InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Entrapment: A 21st Century Adventure ❯ Entrapment ( Chapter 3 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
Disclaimer: I don’t own Inuyasha or any of the publicly known characters, plot, etc. I’m just renting them from Rumiko Takahashi, Viz, etc. I do own the plot of this story and any original characters I’ve created. I will make no money from this fic; I write for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of my readers.
Entrapment
Sango sighed blissfully, tilting her head back and gazing up at the beautiful blue sky overhead. It had been a wonderful last few days.
The village they’d rescued was ecstatic that they had decided to accept its offer of hospitality. The afternoon was lazy and peaceful, and she emerged from their room at the inn after a refreshing nap, only to find a most unwelcome sight. In the center of the village, Miroku was giving palm readings, and a whole line of young women were waiting for his ‘services.’ Sango trudged despondently over to Shippou and Kirara, who were perched on a fence watching the monk. Shippou for one was bored, but too tired to seek out something to do; he had been up all night too.
“At it again, eh?” Sango inquired dryly, already resigned to the answer she didn’t want to hear.
“Uh-huh,” the fox kit replied. “Although, he hasn’t asked anyone to bear his child.”
“He hasn’t?”
Now that was surprising. Sango leaned over the fence and strained, but she could not make out what Miroku was saying. Apparently Shippou with his youkai hearing could.
“Nope,” the fox continued, “he just tells everyone they’ll have many children.”
Sango smiled wryly. So at least I know that monk over there isn’t a youkai in disguise. Still, Miroku’s behavior, or rather, lack of bad behavior, perplexed her. She had to wonder why he was acting less perverted than usual. She could understand if he stopped propositioning women when he saw her in the area, but Shippou said he hadn’t done it at all, even when she was asleep. Trying not to get her hopes up, Sango watched her oft-wayward fiancé, pondering the significance of his newfound restraint.
When all the women had received readings, Miroku ambled over to his companions, grinning mischievously at Sango.
“My lady, would you also care for a palm reading?” The waggle of his eyebrows suggested that this ‘reading’ would not be as innocent as his previous ones.
“I’ll pass,” Sango declared, folding her arms over her chest.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Miroku declared, sounding genuinely disappointed. “Shippou?”
“Pass.”
“K irara?”
*Mew*
Miroku sighed, then shrugged. “Ah, it’s just as well. I actually know nothing about reading palms.”
“Then why do you do it?” Sango demanded incredulously.
“To see the smiles on their faces,” he answered honestly. Sango stared at him, contemplating how sweet that sentiment was.
“And to see if any of them will bear his children,” Shippou quipped, utterly ruining the moment.
“Of course,” Sango said, somehow finding amusement in the reminder this time. Miroku raised his hands in a helpless gesture, but chose to remain silent.
The remainder of the evening was uneventful, and they set out for Kaede’s village late the next morning. Because they had no reason to rush, they took their time and meandered at a relaxed pace. Sango actually enjoyed walking with Miroku; Shippou and Kirara were quiet so it felt like just the two of them. The intermittent, casual conversation was comfortable, not forced. Things got more serious that night. Somehow or other, as the firelight flickered over the campsite, they began sharing bits and pieces of their pasts with each other. Sango rationalized it as preparation for the future; if they were going to be married someday, as she hoped, they needed to know a lot more about each other than they currently did. She didn’t plan on it being such an enriching experience, however. Painful memories didn’t seem so painful when she shared them, as Miroku subtly encouraged her to remember and treasure the happy times. It was also wonderful to listen as he willingly reciprocated her openness. She learned much about his past that night, and how he became the man he was today.
They completed their trek to the village the following day, and things moved somewhat back to normal. Miroku groped her twice, but somehow his wayward touch seemed more playful than offensive. She still slapped him of course; she was not about to assent to that kind of behavior in public. They did not find Inuyasha at Kaede’s hut or by the well, and assumed he was in Kagome’s time.
It was now the day after their arrival, and the sun was about halfway through its descent to the western horizon. Sango smiled, gazing out over the landscape. She was glad she had taken a few moments for herself, to reflect on the past few days. There would be less opportunity for that shortly; she expected Inuyasha and Kagome to return any moment. But the sun continued to set, and gradually day turned into night with no sign of the hanyou or miko. Eventually, dinner was served in Kaede’s hut.
“Inuyasha and Kagome-chan were supposed to be back today, right?” Sango asked, voicing her concern.
“Indeed. Perhaps they merely wished for more alone time together,” Miroku replied suggestively.
Sango rolled her eyes, wishing she could share his optimism if not his perverted imagination. But something just didn’t seem right; her intuition was telling her that all was not well. She shook her head, hoping she was imagining things.
“Did you hear from her yet?”
“No,” the older woman replied, gazing up at him anxiously. “Inuyasha, I’m starting to get worried. This isn’t like Kagome. Usually she’ll call if she has to stay after school or goes over to a friend’s house.”
