:Mmm... hot water...:
Kneading shampoo into his hair, Kenshin stifled a chuckle. You're a sybarite, you know that?
:I am a civilized being,: Battousai said archly. The sakabatou might be safely away in his bedroom, but distance had ceased to matter days ago. :Hot water is one of humanity's greatest and most civilizing inventions. Hot running water - well. It is no true match for a soak in a properly steaming pool, but it will do.: A contented sigh, as suds swept down the drain. :Turn just a bit that way, yes...:
Kenshin sighed himself, feeling the combination of heat and Battousai's power working out the last of tonight's bruises. It was hard to grudge the blade his simple joy in sensation. Even if it was a bit - unsettling - to feel the backwash of that purring pleasure in clean, wet heat.
The sword-spirit blinked sleepily in his soul. :You do like it, don't you?:
Kenshin closed his eyes and ducked back under the shower spray, working the last suds out of long hair.
:Kenshin...: A sigh, and then silence.
Turning off the water, Kenshin blinked stray drops out of his eyes. Frowned. It wasn't like Battousai to give up that easily.
Still silence.
Through the walls he could hear Kaoru's own shower running, triggering a fleeting impulse to head to the next apartment, snatch up a certain damp kendo teacher, and haul her back to his own couch for the night. An impulse Kenshin firmly squashed. Not because Kaoru might take it the wrong way - she knew him, she knew he wasn't that kind of guy. At least, he hoped she did.
No. It was all too likely Kaoru would read any attempt to carry her off as exactly what it was: not a rude human courting gesture, but instinct rooted in steel and magic. He'd fought to keep her alive. Tasted her blood. Her ki. She belonged where he could protect her-
And if she even guesses you're thinking that, Kenshin told himself dryly, Sanosuke won't be the only guy rubbing lumps from that bokken.
"I'm fine," she'd said when they parted for the night, hand barely straying near her neck. "The building's safe. And Yahiko needs his big brother all to himself tonight." Kaoru had hesitated, blue eyes troubled. "And I just... need to think. Okay?"
No. Not okay. I know you. I need you to be safe.
But Kaoru's apartment building was safe. As safe as decades of magic and Target Alpha's computer blocks could make it. If Virus were near here, he'd know.
I can't upend Kaoru's life just to make my nerves feel better. Not when I... care about her...
Steel never quivered.
Uneasy, Kenshin took advantage of the odd quiet to dry off and grab his bathrobe. A habit he'd developed in college, and never quite managed to put down again; all too many of the guys he'd shared dorms with thought lack of height meant lacks in other areas as well. It was a hell of a lot easier to get sneered at for being modest than be ogled as not quite a girl.
A lot easier, he knew, pulling the covers over his head, not to think about it at all...
"Hey, Himura!"
A few steps away from his dorm-room door, wet hair just starting to chill against his neck, Kenshin turned - and regretted it. Drunks.
Frat brothers, most would say. He didn't really see much difference. Which fraternity, he neither knew nor cared; the hulking bodies in yeasty t-shirts and natty striped business shirts were clue enough that he was in trouble.
Odd. He was looking at faces, he knew he was - yet all he saw were blurs. Must be more tired than I thought.
All the more reason to get out of here. Why, why, why had some idiot let these jerks in?
You know why. They're tall, and charming, and they act like they're the center of the universe. Everything you're not.
"Aw, don't tell me the little geek is ignoring us."
A heavy hand reached for him; Kenshin side-stepped it with an innocent look, getting just a little closer to his door. "Sorry, guys; I've got this massive exam tomorrow, you know how it is..." Don't move too fast. But don't be slow. Something's wrong about this. Unobtrusively, he slipped his hand into his bathrobe pocket, fishing out his key.
"Exam tomorrow!" For some reason, that broke up the whole group in gales of beer-soaked, sloppy laughter.
I really don't like the feeling of this. One step at a time, just a few more, he was at the doorknob.
"Listen up, pretty boy." A muscled grip caught the collar of his bathrobe, tugging it open. "You've got an exam tonight."
Fear froze him, key in hand. This couldn't be happening. Couldn't be. He couldn't be seeing in their eyes... what he was eerily sure he was seeing.
Lust. Will to pain. Hunger.
"Isn't that right, guys?"
"Yeah!"
The ringleader let terrycloth out of his grip, convinced his prey was cowed. "I can't hear you!"
"YEAH!" Toilet paper flew through the air. T-shirts and no shirts at all started banging trashcans together.
"One more time-"
Click.
A quick twist of the key, an even quicker jump inside to lock the door behind him again. All he wanted was to breathe-
No time!
Snatch the sleeping bag from his bed. Shove up the window so it gaped suspiciously open. Swift and silent, dash into his wardrobe, pulling that door shut behind him to make it look as though no one was there.
Bang! "Bitch locked the door!"
"Get Haggarty!" another voice cursed.
Oh, by all means, do get the RA, Kenshin thought wryly, crouched in darkness. He wouldn't be surprised if they could track him by heartbeat alone.
"Yeah, he likes us, doesn't he?" Rough snickers. "What do you think - a ten ought to get us inside?"
Kenshin froze.
The world froze.
:What would you do?:
There wasn't light enough in the wardrobe to see anyone. There wasn't room for there to be anyone to see.
And yet - someone was there. A dark, subtle presence in blue and gray, threads of crimson drifting past its shoulders. A small presence, kneeling as he was kneeling, patient as stone.
:Knowing then what you know now, what would you do?:
Then? What did he mean, then? This was- was-
Clawed fingers reached through the darkness, wrapping their odd comfort about a trembling human hand. :What would you do, my heart?:
I... would...
Do nothing, Kenshin realized. His quick bluff had worked, even when the bribed RA had let the bastards take a look. Even if he'd had the skills to defend himself - which he hadn't, then - they were far too drunk to see reason if one of their number fell. Attack one, and he would have had to take them all. And with so many, in such close quarters... someone would have died.
