InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Blood Contract ❯ Whispers ( Chapter 2 )

The cool air of Angelus’s interior washed over Miroku as he pushed inside, but he barely noticed the change in atmosphere.

Sango. His mind dwelled on her, whispering her name like the soft song of the sirens he’d accused the women of being. That was no surprise; his encounters with the lovely Detective Sango always left him faintly confounded. He was never sure whether to be amused or offended at her continued, sometimes violent rebuff of his advances. Even more confounding? He enjoyed them—them, and every self-righteous huff, expressive gesture and irritated twitch that moved the fine detective's delectable body.

For the past month, they’d been working closely together on security issues for the upcoming trade expansion talks between the youkai and human governments--her as lead police detective, he as government liaison for the loosely networked human mediator families. It was a position he’d balked at initially; playing babysitter for visiting youkai dignitaries, even if it was part of an effort to open up interaction between the two species, was not his standard modus operandi. He was used to having the freedom of a lone agent, with the privilege of easy movement between the territories. He preferred it that way. Still, he was flexible, and his father had deemed him the only one for the job, so he’d settled in for a long, slightly boring stint in the capital.

He’d changed his mind when he’d walked into his temporary government office and met his contact: the leggy, short-skirted, luscious Detective Hoshinuma. She was, he’d realized after only a few days, damn good at her job: sharp, reliable and with good instincts, besides being sexy as everything in every level of hell. She was also a strong woman, as he’d found out after more than one close meeting with her right hook. A jewel quite befitting of the Hoshinuma name, and Miroku had found himself quite thoroughly in lust and not nearly as unamused as he’d expected to be on this particular assignment.

It was just such a shame that she didn’t seem willing to oblige him with anything more than some verbal sparring. He knew she was interested; that adorable pink blush colored her cheeks every time he threw even a hint of a tease at her. She was just so damn stubborn. Which was also, interestingly enough, a characteristic of the Hoshinuma family.

A droll smile quirked the edges of his mouth as he glanced around the restaurant’s interior.

“Can I help you, sir?”

He blinked at the host, a young man with a polite smile, a nice dress jacket, and polished shoes, and gave a polite nod in return. “My name is Sakurai. I’m meeting someone here.”

The young man’s face lit up in recognition and…relief? “Ah, yes. Takeda-san has already arrived and is waiting at your table.”

The name brushed over him with a wisp of surprise. “Takeda?”

“Yes.” The host swept a low bow. “Please follow me, Sakurai-san.”

Plagued by a sudden suspicion, Miroku obediently followed the host through Angelus’s lush interior, past potted greenery and sleek white columns, and always with the spectacular view of the ocean just beyond the windows. Miroku had always liked Angelus for the relative privacy it afforded its guests; for all its openness to the water and the coast, the interior décor was scattered about in a pleasant arrangement that granted its customers a certain amount seclusion no matter where they sat. Perfect for discreet business meetings, especially those called a mere hour in advance by one’s father. Of course, usually one expected surprise meetings called by one’s father to be attended by one’s father.

So why was he meeting with a member of the Takeda family?

They passed by another column, and Miroku spotted the Takeda in question, sitting in a rounded booth against the back wall. His expensive suite was in disarray, as usual, and he was cheerfully feeding a tasty-looking morsel to the tiny white monkey sitting on his shoulder.

Miroku sighed. “Nobunaga, huh?”

Just as they came into view, Takeda looked up and caught sight of them, and his young, earnest features lifted in a welcoming smile. He stood and waved, the action so quick that if he had been sitting in a chair, it would have gone tumbling over.

“Sakurai-san! Over here!”

Miroku noticed the half-flinch from the host, and smiled. “My compliments on the choice of location,” he murmured, lifting a hand to wave back. “It was very wise of you to choose such a sturdy…er, setting.”

The younger man turned his head and offered a wan smile back. “We sat him at a table first, but he managed to knock over his chair three times and trip two servers in the span of ten minutes. We thought, perhaps, moving to a less-traveled area would be best for this particular customer.”

Miroku allowed himself a chuckle. “Yes, very wise indeed. And…the monkey?”

The host gave an uncomfortable laugh. “Seeing as how this is the Prime Minister’s nephew, we thought it best not to object. And, as it turns out, the monkey has actually managed to prevent him from breaking a few dishes, so he is more than welcome.”

“Just as well. You would have had a hard time separating Nobunaga from Hyoshimaru.” Giving a little shake of his head, Miroku stopped and bowed to the host, letting him know that he needed no further assistance. “My thanks.”

His escort nodded and headed gratefully back for the front, and Miroku took a deep breath and called up a reserve of patience for the young man currently babbling from the booth.

“Sakurai-san! Thank you for coming on such short notice. I hope you don’t mind,” he gestured at the array of steaming dishes arranged on the table. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering some food.”

“Nobunaga. Hyoshimaru.” Miroku gave a brief bow in greeting to both the man and the monkey (who stared at him with bug eyes while chomping on another piece of meat), then slid into the other end of the booth. He looked over the seafood carefully before taking a few helpings for his empty plate. “The food is quite acceptable, thank you. How is your family? Is your father well?”

Nobunaga laughed and ran a self-conscious hand through the neatly cut black strands of his hair. “My mother is quite well, thank you, and my father is due out of the hospital any day now.” He looked vaguely sheepish. “It was only a trip down the stairs, after all. Barely anything broke anyway. However….” He drew a deep breath and bowed low over the table. “Uncle sends his greatest respects to the Sakurai family, as well as all the mediator families for whom they act.”

Miroku’s chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth; he felt his smile stiffen just a bit, and had to force it to relax. “On behalf of the mediator families, the Sakurai thank the Prime Minister for his respects, and extend our own.”

