InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Entrapment: A 21st Century Adventure ❯ A Break in the Case ( Chapter 12 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: King Baka 
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Adventure / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 10.01.2011 | Pages: 4 | Words: 7.5K | Visits: 818 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Adventure / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 10.01.2011 | Pages: 4 | Words: 7.5K | Visits: 818 | Status: Work In Progress
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.
A Break in the Case
Detective Arakaki Susumu knelt on the sidewalk, trying to tune out the sounds of passing automobiles, police officers telling people to stay back, and the frightened murmuring of the crowd. All was not well in the small city of Morioka; a man had been murdered, less than a block from the police station. A bullet had turned the back of his head into a crater, and spilled his blood in a large pool seeping into the pavement.
It had been a drive-by, which actually comforted Detective Arakaki somewhat. Serial killers did not make drive-byes. The murderers had selected this man individually, undoubtedly acting upon some provocation, and were not likely to repeat their crime unless similarly provoked in the future. It could have been a gang, an organized crime syndicate, or an outraged husband, but either way, this was not likely to turn into a national news story. Hopefully the case could be solved quickly and the mayor would not feel the need to tear the chief of police a new one.
None of that could comfort the victim, however, who continued to lay impassively, his dead eyes frozen open in a look of terror. Had he realized what was happening as the bullet lodged into his brain? Or was his expression now just a final reflex? Shaking his head, Arakaki pushed such useless thoughts from his mind and focused on the task at hand. Namely, finding out who killed this man and why. He stood as an officer approached to apprise him of the situation.
“The driver’s license in his pocket identifies him as Sasaki Kurou,” said the officer, “and he has a card from Iwate University. Professor of archaeology, apparently.”
“A professor?” Arakaki repeated, surprised. “Usually members of that profession know how to stay out of trouble.”
“Sir?”
“I’m guessing he was heading to the police station to report something. That’s why he was killed. What do the witnesses say?”
“Not much that’s helpful. A dark sedan pulled up to the curb, and the driver shot the guy point blank then drove off. Accounts vary as to the exact color, make, and model of the car. Nobody got a good look at the perp’s face.”
“The driver shot him?”
“Yes. They all agree on that.”
Now that was interesting, thought Arakaki. The fact that the driver was the shooter—the only shooter—made the possibility of gang involvement substantially less. It appeared the perpetrator was either an individual acting by himself, or a lone assassin carrying out a hit. The latter seemed more likely given Japan’s strict gun laws and the difficulty of obtaining firearms on the black market. Either way, this Sasaki Kurou had definitely made himself a target. Glancing down at the body once more, Arakaki frowned. What did you do to make someone want to kill you, professor?
“Get some uniforms over to his house,” he told the officer. “Nobody goes in or out. I’m heading down to Iwate University to see what I can dig up.”
“You want some backup?”
“Nope. You guys have enough on your plates without escorting me around. Tell forensics to hurry up so we can get this body off the street.”
Without further ado, the detective turned and stalked off back toward the police station, where his car was parked. He grimaced, rubbing his mostly bald head and muttering to himself as he went.
“Two years from retirement! I transfer to Morioka because it’s ‘nice and quiet.’ Oh, yeah, it’s real quiet!”
By sheer luck, the citizens of Morioka had wound up with the perfect man to solve this crime; Arakaki had almost thirty years experience as a detective in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department’s homicide division. But he had relocated to Morioka last year to get away from all that, and spend his remaining years living in peace with his wife. Now murder, his old friend, was poking its nose where it didn’t belong. Sure, there had been several homicides in Morioka since his transfer, but they were easily solved and the chief hadn’t seen the need to put his old veteran on any of the cases. Arakaki wasn’t even going to pretend he had a chance of getting off this one. Better to simply get to work, solve it quickly, and be done with it. Wasting time complaining would only prolong his suffering.