Fangs glinted in a shadowed smile. :Wise.:
Kenshin's fists clenched. If I'd been smart, it never would have happened!
:Will you let fear rule you even now? Evil happens, my own. All we can do is be prepared to defend ourselves from it.:
That's the point! I could have... I should have...
:There should have been something you could do, yes. Yet there was not. You had no control over the actions of a mob of drunken louts, nor over the betrayals of your community, who should have seen this as a threat to one of theirs - and did not. You acted to preserve yourself, and you succeeded. No one should ask more.:
Knees aching on top of squashed sneakers, Kenshin winced. If I - if I'd been...
:Like them?: Alien disdain curled through him. :Unmannered, uncouth brutes, who mistake wealth and power for iki and hari? You couldn't live with yourself.:
Iki? Hari? Kenshin tried to blink, feeling something... not quite right about this whole night. Samurai virtues don't exactly get you far in New York, that they do not.
:Ah? And why not? Samurai have been creatures of cities since well before the Tokugawa bakufu instituted alternate attendance.: A quiet laugh. :Though it was the virtues of the townsfolk I was thinking of. The surface may have altered, but in spirit, Edokko chounin had much in common with the folk you know today. I met more than a few of them, who had come to Kyoto for one side or the other...:
Edokko. The children of the castle-town of the Tokugawa, unlike anyone else in the world, who moved about like streamers blown by May winds.
How do I know that?
Kenshin drew in a sharp breath, feeling the substance of the wardrobe start to fade like mist. What on earth is going-
:Shh, little one. You don't need to be awake. Not yet.: Those strong, alien hands rubbed comfort into the backs of his. :Let me show you...:
Blood. Spattered on the ground. Drifting on the wind.
A red-and-white banner, broken; the character of Makoto - Truth - still fluttering in the starry night. A few last, red drops, trickling from the katana in his hand.
Bodies, clad in blue and white. Torn and shattered, beside the steel that had not saved them.
I... killed them?
Blood on his blade, on his claws, in his breath. Though oddly, not a drop had touched the Choushuu-blue haori weighing down weary arms. He was so tired...
But he wasn't done. Not yet. Not while he could still sense the fleeing ki of those he guarded, disappearing into Kyoto's back alleys.
"Okita-kun." A deceptively warm voice in the night. "Please step back."
"Don't worry about me." A small, dark-haired samurai - still a few fingers taller than himself - grinned, blue-and-white uniform rustling softly as he raised his blade. "I'm still captain of the First Unit, after all."
"But are you not ill in the lungs?"
So he is, Kenshin knew, sensing that bitter crack in Okita's fierce ki. Not that it would stop him from cutting me apart.
Though he might die trying...
"My eyes are not made of wood," Okita's taller companion smiled, a few dark bangs flying free over his iron headband.
Say rather, your nose, Kenshin thought wryly. If you are who I think you are...
"I, Saitou Hajime-"
Yes, I thought you were.
"Captain of the Third Shinsengumi Unit-"
The Wolves of Mibu.
"-Will kill the Hitokiri Battousai."
Really?
Saitou dropped into the left-handed crouch of Gatotsu, right hand splayed against his blade to guide the deadly thrust. Growled, eyes gleaming from human blue to wolf-gold.
Without thought, Kenshin lifted his blade to guard.
"...Ready."
Still silent, Kenshin waited. Saitou's ki was focused, but not ready to strike. Not yet. Not yet-
Steel keened on steel.
:What would you do?:
Another blue haori, just at the edge of his vision. Crimson strands, blowing in the wind.
:Knowing then what you know now, what would you do?:
Break free and run, Kenshin thought, still dazed by the way his mortal enemy was frozen, as he was, halted in that moment of memory like a scorpion in amber. There's no point in killing them. I promised to protect my people. I can't do that if I'm dead.
And... even if they don't know it... we're all fighting for the same thing. For our people. Our country. Even if we are enemies - I don't want to kill them. Not if I don't have to.
:Yes.:
But - I - who are you? Kenshin tensed. Why can't I see your face?
:Because you haven't looked, my own...:
"Hahh!" Throwing back the covers, Kenshin sat up in the darkness of his bedroom. Gods, so much blood, so much-
No blood. At least, nothing beyond the faint scent that still clung to Yahiko in the next room over, ki restless as the teen tossed in his own nightmares.
"Uff." Kenshin buried his face in his hands, rubbing his temples as if he could knead out the gruesome images. "Ugh."
:Kenshin?:
"Nan demo nai!"
:Ah.: Wry humor flicked at the dark terrors. :So much nothing, you'll be waking Yahiko if you yell any louder.:
"Ch- d-damn it." Panting, Kenshin ghosted out of his bedroom to the apartment's lone bathroom, easing that door open silent as a drift of wind. Slipped in, closed it - and turned on the lights, before splashing his face liberally with cold water. Just because he could. Just because it was a human thing to do, to need light in the middle of the night….
:Nightmares?:
"As if you didn't know," Kenshin muttered, burying his face in a towel.
:I'm never certain how much you remember on waking. Human or Kin, minds are always tricky.: A hesitation. :And your… images… catch me, as well. There are times I don't realize how much of your memory I've seen until I've already acted on it.:
Kenshin leaned on the counter, looking down at the sheen of light on wet white porcelain. "So many deaths."
:My bearer did what he had to, to survive. As we did today.: A silent sigh. :Kenshin. We create objects with purpose. A hairpin is to adorn. A sword is to slay.:
No, no, he wasn't going to-
:…And a mirror, my own, is to be looked at.:
No!
A chill pain, deep inside. :Is… what I have shaped you to become… so very loathsome?:
Kenshin winced. "I'm not Ward," he whispered. "I don't hate you." But… if I don't look… it's not real. It didn't happen. I'm still me.
:That is your right.: The chill closed on itself, trying not to touch him. :But Yahiko and Kamiya-sensei have not the luxury of mirrors.:
Kenshin sucked in a hurt breath.