Nobunaga nodded, his brow tensing uncomfortably. “Given the state of the relationship between the government and the mediators, I thank you for that, Sakurai-san. It means very much to us that the mediators continue to work with Uncle’s administration.”

Nobunaga’s uncle, Seikai Takeda, was in his second term as Prime Minister of the Human Territories of Japan. He was also at political odds with the mediator families. The Takeda administration had always been a bit hesitant in regards to opening interaction with the Youkai Territories; still, the mediators and the government had managed to work together despite their differences. Takeda’s re-election, however, had made him arrogant, and the restrictions regarding youkai visitors and goods had been steadily increasing in recent years.

The real break between the administration and the mediators had come early the previous year. The mediator families had announced the upcoming trade talks, lauding them as an opportunity to increase the cooperation of a Japan too long divided. To them, brokering agreement from both sides had represented the epitome of generations of effort.

Prime Minister Takeda had balked. His administration’s attitude had taken a radical turn towards hostility, despite high public support for the talks on both sides of the Barrier. This, in turn, had led to a heavy strain on territorial relations that had only begun to improve in the past few decades. Needless to say, the mediators were displeased, and the strife between the centuries-old mediator families and the popular, though increasingly anti-youkai, Prime Minister was the subject of mass speculation, both public and private.

Miroku sighed, feeling a bit wry. “The tradition of collaboration between the mediators and the governments is still honored for a reason. For now, at least, the mediators see more benefit in dealing with the Prime Minister than in openly warring against him.”

“Yes. Again, I thank you and your family on behalf of me and mine. And as always, you have our full support.” Nobunaga folded his hands and bowed his head low over the table. “As long as we continue to work together, we have a chance of changing Uncle’s mind about the trade expansion. I know it.”

Miroku sat back and gave the younger man across from him an appraising look. Either Nobunaga had deliberately called the old friendship between the Sakurai and Nobunaga’s branch of the Takeda into play as a shrewd political ploy, or the thanks had been a genuine, openhearted acknowledgement of their families’ mutual history. Knowing Nobunaga as he did, he was inclined to think it the latter.

Nobunaga’s family was an offshoot of the Takedas, apart from the main branch and only distantly influential with the Prime Minister; but it was Nobunaga’s family, and their inherent purity of heart, who had won Seikai Takeda mediator support during his first term. In the current political climate, Nobunaga’s branch was the only thing that kept the mediators from throwing their political heft in direct opposition of the Takeda administration, despite its recent aggressiveness towards the mediator cause. And Takeda knew it, which was why he always sent either Nobunaga or his father to meet with mediator representatives.

A gentle, genuine smile quirked the edges of his mouth. “It’s too bad, Nobunaga, that you are only an aide. The process would benefit greatly from having someone with your spirit in charge.”

The response from across the table was a grin. “Don’t worry. I may be only an aide, but I’ll still do what I can to help reunite the territories. Opening up the borders and expanding trade on the water routes will give all of Japan greater autonomy than it has ever had before.” His dark eyes glinted with enthusiasm. “Imagine, not having to pay the exorbitant export fees to route goods and communications through mainland China. Imagine allowing youkai tourists to travel the Human Territories as freely as the humans would like to do with the Youkai Territories.”

Miroku’s mouth quirked up again. “The Youkai Territories are very dangerous, Nobunaga. The laws and traditions over there are very different from our own.”

“All the more reason to explore and understand them!” Two spots of high, bright color shone in his cheeks at the thought.

“You have high expectations from mere trade talks, Nobunaga.” Still, Miroku was amused. For all his apparent idiocy and clumsiness, Nobunaga was one of the most sincere, unaffected people that Miroku had ever met. In the world they lived in, where most put up facades and plotted and grabbed selfishly at whatever they could get, his very presence was refreshing.

And that thought, of course, brought him back to the reason he was sitting in a restaurant with a hapless young man instead of enticing his reluctant detective into a dinner date. He set his chopsticks down and rested his fingertips together. “Not that I’m not enjoying the delicious meal, but I am curious to know why I am eating it with a Takeda aide when it was my father who called me here?”

The smile dropped away from Nobunaga’s face. The somber, almost guarded look that replaced it startled Miroku. Nobunaga set down his chopsticks and pushed his plate to Hyoshimaru, who chirped happily at the half-eaten offering, then reached down and lifted a dark briefcase up onto the table from the seat beside him. “Ah. Yes, well, your father is actually with Uncle at the moment, and he will stay there until he is relieved by Monk Miyatsu, who should be in the capital within the hour.”

Miroku felt a dark shadow of concern settle in his chest as he watched the younger man fiddle with the case’s combination lock. A faint tension drew the muscles of his back and face tight. “And why,” he drew out, “is my grandfather is coming to Tokyo?” Monk Miyatsu detested the city; he preferred to spend the majority of his time at the main family estates near Mt. Fuji, and only came into the city when something significant required him to be there.

“Well--” The briefcase popped open. The papers inside, of course, scattered all over the table. “Ah!” Nobunaga jumped to assemble the papers in some form of order.

Miroku watched him calmly, impatience bubbling up from his gut. He drew a deep breath and sighed it out in a conscious effort to release his tension, then plucked up one of the papers from the table. The official mediator seal on the front caught his eye. It was a signed contract giving him the right to speak and act as a representative of the mediator families…and granting him access to their accumulated wealth for any purpose he deemed necessary. His dark eyebrows hitched. “Nobunaga, I think it’s time you explained the purpose of this meeting.”

“Ah…yes. Your grandfather is intending to take up a position as advisor to Uncle while you’re away. Your father has already taken over your liaison duties.” He managed to gather the papers together within a manila envelope. “You’re being reassigned.”