That was the last straw for Inuyasha. Screw promises; this was getting scary. Kagome had told him the modern era was safer than the past, but how much safer he couldn’t say. With every passing second it seemed more likely that something bad had happened to her. His face hardened in resolve, even as he fought against a rush of paralyzing fear.
“I’m going to look for her,” he declared, moving toward the door.
“But what about your appearance?” Mrs. Higurashi exclaimed. He was famous now, and even if he changed clothes, people would still recognize his long, silver hair. There was no hair dye in the house, and going out to buy some seemed like an unconscionable delay under the circumstances.
“Don’t worry,” he replied confidently, “I won’t let anyone get a good look at me.”
Mrs. Higurashi watched him go, staring after him in silence for several minutes. Then she got up to make dinner, resolving not to assume the worst. Kagome had probably just forgotten to call. And if her daughter really was in trouble, then she trusted Inuyasha to rescue her. Please, Inuyasha, bring my baby back.
It was perhaps two hours later, well after sunset, when the phone rang, the piercing sound slicing violently into the dreadful silence hanging over the house. Mrs. Higurashi picked up the handset, bringing it shakily to her ear.
“H-hello?”
“Is this Higurashi Etsuko?” said a somber male voice.
“Yes, this is she.”
“This is Officer Oonishi with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. I’m very sorry, but your daughter, Kagome…I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”
She found herself in a chillingly plain room, the walls flat and painted in a uniformly drab shade. A single bulb hanging from the ceiling provided the only illumination, occasionally flickering and flirting with total darkness. Off to the side sat a small steel table, bent and wobbly, with an old fashioned black doctor’s bag perched innocently on its surface. Before her was a door, made of aged wood as bare as the walls except for a small doorknob. Though she had no way of knowing, Kagome imagined the door was thick indeed. Everything about the room reminded her of a dungeon.
She tried to rise only to discover that the task impossible; her wrists were handcuffed to the supports of the creaky metal chair on which she sat. She shook and rattled the chair with a surge of terrified adrenaline, but the old structure was easily up to her feeble struggles. Breathing heavily now, Kagome tried to reign in her rising panic. Desperately wracking her memory, she attempted to recall how she’d ended up in this predicament. She had been walking home from school, looking forward to a trip to the feudal era. Suddenly, the squeal of tires and the screams of frightened pedestrians rent the air. Before Kagome could locate the source of the trouble, a massive explosion ripped through the street, the shockwave sending her staggering back. When she raised her head, a truly horrifying sight greeted her. Just up the street, on the opposite side, a tanker truck had swerved off the road, smashed through parked cars, and careened into a building before exploding. A massive inferno burned on the sidewalk, sending acrid black smoke into the air, and Kagome prayed that no one had been caught in the blast.
There was chaos in the streets, with people running away from the fire, afraid it might spread. Kagome decided to join them, and had started to make her way back toward the school when strong arms grabbed her and yanked her abruptly to the side, into the back of a parked van. She recalled staring into the harsh eyes of the man holding his hand over her mouth, then feeling a prick in the arm. After that, her memory was blank.
Shivering in terror, Kagome took stock of her situation. She had obviously been kidnapped, though for what purpose she hadn’t the slightest idea. Though she was cuffed wrist and ankle to the chair, she remained fully clothed. Her captors had at least allowed her that small dignity. Perhaps some of her worst fears would not come to pass. Still, how on earth was she going to get out of this mess? Inuyasha would look for her, but would he be able to find her? Was she even still in Tokyo? She had many questions and no answers. But surely someone must have seen her get pulled into the van, right? Maybe the police were out looking for her at this very moment! That is, unless everyone had been too busy fleeing from the explosion to notice her abduction.
Kagome felt a wave of hopelessness at that thought. People could become incredibly single-minded when the fight or flight response kicked in. It was entirely possible that her abduction had gone unwitnessed. Perhaps her captors had engineered the accident just for that purpose? But why did they want her in the first place? What were they going to do with her?!
“Fuck!” Kagome swore, so utterly tired of unanswerable questions. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she didn’t attempt to hold them back. She slumped forward, crying softly to herself for a seemingly interminable amount of time. Eventually, her sobs wound down to sniffles, and she was finally able to think calmly. It was not as though she had never been kidnapped before, after all. She had talked her way out of the clutches of the Thunder Brothers all those months ago, and had survived every abduction since. She didn’t know how Inuyasha would find her, but he would. She just had to keep her head and stay alert. If an opportunity to escape presented itself, she would take it. Glowering determinately at the door, Kagome waited for her captors to show themselves.
She did not have long to wait. After a few minutes, the door creaked open and two men wearing ski masks walked in. Both were dressed in dark, nondescript slacks and shirts. One went over to the bag on the table and began rummaging through its contents, while the other stood before her, gazing thoughtfully down at her form which trembled with a combination of fear and anger. Kagome glared back at him, resolving to show as little of the former as possible. She felt a twinge of recognition at his eyes, but could not place them. Finally, she could take the quiet scrutiny no longer.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “What do you want with me?”
“I will be asking the questions,” the one in front of her replied icily, and Kagome gasped. That voice…
“She already recognized you,” the other man stated exasperatedly. “I told you wearing these stupid ski masks wouldn’t make any difference.”