:Yahiko is your brother, Kenshin. His ki sense is not strong, not yet; still, he has begun to feel when the world is not as it appears to be. As he can feel the discrepancy between the self you cling to, and the self he can see. And that discrepancy, that sense of pieces unmatched and gaping, in the one person in the world he trusts to protect him….:
It's my life!
:It is.:
Hands gripped the counter, fingertips whitening. He felt the pressure; felt the answering, itching tingle, that meant his claws were about to bite deep into whatever opposed them-
Dropped his shoulders, resigned.
If I keep this up… I'm going to break the sink.
Hell of a thing to explain to the plumber. Much less to a sleepy, grumbling teenager stumbling through the pre-breakfast motions. It was hard enough to get Yahiko to comb that mess in the morning as it was….
Trying not to think of anything else, Kenshin met the mirror's gaze.
:Easy… easy… you are brave, my own, I know you are….:
At least… my eyes are still mine.
Violet as ever; though the easy innocence he'd been used to seemed shadowed now, tempered with the sober knowledge of the darkness that stalked them. The fine-boned, sharp-chinned features were still his; though the cross-shaped scar that had sealed Battousai into his soul cast that shape in starker relief, shaving years from his face even as it warned ordinary souls of peril they would rather not know existed.
Oh gods. I barely look old enough to be looking after myself, much less Yahiko!
:Especially in this city,: Battousai mused, chill slowly loosening. :You see, now, why Sanosuke is so bent on taking you under his wing? It's not that he expects you to fall into Ward's place - it's that you look so perilously young. Like the street-raised Crowley he was, when Captain Sagara was teaching him how to survive-:
I'm going to get carded!
Steel rippled; a soft, stifled chuckle. :I-: Snicker. :-truly can't help that, my own….:
Grumbling some of the words he'd heard from Yahiko under his breath, Kenshin covered his face with his hands, rubbing the headache out of red brows before finger-combing his hair back-
And stopped.
Drawing his fingers down through still-damp strands, Kenshin lifted bright crimson into view. And tried to keep breathing.
Like the dream.
Battousai's mark, this; as much as the scar. Hair like flame, like falling maple leaves; a long fall of scarlet past his shoulders whose comforting weight seemed familiar as worn sneakers.
But I've never had long hair. Ever.
Which made that fall of crimson even more frightening than claws and fangs. It felt right. Right as carrying a sword. As drinking blood….
:We could cut it.:
No! Kenshin shook his head, trying to quell the anger that had flared at that hesitant suggestion. Is that what Ward did to you?
:It was his body.:
But - the weight of our hair - we're used to it. It's part of our balance. Part of feeling the wind as we fight. Part of our fight, distracting the opponent…. Kenshin hesitated, realizing he was stroking damp strands like a rain-spattered kitten.
:Kenshin?:
Ayame and Suzume… thought it was pretty….
Battousai laughed softly at his blush. :And Kaoru-dono might as well? Aa, she might. She might indeed.: A tentative touch. :Is that what you fear?:
I-
Patience, against his trembling. The endless patience of a blade, who knew its very existence meant it would be drawn.
Glancing down, Kenshin lifted his hand, running his thumb over the tops of his claws. Touched his tongue to the back of one fang.
Sadness. :Easier to face the monster than the man.:
"Hai," Kenshin whispered. "I- we were always hidden folk. Always trying to blend with those about us. Yet I - I could not..."
:It's not your fault, my own. Your parents may have followed the path of onmitsu, but that soul is not yours. You are not the laughing courtesan whose eyes watch, unseen by those who assume the painted surface is the truth; you are the whisper of wind, the ghost-step in the night.:
Kenshin winced. A hitokiri.
Battousai let that pass. :So it is being obvious that upsets you?:
An easy answer. He wanted to reach for it, wanted to deny there was anything more to this fear than the breaking of a lifetime's habits of obscurity.
But it would be a lie.
"My mother was beautiful," Kenshin said softly. "She died. I couldn't- I wanted-"
:Beauty, and kindness, and the strength to protect those you loved. All yours. All stolen from you.: Wry amusement touched him, soft as falling snowflakes. :What could any soul do, but want them back?:
Be careful what you wish for. Kenshin's cheeks were on fire; he could feel it. Even Maekawa said... I used to look like Yahiko's brother. But now - I look at him, and I see our father. He looks at me, and sees the ghost of a woman whose life would have meant he was never born. "My mother wasn't a shopkeeper."
:And you are torn between your duty as eldest son to provide for your family, and the steel in your soul my touch has unsheathed. The hitokiri's nature, that wishes to abandon Wonderful Things and hunt Virus to the ends of the earth, so that Yahiko-kun and Kamiya-san will never be threatened again.:
"It's so stupid," Kenshin whispered. "I'm a responsible person, that I am. I love what I do..."
:You were content to live the life you knew. Now, you are not. And that is my fault.:
"Well, you and a certain agency that won't keep Virus out of our financial life unless I back Sano up," Kenshin pointed out, forcing lightness into his tone. "What good would being a simple shopkeeper be if they set the IRS to take the shop out from under us both?"
A quiet laugh. :True, my own. All too true.:
"But since I have met you, I feel as if I have always walked in grays," Kenshin said haltingly. "And now, color waits just off the path I have always taken. It calls to me. Clings to me. And I - I do not wish it to go." Violet closed. "Not even the crimson of bloody rain..."
Thump. Rattle.
Jerking back from the counter, Kenshin breathed away that first, startled panic, and opened the door to a nightmare-shaken ki.
Rubbing heavy-lidded eyes, Yahiko squinted at him. Blinked. Grumbled something incoherent.
Hands raised and peaceful, Kenshin stepped clear of the sink.
Stumbling past, Yahiko splashed his face with water, patting away drops on face and neck. Froze, fingers on the still-pink scars.
"Yahiko, iie!"