“What?” A flash of long, thick black hair and a luxuriously rounded bottom had concern nipping at the edges of his mind. His spine snapped straight and he plucked the folder from Nobunaga’s hands. “Why am I being pulled from the liaison position? My father was very clear that the families wanted me to be the chief representative for the talks.”

“The families have changed their mind,” Nobunaga said, his tone grave as he watched Miroku flip open the folder. “They believe your services as a mediator will be better used elsewhere. Uncle agrees.”

“You uncle?” His brow wrinkled “Why is the Prime Minister involved?” On the very top of the papers in front of him lay an official government travel pass--to a private island about four hundred miles off the pacific coast of Japan. Miroku frowned and studied the man in front of him with increasing perplexity. “This is Mimisenri’s Island.”

A strange look passed over Nobunaga’s face. “Yes. You’ve heard of it?”

“Anyone who’s spent any time in the business community knows of Mimisenri, and his Island. It’s the most exclusive pleasure park in the world. You can get anything your heart desires while there--as long as you can pay the price for it. Most of the time, the only way to even be allowed on the Island is by private invitation, and those are only extended to those with big enough bank accounts.” Miroku paused. “I’ve been there…once or twice. It’s quite a place.”

“So you’re aware of Mimisenri’s annual Nihon Conference?”

“I’ve never attended, but I know of it. It’s an international business conference, one of the only events in or near Japan where both human and youkai interact freely with each other.”

Silverware and glass clinked and clattered as the little white monkey started scouring the tabletop between them, cleaning the remaining food from forgotten plates. Nobunaga didn’t even seem to notice his companion’s antics. “Yes. This is actually the first I’d heard of it. Ostensibly, the conference promotes new business ideas and international commerce, because it allows some of the greatest minds and resources in business to come together under relaxed circumstances. They say a fourth of the world’s business ventures start during Mimisenri’s Nihon Conference.” He hesitated. “But, there are also rumors….”

“The private auctions,” Miroku murmured. “The black market ones. Yes, I’ve heard of them.” In fact, he’d been present at, and even participated in, a few. Not that he intended to tell Nobunaga; the boy looked upset enough about the rumors alone. “I don’t imagine anyone actually believes that Mimisenri acquired his wealth by legal means alone. The businessmen don’t care because he gets them what they want; and because he facilitates sorely needed business deals between the territories, neither government is willing to expend the resources it would take to arrest and prosecute him. So Mimisenri’s illegal dealings are overlooked by the international community.”

Nobunaga shook his head, an indignant frown darkening his already dark eyes. “The things they say happen on his island--”

“Happen in many other places in the world as well, Nobunaga,” Miroku broke into what looked to be a looming rant on basic human rights, trying to bring him back to the point. “You must learn to pick your battles wisely if you intend to stay on the political path. Attacking Mimisenri, a youkai with nearly unlimited means, would be a foolhardy and pointless thing for either of the governments to do without a very good reason.” He sighed, then leveled dark violet eyes on Nobunaga. “So why am I being assigned as the mediator representative on Mimisenri’s Island by an aide to Prime Minister Takeda?”

Nobunaga’s jaw clenched and he stared down the way his hands fisted tight against the tablecloth. “It’s customary for Mimisenri to request a mediator for the week, just to keep things running smoothly, isn’t it?”

Miroku flipped the folder closed. “And quite a pleasant assignment it promises to be. It still doesn’t justify pulling me from another important deal to see to it. Nor does it explain why a government aide is involved at all in mediator business.”

Nobunaga was already shaking his head. “Sakurai-san. A rumor has surfaced about this year’s conference, pertaining to several of the items up for auction.”

He hesitated. Looked around. Leaned in close.

Miroku’s impatience rose again, putting a twitch in his eyebrow. His finger began to tap against the white cloth. “Nobunaga--”

Nobunaga’s dark eyes speared him with the gravity of the situation. “Sakurai-san. It’s said that Mimisenri has in his possession, and will be auctioning off to the highest bidder, several shards of the Shikon no Tama.”

Miroku felt his eyes go wide, his pupils dilating until the violet in them looked nearly black as his brain went numb with shock. “The Shikon no Tama? But the Shikon hasn’t been seen for almost a hundred years.” He blinked, then breathed, “Oh, great Lord Buddha. Did you say shards?”

“For once, both the government and the mediators agree on the seriousness of the situation. You’re to go, confirm the presence of the shards and retrieve them -- and, if at all possible, find any indications of where the rest of the jewel might be.” Nobunaga’s baby-ish features looked grim. “Under no circumstances is any piece of the jewel to fall into youkai hands. That is an order from both the Prime Minister of the Human Territories and the collective heads of the mediator families.”

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YOUKAI TERRITORIES

New Musashi, capital city

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InuYasha was having a bad afternoon--hell, he’d been having a bad week--and he had no qualms about taking it out on anyone who crossed his path.

“Get out of my way, you little moron!”

Especially not the annoying little phone-answering, paper-shuffling, pencil pushers who populated the seventeenth floor.

Youkai of all shapes and sizes scattered away from desks or hallways into nearby offices, leaving trails of papers behind them in their attempt to avoid being trampled by a thoroughly irate, and obviously travel-worn hanyou. He had dust on his clothes and shoes, and his usually healthy silver-white mane of hair hung in dull, unkempt hunks down his back. The ragged-looking sword hanging in full view from the belt of his jeans, however (and every youkai who saw it breathed a quiet thanks for small favors), remained sheathed and untouched.