The dean of the university was naturally shocked to hear that one of his most brilliant professors had been brutally murdered in downtown Morioka. He immediately sent his secretary to show Detective Arakaki to the unfortunate man’s office and unlock it for him. Ever vigilant, the detective scanned the parking lots as they walked, spotting at least two dozen cars that matched the vague descriptions from the witnesses. He rolled his eyes; this case wasn’t about to break that easily.
Sasaki’s office was on the third floor of a building which looked old on the outside, but quite nice in the interior. The university had obviously taken steps to keep its highly-regarded faculty happy, and most importantly, present.
“It’s right here,” the secretary said as they approached the office. Arakaki froze as he heard loud thumping and rustling noises coming from inside.
“What the—” his escort started to say before he clamped his hand over her mouth.
“Don’t make a sound, okay?” he whispered. She nodded furiously, and he released her. She bolted, hurrying quickly but quietly back down the hallway. It was just as well; he didn’t need her staring at him with those big eyes, making him even more nervous. The sounds from inside the office were continuing, so at least whoever was there was unaware of his presence. Slowly he crept along the wall, drawing his trusty revolver from his belt. His breath came in short, irregular pants, and his heartbeat raced uncontrollably. There was nothing for it; his once steely nerves were not what they used to be.
“F-freeze!” he cried, kicking the door in and leveling his gun at the intruder. The surprised man was tall and well built, in his mid-twenties, but his obvious strength was belied by the dear-in-headlights look he wore as he stared down the barrel of Arakaki’s gun. The office was a mess, all the desk drawers yanked out and the contents emptied onto the floor. The intruder now held the computer in both hands, and Arakaki got the sneaking suspicion that he had been about to tear it open.
The young man flicked his gaze up to the old detective’s face, then back to the revolver vibrating in his shaking hands. He seemed to come to a decision, his right arm tensing toward the pistol on his belt.
“Don’t try it,” Arakaki ordered, almost pleading. But he knew it was futile. And when the young intruder sidestepped, dropping the computer and reaching for his weapon, the wily old veteran smoothly tracked him and fired. He felt no satisfaction at the resulting spurt of blood or his enemy’s collapse, only relief that it was not he who would be dying today.
Arakaki kept his gun on the prone man as he approached, kicking the pistol across the room. He reached for his cell phone and called for an ambulance, knowing that it would arrive far too late for this young criminal. In retrospect, it would have been more prudent to try to only injure and keep the probable killer alive for questioning. But in the heat of the moment, he had only been thinking of kill or be killed. And he was rusty, as the soaked collar of his shirt could attest. He was practically hyperventilating, and it was several more minutes before he felt calm enough to phone the station and call for backup. Finally, when he had done all he could, Arakaki slumped against the desk, heaving a tremendous sigh.
“I’m too old for this shit,” he declared, smiling wryly. (1)
After catching his breath, he had started to look around the victim’s ruined office. Most of Sasaki’s personal belongings had been strewn all over the place, haphazardly dumped and hastily searched. None of it was unusual for a university professor. The only item of interest had been in the pocket of the killer, identified by fingerprint as Yamazaki Toshiro, a repeat petty criminal with no real family ties. He struck Arakaki as a pawn in another person’s game. But he had murdered Sasaki Kurou; the bullet in Sasaki’s head was an exact match for Yamazaki’s gun, and his dark sedan had been found in the parking lot. Other than the typical wallet, lighter, and cigarettes, the only thing in Yamazaki’s pockets had been an ID card.
And what a strange, strange ID card it was. Highly worn, as if it had been buried in the ground for a couple centuries. It had Sasaki’s fingerprints on it, which along with the fact that Yamazaki had been about to smash the computer when he arrived, seemed to indicate that the card was what the young killer had been looking for. Speaking of the computer, the station’s technician had managed to salvage the hard drive despite the fall; the entire thing had been cleared of passwords and hooked up to Arakaki’s monitor. He had also been given a detailed internet history going back several months.
This is where the situation got really complicated. The internet history helped Arakaki figure out that the ID card belonged to a middle school girl from Tokyo named Higurashi Kagome. A little more research revealed that Kagome had recently been killed in a freak tanker accident. So what had Sasaki been doing with her ID card? They were not related in any way, and it would be strange for him to have her ID even if they were pen pals or something.