Kenshin held his brother tight, gripping the hands that fought to tear more bloody half-moons in skin. "Get it out," Yahiko sobbed. "Get it out-"
"It's gone," Kenshin cut in fiercely, wrapping the boy in his arms. "Do you hear me, Yahiko-kun? It's gone. We killed it." He searched that familiar ki to be certain, licking away the blood to heal the wound. The taste was right, whole; his. "You are ours, and nothing can take you from us!"
"K-Kenshin..."
"It's all right," Kenshin said more gently, hugging him close. "It's all right, Yahiko. You're here, you're safe, I have you..."
The teen clung to him like a storm-swept vine, ear pressed against his heartbeat. "It was just - they were just - taking me apart, a chunk at a time-" Yahiko shivered.
"Maa, maa, Yahiko-kun. Daijoubu." Kenshin smoothed down unruly dark hair. "It's all right. They won't have you, that they will not." Not while I have breath to stop them.
:This is why we kill, when we must,: Battousai said softly. :For Yahiko, and others like him, who want nothing more than to live free of fear. Will you continue to torment yourself for acting to save lives?: A touch in his soul, as if an unseen hand stroked crimson hair. :Or will you accept that you are a swordsman, with the skill to slay when you must, and the strength of soul to avoid death when you can?:
I'll... try...
Kenshin drew a soft breath, listening to his brother's sobs tapering off. "You should get some sleep, that you should," he said matter-of-factly. "You're going with Miss Kaoru to spar under Maekawa-sensei's eyes, after all; and neither of them will pull their blows because one student is lacking in sleep - that they will not."
"Sleep!" Yahiko muttered, gingerly feeling at his throat. "God. You think I could sleep after this..." Fingers touched damp skin, and froze. "You- I thought I felt, but- you- you licked me!"
"You tore at the wound," Kenshin said reluctantly. "I wanted it to heal cleanly." I wanted to be certain you were you. Which you are. I know you. I'll always know you, now...
"Oh, great! You know how many germs there are in a human mouth?"
A wry smile touched Kenshin's lips. "None of mine will harm you."
"Easy for you to-" Yahiko froze. Gulped. Pulled back, just enough to look his brother in the eye. "For real?"
Kenshin nodded.
"How-?"
"I don't know," Kenshin said honestly. "Battousai only knows that what we touch, will not fester. It's likely that within a few weeks there won't even be a scar." Not of body. But of mind... that is not easily healed with just a lick.
:A lick, no. Do you trust me?:
Yes...
Firming his grip on the teen's shoulders, he bent back to that vulnerable neck.
:Gently. Gently...:
Fangs gripped skin, just hard enough to give pressure without pain. Slowly, ever so slowly, he tightened that grip, and eased it; again and again, moving up and down neck and shoulder, covering every inch Virus had violated.
:This is ours. Ours to care for. Ours to protect.
:Our young one...:
Yahiko's shivers slowed, relaxing into a kitten-limp slump in his arms. What had been panicky pants at the first touch of fangs eased to soft, steady breaths, broken only when the boy turned to snuggle into his purr.
Kenshin's brows lifted in amazement. I didn't know you could purr!
:We have to be calm. At peace.: A silent smile. :You help considerably, my own.:
"Kenshin?" Yahiko murmured muzzily. "Feel... all funny..."
Reluctantly, Kenshin lifted away his fangs enough to speak. "You're safe," he said softly. "Now, let's get some sleep."
The teen was a light, drowsy weight in his arms as Kenshin walked into his bedroom. And halted.
I think I may as well burn that bed.
:If we want to sleep lying down without nightmares, I'm afraid it will have to be a futon,: Battousai agreed with a sigh. :I did try. It just feels wrong.:
Will you relax? Kenshin thought sharply, plucking blankets and pillows up to make a nest for them both. If tossing out the bed is the worst thing to happen for the rest of the week, I'll be thrilled.
A slow, wry smile wrapped his soul. :True enough.:
"What'd you do?" Yahiko persisted sleepily as Kenshin settled them against the wall. "Feels warm... tingly..."
"Just a little accupressure," Kenshin murmured back, pulling up the blankets around them. And no small amount of ki manipulation. What did we do?
:Reminded our cub who cares for him,: Battousai said firmly. :I've done it with Sano, in the past. For a time he will be attuned to us. He will draw off our energies to heal, just a little faster than humans heal; he will sense our watchfulness and relax, knowing he is protected. It will wear off soon enough, but the rest of this night, he should sleep without fear.: A hesitation. :Though Yahiko's ki was much easier to encourage in the patterns we wished. And I think it will hold that shaping longer. He is your brother; his ki answers easily to my hand.:
Our cub? Kenshin lifted a curious brow, feeling restlessness smooth into peaceful quiet as Yahiko fell asleep against him.
:I...:
Frowning, Kenshin waited.
:None of my hosts ever had young ones to look after.:
Right; Target Alpha didn't want people taking the blade who'd have to explain what had happened to close family. But why "cub"?
:I don't know,: Battousai admitted reluctantly. :It's just... something I feel.:
Huh. Weird.
But worrying about it isn't going to solve anything, Kenshin told himself firmly. Not tonight.
And Yahiko's not the only one who needs sleep.
After all, he had a moocher planning to show up at the breakfast table tomorrow morning... make that, later this morning. Likely with Target Alpha files in hand.
Or even police files. Brr.
Relax, and sleep, Kenshin told himself forcefully. Detectives Goren and Eames can threaten all they like, but they've found nothing. And there's nothing they will find.
I hope...
---------
"Firecrackers?" Detective Alexandrea Eames raised a blonde brow as her partner bent down to poke through charred ash in a corner of the alley behind Wonderful Things. "Here? Last night?" She blinked against the morning light, automatically tracking a small sound that turned out to be a white-and-gray pigeon fluttering up from a nearby roof edge. "I'm not sure the lieutenant would call this the most productive use of our time."
"You know, you're right," Detective Bobby Goren nodded, gloved hands turning over what looked like a small, blackened circuit board. "It's probably nothing. But, when you look at some back history of reports filed around this area... people around here seem to really like firecrackers." He glanced up.