Both men removed their masks, and Kagome was confronted with the two reporters from yesterday, though she was now sure they were not actually journalists. Now that she had an idea where this encounter was heading, she felt a fresh wave of fury flow through her. If she was right, then her own life wasn’t the only one in danger. Her innate protectiveness of Inuyasha swelled within her, and she spoke again, much more harshly than before.
“I’ll ask you again, what do you want with me?”
“And I will tell you again, Kagome. I will be asking the questions!”
Kagome laughed, the sound forced and hollow, but still a laugh. “You think I’m going to tell you anything?”
“You will,” her interrogator muttered darkly. “I guarantee that you will. Now, tell us everything you know about the strange, silver-haired man from the Midtown Tower the other day? Who is he? What is he?”
“I told you yesterday, I don’t know!”
“And even if she did,” the second man interjected, “she wouldn’t tell us.” He cast a meaningful look to his companion, who sighed and nodded reluctantly.
“I was hoping to avoid this,” he announced regretfully, turning aside as the more frightening of the two men advanced on her. Kagome shrunk back, her face going pale at the malicious expression on his face, and the long syringe clutched in his right hand.
“Wh-what are you doing?! What is that?!”
“Just something to make you more cooperative,” the man with the needle replied gruffly, seemingly enjoying her panic.
“Stay away from me!”
But her cries and struggles went for naught. The assailant took her bare thigh in a vice grip, swiftly shoving the needle into her flesh and pushing the plunger. Kagome whimpered at the pain, tears collecting behind her eyelids at the new violation. Already the drug was taking effect. Warmth flooded her body, beginning with her leg and quickly spreading to the rest of her extremities. A soothing haze enveloped her mind, pulling her down toward unconsciousness but never quite taking her there.
“Who is he?”
The voice seemed kind and gentle now, and Kagome nearly answered. At the last moment she regained some of herself, closing her mouth and shaking her head weakly.
“Who is he, Kagome?”
She resisted once more, but this time the urge was stronger, a compulsion so powerful that it seemed it had taken over her existence, conquered her very soul. At last, she could hold out no longer.
“H-his…n-n-name is…I-I-…Inuyasha.”
He didn’t know what he’d been hoping for. He had run to the school, sticking to the rooftops and presumably avoiding being seen. The school grounds were deserted, and in the dim light he had peered in through the windows of every classroom he could find. Kagome was not there. Now he sat on the edge of the rooftop, brooding over what course of action to take next.
He could certainly try to find a scent trail starting at the school. If he succeeded, it would be easy to follow for a short while, but would quickly become problematic. In the hustle and bustle of the city, with literally thousands of human and artificial scents potentially permeating every square foot of ground, tracking one individual scent would be incredibly difficult. He could probably do it, but it would be slow going, requiring him to basically crawl around on all fours pressing his nose to the pavement. That would be sure to draw unwanted attention, even if his picture wasn’t on all the news stations. He regretted not taking the time to alter his appearance before leaving the shrine. But there was nothing for it now. If Kagome really was in trouble, and he could not shake the irrepressible feeling that she was, then nothing else mattered. Avoiding recognition was of miniscule importance compared to her safety. The humans will see me, but they won’t be able to stop me. I’ll find K—”
“Ah!” he exclaimed, his hand flying to the source of the sudden stinging pain in his neck. His fingers brushed against a foreign object, and he quickly drew it out. He examined it, his eyes widening. It was a dart of some kind, with a clear, cylindrical body and orange feathering at one end. At the other end, the dart was capped by a long needle, tinged red with his blood.
No sooner had Inuyasha risen into a crouch and began to scan his surroundings when another bolt of stabbing pain erupted in his chest. Swearing, he yanked that dart out as well, already feeling the effects of whatever drug had been injected into his system. He tried to leap off the building, but his leg muscles would not respond. Sinking to his knees, he somehow managing to draw and transform Tetsusaiga. He slammed the sword into the roof, shielding his body from the approximate direction of the shooter. Forehead resting against the blade, he panted hard and tried desperately to maintain consciousness. The only thing keeping him upright was his tight grip on Tetsusaiga’s hilt, his arm fully extended and acting almost like a rope suspending his body. His vision swam, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. But it was not getting any worse; he was teetering on the brink of oblivion, but he did not think he would fall over the edge. That is, until a third dart embedded itself into the flesh of his hand. A few seconds later, the hanyou collapsed, finally surrendering to the irresistible darkness.
“That was by far the strangest interrogation I’ve ever done,” Saburou declared softly, breaking the silence.
“Do you think her story was genuine?” Kurou asked.
“I don’t know. I see two possibilities: one, it’s all true, or two, she’s a fucking lunatic and believes it’s true.”
“Isn’t there a third possibility? Could she have simply lied to us?”
“Not a chance. That’s the best stuff you can get, and it’s highly illegal. You saw how the drugs affected her. No, she honestly believes what she told us to be the truth.”
