Crescent Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Remedy ❯ Investigations ( Chapter 3 )

No Title Yet. Seriously. How Hard Is It to Think Up a Title? Apparently Hard.

Chapter 3: Investigations

Music blared as Keiko returned to the campground. The band was practicing a few head-bangers, though they would start with a ballad or something like that.

“You're looking a bit frazzled,” a voice said as she stepped out of the caravan.

Hokuto stood at the bottom of the stairs, his arms crossed. She was in no mood for games, but, by the look on his face, neither was he.

“What do you want?” she asked crossly.

“You were out all day,” he answered, “I was worried.”

“Sweet,” she muttered sarcastically.

“A few detectives were around today.”

She started and turned to face him. “Why would there be detectives running around?”

“I'm not completely sure.” Hokuto placed an arm around her shoulder and she shrugged him off. “I have a hunch it's to do with Mutsura's death. Someone might've said more than he needed about that.”

“Why would they be interested in an animal attack?”

“There has seemed to be a rash of so called `animal attacks,' and they have reason to believe it might not be what we thought.”

“Whatever,” she stopped at the food stand and motioned to the vendor. He recognized her and grabbed a soda for her.

“Right then. If they ask any questions-”

“I'll tell them what I know, or at least what you told me. You're not trying to hide anything, are you?” She patted him on the head and took her soda.

He frowned. Something crashed on the stage and he turned with a groan.

“These guys are as incompetent as they are bad,” he sighed and ran off.

Keiko sipped her soda and watched him go. So maybe she knew more than anyone else did. Apparently the guy Mahiru had been talking to was not stingy on who he killed. Still, if a bunch of detectives were asking questions, she wasn't quite sure on how she felt about that. And an investigation would hold up the carnival for a while longer, especially if murder was suspected.

A crowd had gathered now, mostly teens in black or the occasional `normal' person considering sticking around to see what the band was like. The biggest crowd was on Saturday, though Friday's group was usually decent, though when they played on Sunday a few people came, unless it was summer, and the same couple hundred came every day to prove they could party. Drinking was prohibited, but that didn't mean a bunch of underage teenagers would sneak in stolen alcohol and get themselves drunk. Still, it brought in plenty of business, and a little extra money was never a bad thing.

The band was bound to cast a glamour to make themselves sound better. No one would like them otherwise. (How do you think Britney Spears or N*Sync got so big?) They could do it discretely enough: a quick symbol over the mike and across their mouths. No one would notice it. Unless of course someone had a defense against a glamour set up, but that was unlikely. No one believed in magick anymore, even if they paid ten bucks for their fortune to be told.

In the midst of her thoughts, she noticed the detectives. They were doing a pitiful job of blending in with the crowd; they wore large brown trench coats and wide hats as if they were in an old 50s mystery. Even if they'd just worn black coats instead they would've blended in better, as almost every gothic male in the crowd had a black leather (or not) trench coat in which they either pretended to or actually did hide bottles of beer in.

There were two detectives, or at least that's how many she saw. The tall one looked gruff and unshaven while the shorter seemed younger and more apprehensive of their position. Perhaps he could see how easily they stood out while the other continued on, regarding every person with a suspicious glance.

They walked straight up to her.

“Can I help you?” she asked with strained politeness.

“You work here?” the taller one said.

“Yes, I'm the psychic. Is there something you need?”

“We're here to inquire about the death of Mutsura Hayashi.”

“Might I learn your names first? I'd like to identify who I'm speaking with.”

“Alright then. I'm Detective Kimiteru Kusakabe, and this is my partner Youhei Nishino.”

“Lovely,” she muttered under her breath. This man probably didn't know the meaning of tactfulness. “What do you need to know?”

“Anything,” the detective said, “We've gotten no leads on who might've murdered him.”

“Have you considered the possibility,” she said almost too politely, “that you just have an animal problem?”

The detective frowned. “Listen here,” he started angrily, “Do you think I'm an idiot? There's been too many of these so called `animal attacks' for it to be just a stray wolf.”

“A pack of wolves then,” she offered with a smile.

“Look, you little-”

“What my partner means to say,” Nishino interjected quickly, “is that it's only been as of late that these attacks have been popping up. And most of them were too close to villages for them to be animal attacks. If a wolf is gonna attack it's going to be in its territory which is most likely been moved if it's near a settlement.”

“Makes sense,” Keiko mused, “But have you considered the possibility that these nearby villages have caused a great decline in food source causing them to braver so they venture closer to the villages?”

“I didn't come here to be lectured on the behavior of wild animals,” Detective Kusakabe growled. “What do you know about Mutsura Hayashi death?”

“Oh, nothing you haven't already heard,” she smiled, “I need to be off. Nice talking with you, detective.” With a faux wave she walked off, leaving the detective to stew in his frustration.

The band, having fixed everything, struck up a mellow-sounding song, and a few of the gathered crowd began to sway to the tune. Keiko sighed and attempted to avoid the crowd on her way to the next concession stand. As she squirmed through a particularly gothic group, she came face-to-face with Akira.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Uh, hey,” she said uncertainly.

“Yo,” he muttered. His usual cheerfulness seemed dampened by something. (She couldn't imagine what.)

“You here to listen to the band play?” she asked. Her mind was forcing her to make small talk. Why? Why did she even bother with herself?

He smiled softly. “We had to sneak out. Couldn't resist. Mahiru's keeping us on a tight leash…”

She couldn't imagine who the `us' was if not Mahiru? But she could imagine him with a leash around his neck and possibly cute puppy dog ears and a tail. Quickly she shook the thoughts from her head, blushing slightly.

“Um, I have to…” she pointed behind him and he blinked, quickly stepping out of the way.

“See ya `round then,” he said, waving and walked off.

Keiko groaned and hit her head with the palm of her hand. This would bug her for forever. (Knowledge could never be taken away, and unsure knowledge was the worst of its kind.)

She raised her hands and got a glance of the detectives working their way through the crowds.

Maybe… Maybe it wouldn't hurt to start an investigation of her own.

Author(ess) Notes:

That should whet your appetite for what's to come. Plenty of excitement ahead. Who else do I need to add?

Akira on a leash… /drool/

So, yeah, there's chapter three. Hopefully I can get a move on for the exciting parts.