Alex gave him a look askance. "And exactly how would this tie into the Himura homicides?"
Bobby smiled shyly. "Missing persons reports seem to be up in this area."
"Gunshots," Alex said levelly.
"Which... doesn't explain where the bodies might have gotten to," Bobby shrugged. "Unless, of course, you look at the city plans and find out some of these shops have basements..."
"Really." Detective Eames eyed the battered back door to Wonderful Things. "Looks like somebody wanted in - in a very bad way."
"Kind of... an odd way to do it, though," Goren said thoughtfully, tracing his hand above long gouges; as if someone had raked steel with adamantine fingernails. "If you've got the tools to do this to a fire door, why not just punch the lock?"
Then again...
"New lock," Bobby observed.
"Very new," Alex agreed, studying that brassy brightness. "Last night?"
Her partner shrugged. "Thing is, Wonderful Things doesn't have a basement. But down there..."
Following him down the alley, Alex rattled the handle on another shop's back door, eyeing the yellow Police Line - Do Not Cross tape and seals plastered across the doorway. Recent seals; at least one had been applied over another whose soggy edges hinted it had been broken during last night's rain. "Interesting."
"Zip Electronics." Bobby flipped through his notes. "Owned - well, was owned - by Renfield Paige Orsson. Who just recently turned up as an accidental drug overdose. Coroner made his finding, the body was apparently cremated... and the property is still closed for further investigation."
"Investigation by who?" his partner wondered dryly.
Goren's smile thinned. "Uramura and tBuku."
"Ah, our mystery DEA agents." Alex rolled her eyes. "Are they claiming this is another Spider's Web case?"
"I guess we'll have to ask." Giving the broken seal a last look, Bobby headed back toward the gouged fire door. "You know, even with... firecrackers... going off, this should have made a lot of noise."
"You'd think," Alex nodded. And given someone had noticed enough to replace the lock... "Know anybody who needs a knickknack?"
"I don't sell knickknacks, that I do not."
For a homicide suspect, Himura looked amazingly unruffled by their presence.
Goren tilted his head, studying the redhead standing in the now open doorway. "You have a camera for back here?"
"Pidge had one. I do not."
Then how did you know we were here? Alex wondered. "Pidge?"
"Orsson." Violet saddened. "Agent Sagara... informed me what had happened to him." A wry, fleeting smile touched his face. "You may as well come in, and look about."
"We don't mean to bother you-" Bobby began politely.
"Yes, you do." The smile lasted longer this time. "You mean to be subtle, and not upset one you wish to investigate. Until you wish me to be upset. But I am here, and you are here, and all of us will waste less time if you simply poke about as you wish; that we will." Inclining his head, Himura turned on his heel and walked back inside. Leaving the door open.
"You know, I think we're low on his priority list," Bobby murmured, stepping up to the doorway.
"I think I'm insulted," Alex muttered back, following her partner in. And got her first good look inside. "Then again..."
Himura had obviously cleaned up most of the mess, but something had gotten through his back door. With malice aforethought.
Something that dripped oil? Absently listening to Himura head into the front to answer a customer's questions on porcelain vases, Alex went to one knee on tough linoleum, studying the trace of brown-black stain left behind.
Bobby closed and locked the door, then joined her, right hand braced on the storage shelves to hunker down for a good look. "Almost looks like cast-off."
Alex blinked. Cast-off oil? Liquid shed off a weapon as it moved, as blood would be from any knife or tire iron that broke skin? Sometimes her partner was weird...
But then again, the weirder he got, the more likely he was to be right.
Setting aside her assumptions, she looked at the stain again, looking about for others that might corroborate Bobby's intuitive leap. There... there... and, yes, there. All blurred by cleanser, fading out most of the brown. But the original shapes lingered like ghostly fingerprints; and that ghost was...
Something the size of a tall man, with oil on it, tears open the door. It rushes in - only to be met by someone about Himura's height, swinging a long, blunt object two-handed and overhand. Head hit, shoulder hit; Oil-man falls. Still gripping the weapon, the defender turns and runs.
"There should be blood."
"Who says there isn't?" Alex muttered. "I'll call Crime Scene, get some Luminol down here-"
Bobby shook his head. "If he'd cleaned it up that well, I don't think we'd be able to see this."
True; the kind of scrubbing you needed to take blood out of sight should have smeared cast-off into unreadable blurs. "Oil with blood, maybe," Alex said skeptically. "Oil instead of blood?"
"What can I say? They were serious heavy metal freaks."
As one, the two detectives glanced up at a familiar grinning face. "Agent Sagara," Bobby smiled at the man, buying time for them both to think.
Alex took that moment to look Uramura's co-worker over, from the red headband tying back Sanosuke Sagara's rooster-wild dark hair, past the black-trimmed white jacket, down to the white slacks and duct-tape-decked sneakers. I'd hate to see where he goes in undercover. Scuttlebutt said one of the reason's tBuku's branch of the DEA was so off-the-books and paranoid was because they walked into some of the most lethal dives in the city, up to and including the little-known Death Row. Whole rock bands had sauntered into that place and never come out. And Homicide's never been able to come up with a shred of evidence, even when we know that's the last place anyone saw them - alive...
"So, you heard about this incident?" Bobby went on.
"Oh, I was here; that's why you guys didn't get the call," Sagara said easily. "Whole bunch of jerks trying to bring new meaning to Walk Like an Egyptian." He shrugged, hands in his pockets. "Or at least, that's what I'm guessing they were up to. They didn't say much."
Alex traded a subtle glance with her partner. "So you saw how they broke in."
"Not really," the agent admitted. "They must have taken their toys with them when they booked out of here. Kenshin swings a mean bokken."
Kenshin, hmm? "You seem to be a pretty good terms with Mr. Himura," Alex stated, keeping her voice light and interested. "Oh, I'm sorry, that would be Mr. Noguchi..."
