Following suit, Kagome joined him. "Mama?"
Elegantly arranged, leather lounge chairs and antique furniture filled the room, but it might as well have been empty. Another dead end in a maze filled with them.
Louder than the last, another boom thundered, and a black crack radiated across the bay of windows, splitting the cityscape in half.
"Damn it," he muttered, and he brushed away the sweat dappling his forehead. "This is taking too long."
She sighed, his anxiety a reflection of her own. When they had begun their search, they had prepared for open office space or corridors lined with suites. Anything but this verdant labyrinth that hoarded its secrets. Protected them from both friend and foe. If they had infinite time, they could keep playing it patient and safe.
The building quaked again and more glass fissured.
But if Sesshoumaru was risking himself, then they would, too. Caution was a convenience they couldn't afford anymore. And her throat itched with a name she missed and desperately wanted to find.
"Mama!" she shouted, surprised by the worry wavering her voice.
Tora stared at her, taken aback.
"Mama!" she shouted again.
Then he nodded, understanding. "Higurashi-san!"
They waited in the silence, listening intently, but there was no reply. Just ventilating air.
Together, they headed out into the hallway. Lightly jogging ahead, he took point as they began to yell, heedless of the noise.
"Mama!"
"Higurashi-san!"
She paused eyeing him. "Why do you keep calling my mother by our last name?"
He blew out a breath laced with exasperation. "Because your mom thinks it's funny to keep it a secret, and I'm stubbornly waiting for her to accidentally let it slip."
She snorted, suppressing a laugh. "You'll be waiting for a while then. My mother always wins."
He smiled to himself. "Guess that means we'll be playing for a long time to come, because if there's one thing I hate, it's losing."
Hope swelled in her heart.
Feeling it, too, his pace quickened. "Higurashi-san!"
"Mama!"
And in the pause, someone answered back, muffled yet unmistakable. "Kagome-chan?!"
They glanced at each other, their shared surprise assuring them that it wasn't their imagination. Somewhere nearby, she was here. They were certain of it. Then they were gone, sprinting down the hallway.
"Higurashi-san?!" he shouted.
Holding her breath, Kagome strained for the silence between their thudding footfalls, listening.
"Kagome-chan?! Tora?!" Mama called out, her voice high with emotion.
She was behind them and with boots squeaking, they slid to a stop. Quickly, they raced back towards a set of panels. Fingers slid up its frame, and with a click, the hidden door unlocked. Tora slid it down its track and the hallway filled with daylight.
Backlit by the city, Mama stood in the center of the room, her hand covering her mouth and tears welling in her eyes.
"Kagome-chan?" she whispered in disbelief. "Tora?"
Her own tears spilling down her cheeks, Kagome burst forward, crushing into her, and her arms wrapped around her in a fierce hug. Cool silk against her face instead of cotton felt wrong, but she was soft and warm, but more than anything, her scent was right. She was real. They'd found her.
"I didn't know if I was ever going to see you again," Mama said, nuzzling her daughter's hooded head. "But I knew if I survived. If I was patient and just survived, you'd find me. My heroes."
"Of course," Tora assured, grinning from beneath his mask. "The knights are supposed to rescue the princess. What else could we do?"
Looking up, she beamed at him, and then with a welcoming wave, she begged him to join them.
But before he could take a step, another boom shook the building and clumps of plaster struck the floor.
"We've got to go," he said, eyeing the crumbling ceiling. Then he reached out to take her shoulder. "We don't have a lot of time."
"Wait," Mama said, and she turned to look at the far side of the room.
Watching them in silence, two strangers waited. Dressed in the same finery as Mama, there was a young woman, and beside her, sitting up in a medical bed, was a man in a suit.
Kagome gasped.
"Don't worry, child," Ishida growled, his face permanently etched with a scowl. "I don't bear you or any of your clan ill will. Game recognizing game and all that. Just take your mother and get out of here."
Mama blinked with shock, then softly smiled.
"Our clan has disintegrated," he added, "And Lady Oya already has who she wants. There's no more reason to keep you here." Then he nodded towards Yukina. "My only price is that you take her with you."
"No, Ishida-sama," Yukina objected.
He turned to her and lied. "I'll be right behind you. I just have some unfinished clan business to take care of before I leave."
"Why don't we take care of it now, Ishida-san?" a man snarled menacingly from the hallway. "And bring this little family drama to an end."
Matte black, a gun raised.
Squeezing Kagome close, Mama turned, putting her back to the doorway.
And with echoing barks, gunshots popped.