This query was a dead end until something else on the internet history caught Arakaki’s eye; the professor had spent a lot of time searching for information on the ‘Crimson Cat,’ the man or creature from that now famous footage near the Midtown Tower. Arakaki thought the whole thing was a hoax, or rather, he had before today. Now he wasn’t so sure. Either Sasaki was completely insane, prone to wild delusion, or he had stumbled upon something truly astounding.
Sensing a connection between this Higurashi girl and the mysterious ‘feline’ hero—that would certainly help to explain why the professor had been killed—Arakaki had used the search feature on Sasaki’s computer to look for documents containing the phrase ‘Crimson Cat.’ What he had found threatened to tear down everything he thought he knew about the world.
Inuyasha
Entry One
Given Name: Inuyasha (ee-new-yah-shah)
Family Name: ???
Common Nickname: Crimson Cat
Note – this is erroneous; Inuyasha, as his name suggests, is an inu-hanyou. Being referred to as a feline probably offends him.
Inuyasha is half-youkai, half-human. Hundreds of years ago, youkai were apparently not myth, but real creatures existing alongside humans. Everything seems to be exactly as Kagome confessed. See Higurashi Kagome – Entry One for more detail.
Though Inuyasha is half-youkai, his human side seems to dominate his appearance and his personality. Amber eyes, silver hair, claws—other than these things he looks like a normal human. He seems to feel human emotions and displays intelligence far above any animal. He does show some animalistic behavior, such as growling, but I sense he is far more human than beast.
Shows immense loyalty to Kagome, perhaps something more… Could he have romantic feelings for her? First words out of his mouth were “Where’s Kagome?” Became increasingly enraged when we would not produce her/let her go.
Appearance is human, but abilities are decidedly superhuman—this is where his youkai side comes in. Easily destroyed solid steel cage rated for at least male Siberian tiger. Shouted “Sankon Tetsusou” and used some sort of energy slicing attack from his claws. Incapacitated guards before they could react. Interesting that he did not kill them, however. Could he experience morality, an aversion to killing? Perhaps because of the similarities he shares with humans he possesses a certain affinity for them.
Displayed intelligence in attempting to trade myself for Kagome. Accurately determined that Yoshida did not care whether I lived or died. Threatened Yoshida, quite colorfully, but did not make move with knife at Kagome’s neck. Able to sedate him as a result.
Moving both subjects to new location. Will separate them, using threat on Kagome’s life and new, stronger cage to keep Inuyasha in check. Looking forward to studying him further.
There were at least a dozen entries like this, detailing everything from Inuyasha’s abilities, to Kagome’s abduction and interrogation. Arakaki felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor girl. But at least she was alive; Sasaki’s final entry had confirmed it. According to the late professor, both Inuyasha and Kagome were on the run, still being hunted by this Yoshida character and his lackeys. They were working their way across Japan, heading for the magical well on the grounds of the Higurashi shrine in Tokyo. They were trying to return to the past, to the land where Inuyasha was born, and where Kagome had spent much of the past school year while pretending to be sick.
It all seemed so farfetched, but the connections were there. Visual, documentary, testimonial, logical, the evidence was there. If Arakaki could believe what was in front of him—and he increasingly felt that he did—then Inuyasha was no threat to national security, as he knew some of the higher-ups feared. No, the real danger was in the hanyou’s pursuers. Whether or not Inuyasha meant human society any harm, those men, those criminals, had to be stopped. They were meddling in affairs that were not their concern, for all the wrong reasons. What they had done to that innocent girl… His mind was suddenly invaded by visions of his own daughter, tied to a chair and pumped full of drugs. Arakaki shook his head violently, and his imagination receded. Still, he knew the images would haunt his nightmares for some time. It had happened before—his first murder case, his first rape case. Sometimes the horrors of the world were too much for a father.