"No, it's Himura," Sagara said matter-of-factly. "Look. Thomas and Eileen Noguchi may have pulled some serious wool over people's eyes seventeen years ago, but their kid's paperwork is legal. Until and unless Kenshin decides to change it - and between you, me, and the wallpaper, I don't think he will - he's Kenshin Himura."
"Why wouldn't he change it?" Alex wondered. "He doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who wants to go around lying to people. Even by implication."
She could all but see Bobby's hidden smile.
Sagara didn't bother trying to hide a wry roll of eyes. "Look, you know and I know Himura's one of the good guys. Can't you just let sleeping justifiable homicide cases lie?"
"That's kind of odd. That you would say he's one of the good guys, I mean," Bobby spoke up, studying the agent. "Someone like yourself, in our line of work... after all, you've only known him - how long? A week?"
"What, you never met someone and felt like you'd known 'em forever?" Sagara shrugged. "Besides, he's picking it up fast."
"He's assisting in your investigation?" Alex's brows climbed. "Orsson's death was Spider's Web, then."
"You know I'm not the guy to talk to about that," Sagara said levelly.
"Well, someone's going to have to talk to us, sometime," Bobby spread casual hands. "Just in case our jurisdictions cross and - you know, in case we end up picking up someone you really need left alone..."
"Well, if you guys had to pick 'em up, it wouldn't look right if you didn't, right?" Sagara's grin would have fit right in on a Hell's Angel in the middle of a bar-fight. "You done here?"
Alex traded a subtle glance with her partner. "We'll see you around."
Sagara nodded. "We'll be waiting."
"We will, hmm?" Alex muttered as they worked their way back down the alley. "Pretty fast to step in for an innocent civilian."
"Sagara's legally adopted." Bobby's eyes were bright and guileless. "According to the records - which there aren't many of - he lost his family, and his memory, when he was a kid. Some kind of massive bus accident. No way to pick out who they were, or even who he was. At least, not then. Though there might be now, if someone saved the DNA. Which they probably didn't, if it was an accident..."
Sometimes, her partner made no sense whatsoever. At least at first glance. Sagara doesn't know who he was, and Himura didn't know who he was- "Don't tell me they're long-lost cousins."
"No, no; I don't think related, exactly," Bobby said thoughtfully, hands in his trenchcoat pockets. "They don't look that much alike. Even Himura's photo, before he had red hair, didn't. But connected... we still don't have real detail on Thomas Noguchi's history. Yet."
Yet. Definitely yet. But something else about her partner's observation jumped out at her. "You mean, before he dyed it red."
"Did it look dyed?"
Alex's first impulse was to say yes; no one went from brown to red overnight-
And then she thought about it, with the expertise of one who'd seen people in every stage of life, and death, from the velvet draping of high society to the gutter-glitter of streetwalkers. Dye, even really good dye, gave hair an odd sameness, without the myriad shades and imperfections of natural color.
Himura's wasn't dye-red. It was flame-red, living scarlet pulled back into a semi-tame ponytail. It glimmered. Drew the eye. Fit, with that exotic violet gaze, in a way plain brown never would have. "Huh."
"It's probably nothing," Bobby admitted.
"Like the firecrackers," Alex shrugged. And traded a smile with her partner, both knowing what the other wasn't saying.
But this was New York, and they had other cases to work. Homicides with a lot more evidence, and a lot more official heat, than a couple of probable self-defense bodies of known lowlifes.
Himura would have to wait.
---------
Sanosuke rolled a kink out of his shoulders, waiting for the shop's front door to swing shut behind the expensively-frowsy woman with her new replica Ming vase. "How much of that did you hear?"
"All of it, I think." Kenshin gave him a wary look. "Pidge's death is being explained as due to a drug?"
Yeah, I don't like it either. But what could they do? Tell the cops he'd been done in by bad guys straight from a Trekkie convention? "Spider's Web is Kin-based. And it saves us a lot of questions." Like why we had to torch the body. Target Alpha was pretty sure you had to have a living Virus to Infect another hapless bystander. But pretty sure wasn't one hundred percent certain, and when it came to a kind of Kin that might be taking part of its essence straight out of humanity's recent nightmares... well, some of the things TV had had the Borg do lately made anything short of obliterating a dead Virus way too risky, in Sano's book.
And speaking of book. Sano grinned at Kenshin.
"No."
"I didn't say anything," Sano said innocently.
"And I'm hoping you don't, that I am," Kenshin said dryly.
"It's just for fun..."
"Children learn by example," Kenshin pointed out. "I have a younger brother to think of. Who's already learned a few too many words from your example, that he has. No!"
"I didn't say take him with us," Sano said patiently. Scratched his head. "Though that might not be a bad idea, you can never start learning how to handle these wiseguys too young-"
"Sano!"
"We don't know what Virus wants, but we know it had a good grip on that Root Magic," the agent shrugged. "Falconi thinks it's part of a larger network; maybe some way of accessing a whole pool of magic. If it is, then somebody mislaid a coven's worth of Witches. Even in New York, you don't see that every day. Someone somewhere has got to know something. And if you want to put an ear to the ground to hear a whole bunch of somethings, gambling in the back rooms is a good place to start." Sano grinned. "Plus with 'Sai along, we usually walk out with the expense cash we walked in with." If not a little more, depending on how playful the sakabatou was feeling. Play that could turn downright vicious if some sore loser of a Kin tried to manipulate the dice too obviously. Battousai might not be fond of gambling, but he had no compunctions about shearing a cheat right down to the skin.
Kenshin was shaking his head. "I'm not that kind of person, that I am not!"
Which is exactly why I want to start you off there, instead of throwing you to the sharks in a place like Death Row, Sano thought practically. You're Kin now. You need to get used to working around these bastards without stabbing them through the heart. No matter how much some of them deserve it. "I know what that Root Magic feels like. If we run into a trace of it, we can see what it links to; if not, we still might hear something that traces back to Virus," he said patiently. "Look. I know it's not how you planned to spend tonight, but I know you can do this." I hope.