InuYasha barely noticed the scuttling mass of office workers. He just steamrolled his way, right through the hallways and cubicles, to the wall where the executive elevators were located, and punched an impatient thumb into the call button. Then he stood, boot tapping, mumbling. “Calling me straight back like this…had to run all the way…fucking hungry…better be one hell of an emergency.”

When the elevator finally responded to his summons, the low-pitched, cheerful bell signaling its arrival prompted a canine-baring snarl. He stepped into the tiny box, shoved his fists into the pockets of his leather jacket, then turned to find countless bug-eyes peeking from their various hiding spots throughout the room: above, around, and below desks, behind windows and doors. Most of the youkai viewing him with such terrified fascination were small and toad-like, members of a weak-but-numerous clan who had latched onto Sesshoumaru nearly a century ago.

The sensitive white ears atop his head twitched his irritation. Just to scare them, he wrapped a hand threateningly around Tetsusaiga’s tattered hilt, slammed the toe of his dirt-clumped boot into the side of the elevator, and snarled again. “What the hell are you looking at?”

At the bang, the whole room seemed to jump, and he watched the youkai’s scurrying movements with a small spurt of satisfaction until the door closed them off from his view. His stomach flipped at the weight shift as the elevator climbed upward, but his ears continued to catch the low whispers from below for several moments.

“InuYasha-sama is upset today.”

“Of course he is. He failed to deliver the latest shipment to the dragons.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard that.”

“I heard he was robbed before the shipment made it to Ryukotsusei-sama.”

“Well I heard that he didn’t even make it into dragon lands before he was beaten and robbed. By simple, everyday low-level bandits.”

“Eeeeeeh?!”

“P oor InuYasha-sama. If only he were half the youkai that Sesshoumaru-sama is.”

“Hmm? But isn’t he already only half the youkai Sesshoumaru-sama is?”

His teeth ground together, his eyes closing tight as he tried to suppress the urge to go back and beat some sense into the useless little youkai. “I didn’t fail, you tiny, stupid, gossiping toads.” He let his head fall back against the elevator wall and scratched absently at the back of one ear with a claw, trying to relieve some of the stress of the last few days. How the hell did the rumors always start up so quickly anyway? He hadn’t been back in the city for more than a damn hour!

His lip curled. “Fucking frogs.”

Another low-pitched ding, and the doors in front of him opened up. With a quick shake of his head, InuYasha stepped out. The executive lobby had lush carpets, dark oak paneling lining the walls and doors, and a soothing color scheme in grays and tans. Tasteful indoor lighting peeked from the ceiling, potted plants stood at attention at random intervals, and large windows along the walls let in plenty of sunlight. A large, dark-stained half-circle of a desk sat directly across from the elevators.

InuYasha didn’t care about the opulence; he focused on the two hallways, guarded by the desk, that led back into the offices.

His father’s secretary, Centi, sat behind the desk, her long black hair pulled into a sedate ponytail. Each of her six arms was engaged in a different activity: one hand typed, while another sorted and occasionally stamped papers, a third watered her newest dying desk-plant, and the fourth held a phone to her ear. He wasn’t quite sure what she was doing with the fifth and sixth. They weren’t visible over the high desk. At his entrance, all her arms paused, and she stared at him.

He started to storm right past the desk, but froze halfway across the carpet when an odd, wet, tacky sound wormed its way into his ears. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shrug off the unsettling noise, and scowled at Centi.

Her large, vaguely beady eyes were fixed on him. She said something into the phone in some obscure youkai dialect that he wasn’t familiar with, then put the receiver against her shoulder. She didn’t seem to care about his scowl; he could swear he saw a smirk curving the blood-red texture of her lips. “Welcome back, InuYasha-sama. The Taisho wants you in Conference One as soon as you get here. As in, immediately.” The words stopped coming, but her mouth continued moving in a slow, cow-like motion.

InuYasha nodded, but his ears twitched again at the sounds still coming from her mouth. “Fine. He better have a damn good reason for pulling back from--” He paused again at halfway around the desk and gave the company secretary a narrowed look from golden, slit-pupil eyes. “What the hell is that sound, Centi? Is that gum?”

She turned her head at him, a slow, deliberate, too-far twist over her shoulder, and slipped her long tongue out to slide along her lips. Her jaw continued to work around the gum. InuYasha fought back a vague, disgusted shudder.

“Yes. The Taisho wants me to quit smoking. Says the smell bothers him.”

InuYasha caught the scent of medicine-laden mint, scowled again, and gave her his back. “Keh. He’s going to tell you to quit chewing, too, if you don’t stop making so much damn noise.”

Centi cackled, a disturbingly grating sound that followed him down the hall. “Funny. Sesshoumaru-sama said the same thing. Though, he offered to help me by removing my teeth.”

InuYasha snorted, but didn’t bother to respond. Letting her know that the insinuation that he was in any way similar to his brother had irked him would only encourage her to do it again. Centi had been the company secretary for as long as he could remember, and for as long as he could remember, she'd taken a sadistic personal joy in torturing her employers.

Thanks to her multitasking, paper-filing perfection, Taisho Transport and Services maintained its reputation as one of the smoothest, most reliable import/export companies in the Eastern hemisphere. The Taisho males, aggressive and knowledgeable though they were, hated paperwork.

InuYasha and Sesshoumaru put up with her because avoiding red tape headaches was worth the aggravation of her presence; InuYasha was pretty sure his father put up with her because he liked the fact that she was an aggravation. The Taisho also had a certain fondness for her talent in scaring off what his father termed “undesirables”: they occasionally visited the executive offices, seeking jobs, favors, or “other things” from one of the most powerful daiyoukai in all of Japan. Rarely did they make it past Centi.

That, InuYasha understood perfectly. Centi had always creeped the hell out of him.