“But it’s so—”
Saburou’s cell phone rang, and after looking at the caller ID, he put it on speaker and set it down in the middle of the table.
“Ishikawa?”
“Yes, boss,” the man on the other end of the call replied. “We got it.”
“You did?!”
“Yes. It came to the school just like you thought it would.”
“Excellent! Good job—wait, why are you saying ‘it’ instead of ‘he?’”
“Because whatever this thing is, it definitely isn’t human.”
“How can you tell?”
“Just by looking at it; the non-human features are not artificial. And I had to hit it with three—whoa, it’s stirring again!”
Crackling sounds of the cell phone being set down were broadcast through the phone, and Saburou thought he heard the telltale puff of a tranquilizer gun going off. Neither he nor Kurou breathed until Ishikawa’s voice came through again.
“Whew! Make that four darts.”
“Four darts!” Saburou repeated incredulously. “That’s enough to kill a bull elephant!”
“I know, but it barely put this guy to sleep.”
“Alright, you and Arai load him up quickly and bring him to the warehouse. And whatever you do, don’t let him wake up!”
“Understood, boss. Ishikawa out.”
The phone went dead, and Saburou put it back in his pocket. The room was silent once again, though now both men felt grins spreading across their faces.
“Well, Sasaki-san,” Saburou observed, “it appears we’ve caught ourselves a han—what the hell did she call it?”
“Hanyou.”
“Yeah, that. I’d still like to give Kagome a polygraph in the morning, but it looks like her story was true after all.”
“Sounds good to me. I can’t wait to study him!”
The scientist wrung his hands together excitedly, and Saburou smiled wider. And I can’t wait to turn that ‘hanyou’ into a big pile of cash. If Kurou thinks he’s getting away with paying us the usual rate this time, he’s delusional. I’m thinking more like seventy-five percent. Yeah, that ought to properly compensate us.
Saburou chuckled darkly to himself, but made no indication of his private thoughts. There was plenty of time for ‘negotiations’ later. Right now, he settled for dreaming of retirement on a small island in the Caribbean. Hell, maybe he’d buy an island of his own. Sitting upon this enormous cash cow, the sky was the limit.
It had been about three hours since Officer Oonishi’s phone call, one of the worst moments of her life. In the time since the officer had informed her of Kagome’s death, she had done nothing but cry. Now her eyes were dry, though the track marks on her cheeks remained. She was numb; there were no more tears left.
Now she found herself watching the late night news, needing something to counter the oppressive darkness of the living room. She did not wish to be alone, but she also did not want to see anyone right now. She had not informed Souta or Kagome’s grandfather of the tragedy, and was not looking forward to the task. Most of all, she dreaded the moment when Inuyasha would return from his futile search, and she would have to tell him the news. He would take it harder than anyone.
Mrs. Higurashi squinted her eyes shut, leaning her head despondently against her knees. All her hopes and dreams for Kagome, her cautious optimism that her daughter and the hanyou she considered a son would realize how much they loved each other, were all gone. It was wicked irony that despite all the danger Kagome had put herself in on the other side of the well, her life was cut short by a freak accident in the modern era. The one thing Inuyasha could not protect her from. Oh, how his normally bright amber orbs would dull. Would he cry? Yes, she realized. Perhaps not in her presence, but he too would shed tears for Kagome. And perhaps he would realize his true feelings for her, too late, which would haunt him for the rest of his life.
“A tragedy in downtown Tokyo today,” the anchorwoman on TV said, distracting Mrs. Higurashi from her thoughts. The screen changed to an overhead helicopter view of a city street, a large section of which was blackened and smoking. The carnage left behind was largely indiscernible.
“A tanker truck swerved out of control into the side of a building and exploded, killing an unknown number of people on the sidewalk. So far the only victim who has been identified is fifteen-year-old Higurashi Kagome, a student at Fukuzawa Middle School.”
Mrs. Higurashi choked as a picture of Kagome appeared to the side of the crash scene. The image of her daughter brought fresh tears to her eyes, driving back the numbness which had settled over her.
“So sad to see a young life ended like that,” the male co-anchor interjected.
“Yes,” replied the woman, “our condolences go out to the families of all the victims.”
Mrs. Higurashi turned off the TV, finding darkness preferable to meaningless sympathy. At least now she could be alone with her despair. Curling further into herself, she cried until utter exhaustion finally claimed her, and she fell into a restless sleep.
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Entrapment
Sango sighed blissfully, tilting her head back and gazing up at the beautiful blue sky overhead. It had been a wonderful last few days.
The village they’d rescued was ecstatic that they had decided to accept its offer of hospitality. The afternoon was lazy and peaceful, and she emerged from their room at the inn after a refreshing nap, only to find a most unwelcome sight. In the center of the village, Miroku was giving palm readings, and a whole line of young women were waiting for his ‘services.’ Sango trudged despondently over to Shippou and Kirara, who were perched on a fence watching the monk. Shippou for one was bored, but too tired to seek out something to do; he had been up all night too.
“At it again, eh?” Sango inquired dryly, already resigned to the answer she didn’t want to hear.