"Sano-"
The front doorbell rang.
Kenshin sighed silently. "Can I help you?"
"We'll see." Gray eyes narrowed above a dark suit that likely cost more than Sano made in a week. "Mr. Lantham has a standing order with this establishment for custom stationary?" His tone doubted there was any such thing.
"Yes, he does," Kenshin nodded, heading behind the counter. "I'll need to see some ID."
Lantham? Why do I know that name? Sano made himself unobtrusive by a wall display. Battousai's memory was better than his, if 'Sai wanted to remember something; better to sit tight, for now, and watch how his partner would handle this.
At the moment, 'Sai seemed content to linger behind Kenshin's eyes, watching the snippy suit turn pretty colors. "For paper?" the suit ground out.
"Well, I'm certain you wouldn't want Mr. Lantham's custom order going to someone else by mistake..."
Frowning, Sano centered himself, reaching out for how magic looked in the world. Aha.
And if he could see that malevolent dark purple aura around the suit, Battousai definitely would have sensed it.
Tastes like magic, not just Kin. A Sorcerer.
Which jarred that nagging almost-memory into a case-file in his head: Victor Lantham, AKA Herbert Rush, AKA Hieronymous. Low to mid-level sorcerer in Black Solstice, one of the more annoying of many, many groups obsessed with taking over the world.
Probably 'cause the idiots can't get a date any other way, Sano thought wryly.
Known demon-summoner, at least two counts of rape using Compel, suspected in a half-dozen homicides, consider armed and dangerous, terminate with prejudice. Yep. Definite sleazeball. And not one they'd met, or Sano would have left a meteorite bullet in the bastard's heart to make sure he died the True Death.
This guy wasn't Lantham. But his aura didn't look much more human. So what are you up to?
"Smythe," Kenshin murmured, opening a small blue notebook and running his finger down a list of names. "I'm sorry, sir, you're not on the list. Mr. Lantham will have to send someone else, or come in himself."
"But you see my ID."
A ripple in violet; Sano held his breath. He'd seen Battousai resist magic before, but there was always a first time.
"And I see you are not on the list," Kenshin said levelly, closing the notebook. "Is there anything else I can help you with? If you are interested in that type of handmade paper, I can place an order. Though that may take some time; paper mulberry with organic dyes is very popular-"
At which point the idiot wizling tried something even dumber than a Compel: grabbing Battousai.
There's going to be blood all over the walls.
But Kenshin only looked at the hand gripping his shoulder, and sighed. "One does hope you've determined that will not work, that I do."
Still obviously trying to Drain, the suit's grip only tightened. "You're not a Herd!"
"Whaddya know. A sorcerer who can see the obvious," Sano said lightly, cracking his knuckles. "Now, Smythe - or whoever you really are - my partner's a really nice guy. He'd probably be just as happy if you let go, said you're sorry, and walked right out that door. Me?" Sano grinned, shark-like. "I get a little touchy when somebody tries to munch on my friends."
Smythe smirked back. And grabbed for the register.
Bastard's trying to power up a Con-Ed-
A fist and a hilt hit him at once.
"Ow, damn it!" Sano shook out his stinging hand as Smythe's eyes crossed and the suit crumpled. He'd hit bricks that felt softer. "Must have had a Deflection up." He caught Kenshin's puzzled frown. "What?"
"Deflection." Kenshin's eyes were distant as he came out from behind the counter; probably checking with Battousai. "It is like most Kin's Armor, hai?"
"Yeah." Only you couldn't cut through it with anything other than a meteorite. "So?"
"Why did it not stop me?"
Locking cuffs on Smythe's wrists, Sano shrugged. "How should I know?" He leaned the dazed wizling against the counter and dug into his jacket pockets for his bane kit. Silver needles... ironwood soaked in garlic... ah. Grinning, he waved a silk-wrapped shred of meteorite in front of Smythe's eyes, and was rewarded with a heartfelt gulp.
Locking the bit of space rock into the bane-box on the handcuffs, Sano stepped away and lowered his voice so they wouldn't be overheard. "Why are you even asking? Battousai's enchanted. Armor doesn't even slow him down. Never has."
"Battousai," Kenshin said plainly, "is a blade, Sano. Not a hilt."
"What do you mean he's-" Sano stopped, remembering those few times he'd cleaned the daisho. You didn't just wipe off the edge, not if you were being thorough. You took the sword apart; hilt, tsuba, and all. Depending on how nasty the night had been, you might even have to replace everything but the blade. Ward had had to replace Battousai's tsuba, at least once.
"The blade is enchanted," Kenshin agreed. "But what struck him was not." He glanced aside. "Though perhaps I am fretting too much over something that does not matter. Yahiko would say so, I know."
Maybe. Maybe not. Battousai was different in Kenshin's hands.
Not a comforting thought.
Later. Right now - slimebag. "So." He raised his voice enough for the handcuffed idiot to hear. "You pressing charges on this guy?"
"Don't be idiotic," Smythe sneered. "What would you possibly tell them?"
Red bangs fell forward, hiding violet. "I might tell them nothing." The voice was chill, dispassionate. "Save that I found your cooling body abandoned behind my door."
Smythe stiffened. Started to speak-
Stopped, looking at the slight man in front of him.
Sano hid a smirk of his own, watching the calculation in gray eyes. You can almost hear the gears grind, he thought wryly. Yep; red hair, claws, samurai sword, Kin that's up and about in daylight-
Smythe's face was puzzled. "What are you?"
Sano blinked. "How long have you been in town? C'mon, he's-"
A twitch of Kenshin's hand stopped him. Red bangs fell aside, revealing a steel-blue gaze. "I take it you've not met many Rakshasa, that you haven't."
The sorcerer's head jerked toward the golden light streaming through the front windows. "But - it's-"
"Interesting, how easy it is to get UV-proof glass these days."