But in the grand scheme of things, his own personal feelings didn’t matter. As much as he would love to track down those bastards, lock them up and throw away the key, this whole scenario was way above his pay grade. He had done his part, solving the murder of Sasaki Kurou. If he didn’t inform the powers that be of these new developments, they might just run him out of Japan when they found out. Or throw him in prison. Neither option was appealing for an old man almost to retirement.
Sighing, Arakaki reached for the phone. He had a few calls to make.
“This must be Route 48,” Kagome mumbled, studying her map. They had come upon major highways before, but always later in the day, which was important because Inuyasha couldn’t hop them across while it was light. Only under the cover of darkness could they cross the man-made obstacles with reasonable certainty that they wouldn’t be seen. Neither of them wanted reports of miraculously leaping teenagers giving their pursuers an idea where they were.
Unfortunately, it was probably not even ten o’clock in the morning right now, and Inuyasha was not happy. They could try to find a way around, maybe through Sendai to the east or Tendo to the west, but that would involve a lot of effort for only a little time saved. They were probably better off continuing to avoid cities, anyway.
“Is there a way around it?” Inuyasha whined, sounding as though he already knew all that.
Kagome shook her head, hiding a grin. This being on the move all day thing was starting to get old; a vacation day was just what the doctor ordered.
“I don’t think so. We might as well just camp out here.”
Inuyasha growled. “Fine, but I’m carrying you longer tomorrow!”
“Okay.”
“Yes, I—huh?”
“What? You’re resting today, so I don’t mind if you want to run more tomorrow. If you’re up for it, that is,” she teased.
Inuyasha scowled. “I’m always ‘up for it,’ wench.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, smirking as he stomped off to find a suitable campsite, muttering under his breath. “Hey, look at the bright side,” Kagome called after him. “We’re almost halfway to Tokyo!”
“Keh.”
He still seemed slightly miffed as they set up camp, but the reminder of their progress had improved his mood. Still, Kagome didn’t think playing cards was a good idea; their last few games had been increasingly competitive. She had nearly used the rosary during the last one. No, she would wait until both of them were in genuinely good humor to propose another match.
But that didn’t leave many options to fill their sudden surplus of free time. She’d bought a book for herself, but didn’t want to read it all day. Inuyasha didn’t have anything to do except maybe hunt for dinner. Kagome drifted back to the last time they’d had nothing to do except talk to each other, that wonderful phone conversation amid horrible circumstances while both of them were in captivity. They had been so thrilled just to hear each other’s voices. And then she’d gotten him to talk about his past…why not try for a repeat? That brief glimpse into his youth had left her yearning for more.
“Tell me another story,” she said quietly, lying down on her front facing him with her head propped up in her hands. Her big brown eyes instantly chased away any thoughts Inuyasha might have possessed about refusing.
There were many stories he could tell, but most fell into one of two categories: rescuing humans or narrow brushes with death. He had already told Kagome one of the former and she wouldn’t want to hear the latter. He frowned, trying to come up with something different. Then an idea struck, and he grinned. It was tale both humorous and solemn, and he knew Kagome would enjoy it. Hell, he would enjoy retelling it, at least the first part.
“So this happened when I was still a runt,” he began. “Older though, big enough so I didn’t have to scrounge for food or take shit from anybody. I usually spent my human nights in the forest, but it was really cold the day before, so I was hanging around near a village hoping to find an abandoned hut or storage shed after dark. I guess my youki was still pretty strong though, because this monk tracked me down. My senses were starting to go, so he caught me by surprise. Right behind me he yells, ‘Foul youkai! Be gone from this land!’ So after nearly shitting my hakama, I turn around and boom—a handful of sutras are stuck to my chest.”
He paused here for dramatic effect, pleased to see that his lone audience member was hanging on his every word. “And if those sutras had worked, I could have been in real trouble. But they weren’t the right kind; must have been defensive charms or something. Or maybe he drew them wrong, I don’t know. Anyway, this monk—and it’s generous to call him that—who I now see is like fourteen years old, starts frantically searching his robes for the right sutras. And I’m just standing there, wondering to myself, ‘Is this guy for real?’