“Uh-huh,” the fox kit replied. “Although, he hasn’t asked anyone to bear his child.”
“He hasn’t?”
Now that was surprising. Sango leaned over the fence and strained, but she could not make out what Miroku was saying. Apparently Shippou with his youkai hearing could.
“Nope,” the fox continued, “he just tells everyone they’ll have many children.”
Sango smiled wryly. So at least I know that monk over there isn’t a youkai in disguise. Still, Miroku’s behavior, or rather, lack of bad behavior, perplexed her. She had to wonder why he was acting less perverted than usual. She could understand if he stopped propositioning women when he saw her in the area, but Shippou said he hadn’t done it at all, even when she was asleep. Trying not to get her hopes up, Sango watched her oft-wayward fiancé, pondering the significance of his newfound restraint.
When all the women had received readings, Miroku ambled over to his companions, grinning mischievously at Sango.
“My lady, would you also care for a palm reading?” The waggle of his eyebrows suggested that this ‘reading’ would not be as innocent as his previous ones.
“I’ll pass,” Sango declared, folding her arms over her chest.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Miroku declared, sounding genuinely disappointed. “Shippou?”
“Pass.”
“K irara?”
*Mew*
Miroku sighed, then shrugged. “Ah, it’s just as well. I actually know nothing about reading palms.”
“Then why do you do it?” Sango demanded incredulously.
“To see the smiles on their faces,” he answered honestly. Sango stared at him, contemplating how sweet that sentiment was.
“And to see if any of them will bear his children,” Shippou quipped, utterly ruining the moment.
“Of course,” Sango said, somehow finding amusement in the reminder this time. Miroku raised his hands in a helpless gesture, but chose to remain silent.
The remainder of the evening was uneventful, and they set out for Kaede’s village late the next morning. Because they had no reason to rush, they took their time and meandered at a relaxed pace. Sango actually enjoyed walking with Miroku; Shippou and Kirara were quiet so it felt like just the two of them. The intermittent, casual conversation was comfortable, not forced. Things got more serious that night. Somehow or other, as the firelight flickered over the campsite, they began sharing bits and pieces of their pasts with each other. Sango rationalized it as preparation for the future; if they were going to be married someday, as she hoped, they needed to know a lot more about each other than they currently did. She didn’t plan on it being such an enriching experience, however. Painful memories didn’t seem so painful when she shared them, as Miroku subtly encouraged her to remember and treasure the happy times. It was also wonderful to listen as he willingly reciprocated her openness. She learned much about his past that night, and how he became the man he was today.
They completed their trek to the village the following day, and things moved somewhat back to normal. Miroku groped her twice, but somehow his wayward touch seemed more playful than offensive. She still slapped him of course; she was not about to assent to that kind of behavior in public. They did not find Inuyasha at Kaede’s hut or by the well, and assumed he was in Kagome’s time.
It was now the day after their arrival, and the sun was about halfway through its descent to the western horizon. Sango smiled, gazing out over the landscape. She was glad she had taken a few moments for herself, to reflect on the past few days. There would be less opportunity for that shortly; she expected Inuyasha and Kagome to return any moment. But the sun continued to set, and gradually day turned into night with no sign of the hanyou or miko. Eventually, dinner was served in Kaede’s hut.
“Inuyasha and Kagome-chan were supposed to be back today, right?” Sango asked, voicing her concern.
“Indeed. Perhaps they merely wished for more alone time together,” Miroku replied suggestively.
Sango rolled her eyes, wishing she could share his optimism if not his perverted imagination. But something just didn’t seem right; her intuition was telling her that all was not well. She shook her head, hoping she was imagining things.
* * *
“Damn, where is that wench?” Inuyasha muttered for at least the dozenth time. It was nearly dusk, and she still wasn’t home from school. They were supposed to leave for the feudal era as soon as she got back! He growled, then did an about face and resumed his pacing across her bedroom floor. He had decided to remain in the modern era after returning last night to meet with Kagome’s friends, but this morning she had made him promise to stay inside the house for the entire day. He had agreed, seeing it as a way to avoid being roped into working in that dusty old shed. Now he was regretting that promise. For although his primary emotion was currently anger, he could not suppress his worry. Nor could he shake a feeling of dread, though his logical mind told him he was just being paranoid. Losing patience, he exited the room and vaulted down the stairs to check with Mrs. Higurashi for what must have been the fourth or fifth time. “Did you hear from her yet?”
“No,” the older woman replied, gazing up at him anxiously. “Inuyasha, I’m starting to get worried. This isn’t like Kagome. Usually she’ll call if she has to stay after school or goes over to a friend’s house.”
That was the last straw for Inuyasha. Screw promises; this was getting scary. Kagome had told him the modern era was safer than the past, but how much safer he couldn’t say. With every passing second it seemed more likely that something bad had happened to her. His face hardened in resolve, even as he fought against a rush of paralyzing fear.
“I’m going to look for her,” he declared, moving toward the door.