Sano held his brows down, even when they wanted to bounce up in pure surprise. A real out-of-towner, if he buys that one. Though it wasn't a bad bluff on Battousai's part. Rakshasa weren't common. Even a well-rounded sorcerer might not know more than that they were a kind of Asian vampire with permanent claws. Smooth, 'Sai. Now we know he's not Solstice.
Steel-blue didn't waver. "I do not favor one customer over another, Smythe. Nor do I allow one to interfere with another."
Smythe smirked. "You'll change that tune, soon enough. When Kanryuu-" his mouth shut, as if an unseen hand had locked it.
Which one just might have, Sano knew. Black Solstice used Omerta spells. Stood to reason anyone who thought they could cross them would as well.
"Perhaps," Kenshin said softly, as if he hadn't noticed. "But not today." He gestured toward the door. "Go."
Sano unlocked the cuffs, and stepped back. Make one wrong move, bozo. I dare you.
"I wouldn't stand in his way, if I were you." Smythe deliberately straightened his shirt cuffs. "One Kin, and a human..."
Kenshin smiled. "I believe that is what Virus thought, last night."
Smirk slipping, Smythe edged out the door.
Kenshin buried his head in his hands the moment the sorcerer was out of sight, taking a shuddering breath.
"It's okay." Sano kept his voice low, reassuring, even as he marked by eye exactly where Smythe had laid his hands on the counter. He'd have to go out to the car for his fingerprint kit. Not that most Kin were in the system, but you never knew. They might get lucky. "You did good, Kenshin. You did fine."
"I didn't know," Kenshin said softly. "I didn't know. If I'd known, I would have - oh gods, Sano, he's done such horrible things, and it's my fault..."
Huh? They'd never seen Smythe before in their lives-
Oh. Hells. I'm an idiot.
One thing a lot of Target Alpha agents had never gotten was, there were two sets of memories at work in his partner. Battousai's, and his bearer's. And 'Sai had said more than once there were limits to what he could deliberately drag up in his host's memory, and vice-versa. Until one of them thought about something, the other might not even know he knew it.
Kenshin had a standing order for Lantham. Just another piece of Wonderful Things' business. Too ordinary to even think about. Until now.
Handmade paper. Just the kind of thing you want for writing Deeds, Sano thought grimly, looking at Kenshin's horrified pallor. And Battousai's read Lantham's file. "Go find Kaoru."
"But- the shop-"
"Will still be standing when you get back," Sano cut him off. Though he was starting to have his doubts about that. He'd read up on Wonderful Things' history since he'd found out who Kenshin Himura was; through all the decades Target Alpha had watched it serve the human and Kin community, there had never been an instance of Kin attacking the shop owner. Ever.
But since Jin-e came through, this place has been a demilitarized zone, Sano realized. What the heck happened? It's not like the local Elementals just up and vanished; they're still blurring Edge-use around here. They're just - not protecting Kenshin anymore...
Nasty thought. Very nasty. And not one he wanted to poke at with a still-reluctant partner trying not to shake himself to pieces. "Go find Kaoru," Sano said, more gently. "You know how much trouble Jou-chan and your brother can get into." He glanced at the sheathed blade. "'Sai, get him moving."
"Sanosuke!"
"It wasn't your fault," the agent said bluntly. "You didn't know. But now you do. And maybe I haven't known you that long, Kenshin, but I know Battousai. I know he wouldn't have picked you if you were the kind of guy who could just shake this off and keep going like nothing happened." He waved a hand toward the door. "So go. Get out of here. Go think. And do it somewhere Jou-chan can pick up the pieces."
Almost involuntarily, Kenshin moved toward the front door. Stopped almost on the threshold, fists clenched. "I've killed people, Sano." And I never knew, that desolate tone said. I should have known.
"If they didn't buy it from you, they'd have gotten it from somebody else," Sano stated. "Deeds don't kill people. Idiot spell-casters kill people."
"I would I could believe that, that I do."
Swift as thought, he was gone.
"Don't let him do anything stupid, 'Sai," Sano murmured. "Damn, if I could just be in two places at once..."
Then again, if he was reading that flinch right, Kenshin wouldn't see Sanosuke right now. He'd see yet another cold-blooded Target Alpha field agent, willing and able to deal with the dark side of Kin nature without so much as raising an eyebrow. No; if he really wanted his partner in one semi-sane piece, he was probably the last guy who should be anywhere near Kenshin. Any field agent would be.
Any field agent. A wry grin spread over Sano's face as he pulled his cell phone out and hit speed-dial. "Hey, Itachi-jou! Want to come onto the island for a bit?"
"Don't call me weasel girl!"
---------
Translations and info:
Aa - informal yes.
Armor - a Kin Edge that can reduce damage from most sources, except something the Kin is magically vulnerable to.
Bakufu - "tent government"; the shogunate.
Chounin - townsfolk.
Compel - street magic spell to control another's actions.
Con-Ed - magical lightning strike.
Daijoubu - It's all right.
Deed - written agreement binding a Demon to perform one service for a spellcaster.
Deflection - spell to create a wall of magical force.
Drain - to take energy - lifeforce, blood, whatever - from another being.
Edge - a supernatural ability, such as Claws or Mesmerize (mind control). Noun and verb.
Edokko - "child of Edo"; the city now called Tokyo.
Hai - yes.
Hari - "strength of character".
Herd - human.
Hitokiri - "manslayer".
Iie - no.
Iki - "refinement".
Maa, maa - "easy; calm down".
Nan demo nai - "It's nothing."
Omerta - spell to prevent a member of an organization from disclosing secrets.
Onmitsu - spy, spies.
Rakshasa - Asian vampire subspecies with poison claws.
The Death Row - a nightclub run by a malicious Kin called Razor.
Tsuba - hilt guard.
Ubo - Japanese vampire subspecies that changes into a butterfly instead of a bat or wolf, and is compelled to wear white.
Wizling - minor magic user.