He shrugged her off and headed for Conference One, bypassing the shower and change of clothes he knew he’d find inside his office. He found the dark-stained, solid oak doors just where the hallway began to curve. They were shut, and he took great pleasure in smacking them hard enough to make them tremble; the doors flew open under his palms and slammed back into the walls.

Inside, a lone male figure sat towards the other end of the long, oval conference table, near the windows that made up the back wall. The jacket of his immaculate black suit was thrown over the back of his chair, leaving him in a crisp white dress shirt--sans tie, as always. His long, white-silver hair hung free, straight and slick around his shoulders, and he sipped what smelled like tea from a clay cup. On the table’s shiny black surface, a small laptop whished with electricity.

Not whom he had been expecting. A string of swear words, all of them good, but none of them entirely appropriate to express his annoyance, ran through his head. “Where the hell is Dad?”

At InuYasha’s crashing entrance, golden eyes with cat-slit pupils, eerily similar to his own, rose from the computer. One eyebrow hitched slightly, distaste and a faint smirk in his otherwise-indifferent features. “InuYasha. You smell remarkably like a filthy dog. Keep your stink on the other side of the table.”

InuYasha sent a glare right back at him. “Fuck off, Sesshoumaru. I just got back from dragon territory, delivering the fucking sake that you promised them. I ain’t had time for a bath.”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes had already dropped back to his laptop, and a few sedate clicks emanated from the keyboard. The faint glow from the screen added a weird hue to the magenta stripes slashing against his cheeks. “It was wine, and it was very expensive to ship from France. It better have all been intact. The terms of the contract with Ryukotsusei were--”

“Yeah, yeah. I fulfilled your damn contract. To the fucking letter.” InuYasha ground the back of his teeth. “Thirty barrels, babied like eggs, just in time for that weird festival of theirs.”

“And the payment?” Sesshoumaru still didn’t look up, though the keyboard tapping had stopped. It looked like he was reading something now.

“A hundred pounds of scales, a hundred pounds of some strange-smelling powder, and a hundred pounds of flowers, all trucking their way here though the friendly routes.” Though why the dragons never paid in money like most of their clients did escaped him. They damn well had enough of it.

“The bonus?”

InuYasha rolled his eyes. “Twenty pounds of that weird blue plant? Yeah, that, too.” He cocked a thumb over his shoulder. “I brought it with me and dropped it off in the warehouse. It’s all yours now.”

“Humph.”

InuYasha growled again. “You could thank me, you know. If I hadn’t handled the shipment personally, it wouldn’t have made it on time.” He glanced around at the deserted seats and wished he could smell coffee along with the tea. The weariness of a solid week of handling high-priority goods was starting to catch up to him; he needed sleep, food and a bath, in whichever order got it all to him fastest. “Thanks to you and your damn last-minute negotiations, I haven’t slept in three days.”

He sighed again, and rolled one tense shoulder as he walked around the table--towards Sesshoumaru, just to get the bastard back for the stink comment. “So? Where the hell is Dad? He was the one so damn insistent about me getting back as fast as possible. I had to run all the way from Hokkaido and cut through Panther lands. Damn cats nearly took me out just for walking on their precious grass.”

That earned another “humph” from Sesshoumaru, this one filled with contempt. “I haven’t spoken to Father in several days. I’ve been in the Ookami lands, meeting with their Elder Council about the bone-ware deal.” A brief sidelong glance, filled with golden irritation. “Kouga’s demanding compensation for the sacred weapon you broke the last time you two fought. And you should have just taken a plane.”

“Keh. Kouga can kiss my ass; it was his fault for getting me drunk before he challenged me.” InuYasha stopped just behind Sesshoumaru’s chair and glared again. “And it’s the dragons, remember? They’re not real fond of technology to begin with, and screw machines that can fly. Running was faster than waiting for decent transportation, and by the time I got through the Panthers, it was just easier to avoid the roads and cut straight through.” He peered over Sesshoumaru’s shoulder at the computer screen. His brow wrinkled as he gave an absent shot at translating the foreign words. “Austria? What the hell are you reading?”

Sesshoumaru’s palm slammed against the tabletop as he stood and whirled, the motion so abrupt it sent his chair rolling backwards. The chair saved InuYasha from serious injury; it forced him to spring backwards just as the claws of Sesshoumaru’s right hand shot out, swiping at his chest.

InuYasha cursed as his back hit the wall with a jarring thud; his hand groped for the tattered hilt at his side. A faint hissing tickled his ears, and he looked down to find four ragged slashes in the front of his shirt slowly eating themselves into gaping holes. He looked up, glaring in disbelief. “What the fuck is--that’s my shirt, you bastard!”

Sesshoumaru was facing him now, the glare back in his eyes. He held his right hand out, fingers curled, ready to strike again. “I told you,” he said, a quiet, lethal note in his voice, “to keep your stink on the other side of the table.”

“I’ll go wherever the hell I damn well please!” A rip, a flare of power, and InuYasha pointed the large, smooth, deadly curve of his sword at the youkai in front of him, his gut burning with anger and anticipation. “You got something up your ass, Sesshoumaru? Fine. Tetsusaiga and I haven’t had a good workout for while. We’ll pry it out for you.”

Sesshoumaru’s face went subtly tight, and his eyes took on a menacing narrow. His lip curled, and the crack of his knuckles echoed through the empty conference room. “Let’s see if you can.”