“But what about your appearance?” Mrs. Higurashi exclaimed. He was famous now, and even if he changed clothes, people would still recognize his long, silver hair. There was no hair dye in the house, and going out to buy some seemed like an unconscionable delay under the circumstances.
“Don’t worry,” he replied confidently, “I won’t let anyone get a good look at me.”
Mrs. Higurashi watched him go, staring after him in silence for several minutes. Then she got up to make dinner, resolving not to assume the worst. Kagome had probably just forgotten to call. And if her daughter really was in trouble, then she trusted Inuyasha to rescue her. Please, Inuyasha, bring my baby back.
It was perhaps two hours later, well after sunset, when the phone rang, the piercing sound slicing violently into the dreadful silence hanging over the house. Mrs. Higurashi picked up the handset, bringing it shakily to her ear.
“H-hello?”
“Is this Higurashi Etsuko?” said a somber male voice.
“Yes, this is she.”
“This is Officer Oonishi with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. I’m very sorry, but your daughter, Kagome…I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”
* * *
Kagome groaned as she sluggishly regained consciousness. Her mind felt heavy, as if there was something more than sleep holding her down. She cracked her eyes open and saw only gray. Upon opening them fully, her breath hitched in her throat and her mind went completely blank. Wh-where am I? She found herself in a chillingly plain room, the walls flat and painted in a uniformly drab shade. A single bulb hanging from the ceiling provided the only illumination, occasionally flickering and flirting with total darkness. Off to the side sat a small steel table, bent and wobbly, with an old fashioned black doctor’s bag perched innocently on its surface. Before her was a door, made of aged wood as bare as the walls except for a small doorknob. Though she had no way of knowing, Kagome imagined the door was thick indeed. Everything about the room reminded her of a dungeon.
She tried to rise only to discover that the task impossible; her wrists were handcuffed to the supports of the creaky metal chair on which she sat. She shook and rattled the chair with a surge of terrified adrenaline, but the old structure was easily up to her feeble struggles. Breathing heavily now, Kagome tried to reign in her rising panic. Desperately wracking her memory, she attempted to recall how she’d ended up in this predicament. She had been walking home from school, looking forward to a trip to the feudal era. Suddenly, the squeal of tires and the screams of frightened pedestrians rent the air. Before Kagome could locate the source of the trouble, a massive explosion ripped through the street, the shockwave sending her staggering back. When she raised her head, a truly horrifying sight greeted her. Just up the street, on the opposite side, a tanker truck had swerved off the road, smashed through parked cars, and careened into a building before exploding. A massive inferno burned on the sidewalk, sending acrid black smoke into the air, and Kagome prayed that no one had been caught in the blast.
There was chaos in the streets, with people running away from the fire, afraid it might spread. Kagome decided to join them, and had started to make her way back toward the school when strong arms grabbed her and yanked her abruptly to the side, into the back of a parked van. She recalled staring into the harsh eyes of the man holding his hand over her mouth, then feeling a prick in the arm. After that, her memory was blank.
Shivering in terror, Kagome took stock of her situation. She had obviously been kidnapped, though for what purpose she hadn’t the slightest idea. Though she was cuffed wrist and ankle to the chair, she remained fully clothed. Her captors had at least allowed her that small dignity. Perhaps some of her worst fears would not come to pass. Still, how on earth was she going to get out of this mess? Inuyasha would look for her, but would he be able to find her? Was she even still in Tokyo? She had many questions and no answers. But surely someone must have seen her get pulled into the van, right? Maybe the police were out looking for her at this very moment! That is, unless everyone had been too busy fleeing from the explosion to notice her abduction.
Kagome felt a wave of hopelessness at that thought. People could become incredibly single-minded when the fight or flight response kicked in. It was entirely possible that her abduction had gone unwitnessed. Perhaps her captors had engineered the accident just for that purpose? But why did they want her in the first place? What were they going to do with her?!
“Fuck!” Kagome swore, so utterly tired of unanswerable questions. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she didn’t attempt to hold them back. She slumped forward, crying softly to herself for a seemingly interminable amount of time. Eventually, her sobs wound down to sniffles, and she was finally able to think calmly. It was not as though she had never been kidnapped before, after all. She had talked her way out of the clutches of the Thunder Brothers all those months ago, and had survived every abduction since. She didn’t know how Inuyasha would find her, but he would. She just had to keep her head and stay alert. If an opportunity to escape presented itself, she would take it. Glowering determinately at the door, Kagome waited for her captors to show themselves.
She did not have long to wait. After a few minutes, the door creaked open and two men wearing ski masks walked in. Both were dressed in dark, nondescript slacks and shirts. One went over to the bag on the table and began rummaging through its contents, while the other stood before her, gazing thoughtfully down at her form which trembled with a combination of fear and anger. Kagome glared back at him, resolving to show as little of the former as possible. She felt a twinge of recognition at his eyes, but could not place them. Finally, she could take the quiet scrutiny no longer.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “What do you want with me?”
“I will be asking the questions,” the one in front of her replied icily, and Kagome gasped. That voice…
“She already recognized you,” the other man stated exasperatedly. “I told you wearing these stupid ski masks wouldn’t make any difference.”