InuYasha sensed nothing. No sound, no approaching smell in warning: one moment he was facing Sesshoumaru, bristling and bracing for a clash that promised to be bloody; the next, a huge, familiar body stood between them, powerful shoulders and outstretched arms blocking his way with ease. Long silver hair, gathered high into a ponytail, swung from rapid movement, and a deep warning growl rippled through the air. One large, clawed hand had a restraining grip on Sesshoumaru’s wrist, and the fingers of the other had clamped down tight on Tetsusaiga’s blade, completely ignoring the sharp edge that cut into its palm.

For a moment, everything froze.

A heavy sigh drifted between them, and a deep, smooth voice spoke as yellow-amber eyes darted an exasperated glance from brother to brother. “Enough, you two. I didn’t call you both back here to wreck more office furniture.”

InuYasha blinked, only vaguely surprised and somewhat pissed at the old man‘s interference. He watched a droplet of blood run along Tetsusaiga’s heavy curve to meet the hilt, then relaxed and stepped back. “Che. Dad. Where the hell have you been?” He flicked Tetsusaiga free of his father’s blood, and pushed the huge blade back into the slim, black conformity of its sheath.

“Making arrangements. Since you two have managed to get along decently well for the past decade or so, I made the mistake of assuming it would be safe to leave you alone with each other for a few minutes.” The Taisho released Sesshoumaru’s hand before he turned a raised brow at InuYasha. “And since when is a father accountable to his sons?”

Sesshoumaru “humphed” again and returned his chair to in front of his computer. “Perhaps when a father summons his sons away from important business without a sufficient explanation.”

The Taisho’s dark gold eyes went with amusement to his eldest son. The jagged violet slashes that lined his cheekbones made a striking contrast to the multiple magenta ones of the face looking back at him. “The explanation I have is more than sufficient, though I’d prefer to tell you over a table that remains in one piece.” He glanced at InuYasha, and nodded to the other side of the table before sauntering over to the huge leather chair that sat at the head of the conference table.

InuYasha followed him and continued on to a chair on the other side. He watched his father stop at the window directly behind the head chair and draw an invisible symbol against the glass. He reached into the pocket of his casual sports jacket and retrieved a slim pair of file folders and a much smaller, folded piece of paper. The paper he unfolded, then slapped flat across what he’d drawn. They heard a small hiss and a hum before the background noise permeating the building went silent.

InuYasha’s confusion drew across his brow. The hiss had been his father’s hand burning when he activated the power in the sutra. What could be so important that his father had to use a human seclusion spell?

The Taisho settled into his chair, ignoring the burned flesh on his hand, and placed the folder on the table in front of him. He crossed his arms and sat for a moment, his vexed gaze going from Sesshoumaru, to InuYasha, and back again. A faint, rumble passed through his throat. “I thought you two had gotten over your petty squabbling years ago.”

InuYasha suddenly felt as if he were pre-pubescent pup again, being scolded for hiding creepy crawlies in the fluffiest parts of Sesshoumaru’s moko-moko. He scowled again. “Hey, don’t blame me. The bastard over there is the one who wanted a fight. I was just obliging him.”

“I warned him to stay away. He didn’t listen.” Sesshoumaru looked both unrepentant and stubborn. His eyes were still narrowed. “Idiot hanyou.”

InuYasha slammed a palm against the polished black surface in front of him. “You know I can wipe the floor with you anytime, you bastard!”

“Enough!” The Taisho’s voice echoed through the room like a thunderclap, his voice steely and commanding. “You both obviously have other things on your mind today, but that ends--” he picked up the folders and tossed them, one to each son, “now. This takes top priority.”

InuYasha slapped his down, then pried it off the table. “What’s this?”

“Contracts for you to sign and blood seal. You two are going to the Nihon Conference as representatives of the Inu.”

“Blood seal? What’s so important that it needs a blood seal?” InuYasha flipped open his file and picked up the travel pass lying right on top. “You’re sending us to Mimisenri’s Island?”

“You’ve both been there before. You’ve also met Mimisenri, which is one of the reasons we’re sending you.”

Sesshoumaru looked up from his file, eyebrow slightly hitched. “You want InuYasha to attend a business conference?”

The Taisho looked amused again. “You know very well that InuYasha is fully aware of how to conduct himself in such a setting, Sesshoumaru. Just because he chooses to be a handler doesn’t mean he is incapable of doing so, or that his education in that area is lacking.”

Sesshoumaru's brow inched a little higher in a scathing hint of sarcasm. “No, only his practice.”

“Since when do you give a flying fuck about what I practice?” InuYasha sneered before he turned back to his father. “You're damn right. I choose not to hang around a bunch of stiff assholes. So why the hell do you wanna send me to an island full of ‘em?”

“Because during his Grand Auction this year, Mimisenri will supposedly be giving several pieces of the Shikon no Tama to the highest bidder.”

InuYasha head jerked up, and whatever comments he’d been preparing to refuse the job died in his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Sesshoumaru, too, had straightened in his seat. The Taisho watched them and waited, the skin between his eyes creased.

“The Shikon no Tama?” InuYasha ran a rough, travel-weary hand down his face. “The jewel that was the only thing left of Midoriko after she threw up that damn Barrier? The one that’s been fought over like a bitch in heat since its creation?”

“The very one.”

“Well, hell.” InuYasha sat back in his chair. “I thought it was gone.”

“It was.” Sesshoumaru’s voice sent chills into the air. “Almost a century ago, the Shikon disappeared with its last guardian, a priestess by the name of Kikyou.”

The Taisho gave slight nod. “And now Mimisenri’s found it. That is, assuming he hasn’t had it all along.”

“And he’s selling it,” Sesshoumaru murmured, eyes narrowed in thought.

The Taisho’s mouth gave a quirk upward, though it lacked any of his normal humor. “No, he’s selling pieces of it.”