Both men removed their masks, and Kagome was confronted with the two reporters from yesterday, though she was now sure they were not actually journalists. Now that she had an idea where this encounter was heading, she felt a fresh wave of fury flow through her. If she was right, then her own life wasn’t the only one in danger. Her innate protectiveness of Inuyasha swelled within her, and she spoke again, much more harshly than before.
“I’ll ask you again, what do you want with me?”
“And I will tell you again, Kagome. I will be asking the questions!”
Kagome laughed, the sound forced and hollow, but still a laugh. “You think I’m going to tell you anything?”
“You will,” her interrogator muttered darkly. “I guarantee that you will. Now, tell us everything you know about the strange, silver-haired man from the Midtown Tower the other day? Who is he? What is he?”
“I told you yesterday, I don’t know!”
“And even if she did,” the second man interjected, “she wouldn’t tell us.” He cast a meaningful look to his companion, who sighed and nodded reluctantly.
“I was hoping to avoid this,” he announced regretfully, turning aside as the more frightening of the two men advanced on her. Kagome shrunk back, her face going pale at the malicious expression on his face, and the long syringe clutched in his right hand.
“Wh-what are you doing?! What is that?!”
“Just something to make you more cooperative,” the man with the needle replied gruffly, seemingly enjoying her panic.
“Stay away from me!”
But her cries and struggles went for naught. The assailant took her bare thigh in a vice grip, swiftly shoving the needle into her flesh and pushing the plunger. Kagome whimpered at the pain, tears collecting behind her eyelids at the new violation. Already the drug was taking effect. Warmth flooded her body, beginning with her leg and quickly spreading to the rest of her extremities. A soothing haze enveloped her mind, pulling her down toward unconsciousness but never quite taking her there.
“Who is he?”
The voice seemed kind and gentle now, and Kagome nearly answered. At the last moment she regained some of herself, closing her mouth and shaking her head weakly.
“Who is he, Kagome?”
She resisted once more, but this time the urge was stronger, a compulsion so powerful that it seemed it had taken over her existence, conquered her very soul. At last, she could hold out no longer.
“H-his…n-n-name is…I-I-…Inuyasha.”
* * *
Inuyasha swore softly to himself. What the hell am I doing here? He didn’t know what he’d been hoping for. He had run to the school, sticking to the rooftops and presumably avoiding being seen. The school grounds were deserted, and in the dim light he had peered in through the windows of every classroom he could find. Kagome was not there. Now he sat on the edge of the rooftop, brooding over what course of action to take next.
He could certainly try to find a scent trail starting at the school. If he succeeded, it would be easy to follow for a short while, but would quickly become problematic. In the hustle and bustle of the city, with literally thousands of human and artificial scents potentially permeating every square foot of ground, tracking one individual scent would be incredibly difficult. He could probably do it, but it would be slow going, requiring him to basically crawl around on all fours pressing his nose to the pavement. That would be sure to draw unwanted attention, even if his picture wasn’t on all the news stations. He regretted not taking the time to alter his appearance before leaving the shrine. But there was nothing for it now. If Kagome really was in trouble, and he could not shake the irrepressible feeling that she was, then nothing else mattered. Avoiding recognition was of miniscule importance compared to her safety. The humans will see me, but they won’t be able to stop me. I’ll find K—”
“Ah!” he exclaimed, his hand flying to the source of the sudden stinging pain in his neck. His fingers brushed against a foreign object, and he quickly drew it out. He examined it, his eyes widening. It was a dart of some kind, with a clear, cylindrical body and orange feathering at one end. At the other end, the dart was capped by a long needle, tinged red with his blood.
No sooner had Inuyasha risen into a crouch and began to scan his surroundings when another bolt of stabbing pain erupted in his chest. Swearing, he yanked that dart out as well, already feeling the effects of whatever drug had been injected into his system. He tried to leap off the building, but his leg muscles would not respond. Sinking to his knees, he somehow managing to draw and transform Tetsusaiga. He slammed the sword into the roof, shielding his body from the approximate direction of the shooter. Forehead resting against the blade, he panted hard and tried desperately to maintain consciousness. The only thing keeping him upright was his tight grip on Tetsusaiga’s hilt, his arm fully extended and acting almost like a rope suspending his body. His vision swam, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. But it was not getting any worse; he was teetering on the brink of oblivion, but he did not think he would fall over the edge. That is, until a third dart embedded itself into the flesh of his hand. A few seconds later, the hanyou collapsed, finally surrendering to the irresistible darkness.
* * *
Kurou and Saburou sat silently across the table from one another, each lost in his own thoughts. Kagome was sleeping off the drugs in another room, cuffed by the ankle to the bedpost and locked in to make sure she wasn’t going anywhere. Given the fantastic—and downright unbelievable—tales the young girl had spun over the last two and a half hours, neither man quite knew what to think. “That was by far the strangest interrogation I’ve ever done,” Saburou declared softly, breaking the silence.
“Do you think her story was genuine?” Kurou asked.
“I don’t know. I see two possibilities: one, it’s all true, or two, she’s a fucking lunatic and believes it’s true.”
“Isn’t there a third possibility? Could she have simply lied to us?”
“Not a chance. That’s the best stuff you can get, and it’s highly illegal. You saw how the drugs affected her. No, she honestly believes what she told us to be the truth.”
“But it’s so—”
Saburou’s cell phone rang, and after looking at the caller ID, he put it on speaker and set it down in the middle of the table.
“Ishikawa?”
“Yes, boss,” the man on the other end of the call replied. “We got it.”
“You did?!”
“Yes. It came to the school just like you thought it would.”
“Excellent! Good job—wait, why are you saying ‘it’ instead of ‘he?’”
“Because whatever this thing is, it definitely isn’t human.”
“How can you tell?”
“Just by looking at it; the non-human features are not artificial. And I had to hit it with three—whoa, it’s stirring again!”
Crackling sounds of the cell phone being set down were broadcast through the phone, and Saburou thought he heard the telltale puff of a tranquilizer gun going off. Neither he nor Kurou breathed until Ishikawa’s voice came through again.
“Whew! Make that four darts.”
“Four darts!” Saburou repeated incredulously. “That’s enough to kill a bull elephant!”
“I know, but it barely put this guy to sleep.”
“Alright, you and Arai load him up quickly and bring him to the warehouse. And whatever you do, don’t let him wake up!”
“Understood, boss. Ishikawa out.”
The phone went dead, and Saburou put it back in his pocket. The room was silent once again, though now both men felt grins spreading across their faces.
“Well, Sasaki-san,” Saburou observed, “it appears we’ve caught ourselves a han—what the hell did she call it?”
“Hanyou.”
“Yeah, that. I’d still like to give Kagome a polygraph in the morning, but it looks like her story was true after all.”
“Sounds good to me. I can’t wait to study him!”
The scientist wrung his hands together excitedly, and Saburou smiled wider. And I can’t wait to turn that ‘hanyou’ into a big pile of cash. If Kurou thinks he’s getting away with paying us the usual rate this time, he’s delusional. I’m thinking more like seventy-five percent. Yeah, that ought to properly compensate us.
Saburou chuckled darkly to himself, but made no indication of his private thoughts. There was plenty of time for ‘negotiations’ later. Right now, he settled for dreaming of retirement on a small island in the Caribbean. Hell, maybe he’d buy an island of his own. Sitting upon this enormous cash cow, the sky was the limit.
* * *
Mrs. Higurashi sat alone in the dark room, the only illumination provided by the television. Her legs were curled up in front of her, and in her arms she clutched Kagome’s scorched school backpack. It had miraculously survived the inferno, and had allowed the police to identify the ash which remained of her daughter’s body. It had been about three hours since Officer Oonishi’s phone call, one of the worst moments of her life. In the time since the officer had informed her of Kagome’s death, she had done nothing but cry. Now her eyes were dry, though the track marks on her cheeks remained. She was numb; there were no more tears left.
Now she found herself watching the late night news, needing something to counter the oppressive darkness of the living room. She did not wish to be alone, but she also did not want to see anyone right now. She had not informed Souta or Kagome’s grandfather of the tragedy, and was not looking forward to the task. Most of all, she dreaded the moment when Inuyasha would return from his futile search, and she would have to tell him the news. He would take it harder than anyone.
Mrs. Higurashi squinted her eyes shut, leaning her head despondently against her knees. All her hopes and dreams for Kagome, her cautious optimism that her daughter and the hanyou she considered a son would realize how much they loved each other, were all gone. It was wicked irony that despite all the danger Kagome had put herself in on the other side of the well, her life was cut short by a freak accident in the modern era. The one thing Inuyasha could not protect her from. Oh, how his normally bright amber orbs would dull. Would he cry? Yes, she realized. Perhaps not in her presence, but he too would shed tears for Kagome. And perhaps he would realize his true feelings for her, too late, which would haunt him for the rest of his life.
“A tragedy in downtown Tokyo today,” the anchorwoman on TV said, distracting Mrs. Higurashi from her thoughts. The screen changed to an overhead helicopter view of a city street, a large section of which was blackened and smoking. The carnage left behind was largely indiscernible.
“A tanker truck swerved out of control into the side of a building and exploded, killing an unknown number of people on the sidewalk. So far the only victim who has been identified is fifteen-year-old Higurashi Kagome, a student at Fukuzawa Middle School.”
Mrs. Higurashi choked as a picture of Kagome appeared to the side of the crash scene. The image of her daughter brought fresh tears to her eyes, driving back the numbness which had settled over her.
“So sad to see a young life ended like that,” the male co-anchor interjected.
“Yes,” replied the woman, “our condolences go out to the families of all the victims.”
Mrs. Higurashi turned off the TV, finding darkness preferable to meaningless sympathy. At least now she could be alone with her despair. Curling further into herself, she cried until utter exhaustion finally claimed her, and she fell into a restless sleep.
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