InuYasha scowled. “So he broke it? What the hell? Wasn’t it too powerful to fuck around with?”

“It is powerful. Dangerously so.” The Taisho sat forward, lacing his fingers together in front of his face. “In the years right after the Barrier was formed, both youkai and humans fought over the power it could grant. But each time someone gained control of the jewel, they were overwhelmed by its power, possessed by it. For about a century, both territories tried to contain it, but the cursed thing managed to bounce between them, mysteriously vanishing from one side, only to appear on the other. Every time it appeared, another conflict broke out over it, and more died.”

InuYasha listened, still and silent. He knew his father had been alive back when the Barrier first sprang up, but it had never occurred to him that he would have direct memories of the jewel.

“The seven Daiyoukai lords decided that the jewel was too much a temptation to exist, and we tried to destroy it. We failed. The only time the jewel was ever safe was in the hands of a human with enough spiritual power to keep it from being tainted. Once we figured that out, we handed the jewel over to the human government on the condition that the jewel is kept safely in the hands of a guardian capable of controlling it. If we’d left it to run free across the regions, the result would have been unending civil war.” He lifted a brow. “That was the first time the territories had worked together on anything.”

InuYasha’s ears twitched. “Wait. If the combined efforts of the Daiyoukai lords couldn’t destroy the Shikon, then how did Mimisenri break it?”

“No. The more important question is why is he selling it?” Sesshoumaru didn’t seem to ask the question of either of them in particular. He was staring out the window, at the distant, ever-present glow of the Barrier out at the very edge of the city.

Lines bracketed the edges of the Taisho’s mouth as he gave slight nod. “He doesn’t want for money. Mimisenri is already wealthier than most countries. Like the other daiyoukai, he doesn’t even need power; he has the secrets of all the rich and powerful who stay at his Island. So, even if it is broken into shards, why sell the jewel at all?”

“Maybe he just wants to show off. Isn’t possessing the jewel supposed to be some sort of status symbol?” InuYasha shrugged.

Sesshoumaru spared him a scathing glance. “If Mimisenri were the type to show off, he wouldn’t avoid the public so diligently. Even you and I have seen him only once, and that was because of Father.” He didn’t wait for InuYasha’s retort, just turned his gaze back to their father. “So? What else? You don’t simply want us to retrieve the pieces on auction.”

“No.” The Taisho’s gaze went hard and dark, and his brows dipped low into a furious glower. “Naraku will be participating in the conference as well.”

A deep growl ripped from InuYasha’s throat, his fingers curling against the smooth table; his claws scratched into the surface, a grating sound that reverberated oddly within the confines of the seclusion spell. “And? You want me to kill the son of a bitch?”

“You'd be a fool to try.” Sesshoumaru gave a soft humph, though he looked no more pleased about the situation than InuYasha felt. “Mimisenri’s entry contracts expressly forbid unauthorized violence between guests. That’s one of the reasons for the requirement of a blood seal. Killing Naraku on Mimisenri’s Island could cost you your life.”

His teeth snapped together on a snarl and he shot to his feet. “Shut up. What the fuck would you know about it? Your mother is still--”

The Taisho's palm slammed into the table, rattling glass and metal. “Enough, InuYasha.” His voice was little more than a steel-laden thread of fury.

InuYasha froze and cast a wary look at the head of the table.

The Taisho's eyes were hard. “Seeing Naraku dead is as important to me as it is to you, but that’s secondary to what's taking place now. Sesshoumaru’s right. Calm down. Sit and listen.” He waited for InuYasha’s grudging compliance. “We think Naraku has been in direct contact with Mimisenri for several months at least.”

InuYasha clenched his fist around the soft leather of the armrest. “He's aiming for the jewel pieces.”

“Of course the shards are a factor.” Sesshoumaru steepled his fingers. “But if it were only that, Mimisenri wouldn't bother with such personal contact. The auction is enough to sort out those who want the jewel. There's something else.”

“It's more than a few shards on auction, then.” InuYasha snorted. “ To draw the old bastard out like that, Naraku's got to have something that interests Mimisenri.”

The Taisho sat back, that small, a grudging smile tugging at his lips. “Yes. The Daiyoukai lords are very concerned about this communication. Naraku has been quietly attacking the regions, and us, for decades, and we haven’t been able to do anything about it because we can’t prove anything under current youkai law.” His voice darkened. “Nor have any of us been able to catch him in person, which would negate the requirement for the law. He is nothing more than a shadow to us. That his latest scheme seems to involve the Shikon no Tama is unforgivable.”

“Shards.” Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed, then darkened. “Mimisenri acquired the shards he's selling from somewhere.”

InuYasha frowned. “If Naraku gets even a small piece of the Shikon no Tama, it’ll mean trouble for all the seven regions.” He flipped through the papers in the folder again, his words roughening as he caught on. “Shit. But if Naraku somehow managed to get a hold of the whole damn thing--”

“Either scenario is unacceptable.” Sesshoumaru stood, folder in one hand, and shut his computer with the other. “I’ll go. InuYasha’s presence isn’t necessary.”

InuYasha ignored him. “What the hell did Naraku promise Mimisenri to get him personal contact? Even if this isn't about the whole jewel, Mimisenri can’t be stupid enough to think he can trust Naraku. If they have some kind of private deal, it's bound to get messy once they start double-crossing each other.” He growled. “Shit. And no matter what, it’s walking into enemy territory if Mimisenri’s working with Naraku. Shit.”

“That’s why you’re both going. InuYasha is someone you can trust, Sesshoumaru. He’s our best handler for a reason, and you'll need each other's skills. I want you two to work together. This is not a request.” The Taisho stood as well, his expression hard, indomitable. “Find out what Naraku and Mimisenri are up to, and relieve them of however much of the Shikon no Tama they have. You have the complete financial support of this company and the private wealth of the seven Daiyoukai lords. Use it wisely.” He turned and stepped over to the window, where the sutra still stuck against the glass. “And InuYasha…if you manage to find out anything about Naraku in the process, that’s a good thing.”

For the first time since he’d gotten back into the city, InuYasha found himself grinning, an almost bloodthirsty show of fangs. “Heh. And if I manage to kill him?”

The Taisho glanced back over his shoulder. “I won't hold it against you.”

InuYasha stared, had to stop himself from stepping back. His father's golden eyes held a familiar cold, ruthless glint—but beneath the ruthlessness, there was an equally familiar, disconcerting hint of tired grief. InuYasha gritted his teeth, refused to swallow the searing spike of fury in his throat.

“How much time do we have to prepare?” Sesshoumaru sounded irritated. He stood by the door, one impatient claw tapping gently against the slim handle.

“You’ll be leaving first thing in the morning. Have your offices ordered by then.” The Taisho reached up and fingered the sutra keeping them enclosed in tamper-proof privacy. “The youkai mediators are sending representatives as well. Since their goals coincide with ours, I expect you to cooperate with them; as mediators, they’ll have access to information and events that you might not alone.” Amusement filled his voice as he ripped the paper off the window. It flared brightly, then dissolved in the air. “Try not to make too many enemies, you two.”

As the last of the paper vanished into smoke, the ever-present background noise filled in the silence, and a heavy pounding from on the other side of the oak doors reverberated through the room.

A faint, squawky wail accompanied the pounding. “Sesshoumaru-saaamaa! Please open the door, Sesshouuuumaru-sama!”

Sesshoumaru’s went wide briefly before he yanked open the door and glared down at the knee-high, green-skinned imp that tumbled forward onto his face. It took the littler youkai a moment to realize that his cries had been answered. He looked up with tears in his beady yellow eyes. “Oh Sesshoumaru-sama! Thank you for answering the door! Forgive me for interrupting, Taisho-sama.” He paused, then muttered, grudgingly, “InuYasha-sama.”

InuYasha had to hold back a snort at the thumping vein in Sesshoumaru’s forehead, and a wince. Sesshoumaru’s freakishly loyal personal secretary had an annoying voice on his good days. “Oi, Sesshoumaru, shut your pet toad up, will you? He’s giving me a headache.”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes had already narrowed into lethal near-slits. “Jaken. I told you I would be unavailable until this meeting ended.”

Jaken didn’t even bother to get off his knees before he started groveling. “Forgive me, Sesshoumaru-sama, but your mother is on the phone again. She is absolutely insisting that you speak with her immediately. She refuses to await a return call, and she says she knows that you’re not in Ookami territory, out of the country, or sick. Please Sesshoumaru-sama, you must speak with her. She’s threatening to serve me up as a delicacy at her next business party.”

The Taisho’s deep chuckle rumbled from the back of the room. “It sounds as if your mother wants to discuss your contract deadlines again, Sesshoumaru.”

The information didn’t seem to improve Sesshoumaru’s disposition any. His fingers clenched tight around the folder in his hand, and the paper crumpled, hissed beneath his claws. He stared down, unmoving for a moment, then turned on his heel and strode out into the hallway. “Tell her I’m dead.”

“Eeeeeh?!” Jaken gawked after him, then scrambled onto his feet and darted into the hallway. “But, my lord, the last time I told her that, she kept me busy for hours planning the best way to bury me alive with your body.”

The Taisho continued to chuckle as the sound of Jaken’s fretful muttering trailed down the hall, then cut off abruptly with the slam of a door. “My foolish son. He can run all he likes, but he will eventually have to deal with her.”

“Keh!” Restlessly, InuYasha stood. “Stupid ass.” He grabbed the folder off the table, and then headed for the door. “I’ll take care of Naraku.”

“InuYasha.”

Halfway out the door, his father’s voice stopped him. He looked back.

“All this aside, the anniversary is next month. Will you be coming this year?”

He looked away, down the hallway towards his own offices and the shower that awaited him. The Taisho’s piercing gaze didn’t let up even though he was no longer meeting it. “Don’t I always come?”

A deep sigh. “I meant to her grave.”

His jaw clenched, and he turned to meet his father’s eyes. “I visit her. Every year.” Just never with him. Never with anyone who could see him grieve. No one, not even his father, had ever had the right to see him grieve.

Except one. And he wasn’t sure she had ever been real.

The Taisho studied him for a moment, then nodded. “All right. I’ll trust you with this and make the arrangements.” He gave his son one more long, considering look. “InuYasha. Don’t let your pride get in the way of working with your brother. The game you’re about to play is very dangerous. No matter how capable you are on your own, you’ll need your allies. They’ll make you stronger, not weaker.”

InuYasha snorted. “You don’t need to tell that to me.” He vanished down the hall, in the opposite direction of Sesshoumaru.

The Taisho stared hard at the empty doors. “I shouldn’t have to tell that to either of you, my foolish sons.”

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A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews. I really appreciate them. Two important notes on this story.

1. This is an experiment of sorts for me, and I’m still uncertain as to a few of the elements and characterizations, so this is an under-construction work. Don’t be surprised if I have to go back and change a few things along the way.

2. I’m working without a beta, and though I’m doing my best, I’m certain that there are things I’ve missed. Also, I’ve found recently that my “w” key is getting sticky, so if you see any wording that seems a bit weird, please don’t hesitate to point them out. I promise I won’t get bitchy about it. I’m more than pleased to hear any and all comments.

Thanks so much for the feedback,

ShadesofNight