“So I say to him, ‘You probably shouldn’t let down your guard in front of an enemy, you know.’ He jumps like crazy, like he forgot I was there, then pulls out this little dagger about as long as my finger, and waves it at me like he’s gonna carve me up with it. Then he starts hopping around in what I think was supposed to be a fighting stance,” Inuyasha relayed, imitating the hapless monk for his giggling audience. “The best part was the totally serious expression on his face, like this was life or death and that was the best he could do. I couldn’t help it; I cracked up. Totally laughed my ass off.”
He joined Kagome in chuckling over the memory for a few moments. “So as I’m laughing I can see that he’s getting kind of pissed, and he starts looking for his sutras again. Then he yells ‘Aha!’ and pulls some out. I obviously wasn’t going to give him a chance to hit me with them. The next thing he knows, his papers are shredded and I’m lifting him off the ground by the collar of his robes. I was kinda mad myself now; the bastard had tried to purify me twice, after all. So I get real close and say, ‘You know that it would only drive away my youki if you stuck me with one of those, right? My human form would still be more than enough to kick your scrawny ass.’
“Well, from the look on his face told me, he must’ve almost pissed himself. Then, out of the blue, he starts bawling his fool head off, pleading with me not to hurt him and crying that he didn’t really want to be a monk, his father forced him into it, he had no talent, yada yada yada. And you can imagine me standing there shocked, wondering what the hell to do with this blubbering moron.”
Kagome giggled again; she could indeed picture Inuyasha’s confused, almost horrified expression. He was not exactly graceful when it came to dealing with emotional displays, even now. Back then he must have been completely inept.
“So now I’m getting really pissed,” Inuyasha continued, as if reading her thoughts. “I’ve never met such a pansy in my entire life, and his fucking tears are getting on my hand. He can cry about his life, when mine sucked so bad at the time? No, fuck that, and fuck him.” He took a breath to calm himself, forcing the dredged up indignation to recede back into his memory. “So I dropped him on his ass and yelled at him to shut the fuck up. Then I basically told him to be a man, stand up to his father, and do what he wanted to do.”
“Thank you for leaving out at least some of the colorful language I’m sure you used in that tirade,” Kagome said wryly.
“Keh,” he replied with a smirk. “He pulled himself together after that—barely. And since the sun was setting, I told him I wouldn’t beat the living shit out of him if he gave me a private place to stay for the night. So he did, and I got out of the cold without having to break in or reveal my time of weakness.”
“So what happened to him? Did he talk to his father?”
Inuyasha shrugged. “Dunno. Didn’t really care enough to find out.”
Kagome frowned. “Did you even get his name?”
“Nope.”
The miko sighed. Well, I guess I can’t really be surprised. He did have the social skills of a wet newspaper when we first met. It wasn’t really his fault, though. She placed the blame firmly on the shoulders of all the people and youkai who had rejected him.
“Well that was a fun story,” she remarked, “even though the ending kind of stunk.”
“It’s not over yet,” Inuyasha answered with a somber grin. “The day after I left the village was the day I met Boke.”
Kagome snapped to attention. Boke was a type of Japanese flower, and Inuyasha had spoken the word as if it was a name…a girl’s name. Had Inuyasha had some type of romance before Kikyou? Did he get his heart broken, contributing to his reluctance to open up? A hundred questions whirled through Kagome’s mind, but before she could find her voice, Inuyasha’s reached her ears.
“I named her that because she always loved to sniff them.”
Okay, now Kagome was confused. The only way Inuyasha would name a girl would be if… Oh, Kami! Please don’t tell me Boke was a baby! No teenage boy was ever prepared to take care of an infant by himself, let alone one who was essentially a wandering nomad. How could that scenario possibly end well?
“It’s not what you think,” Inuyasha reassured her, though whether he sensed her distress about the prospect of Boke being a child or a love interest she couldn’t say. Then he said something she never would have expected in a million years.
“Boke was a cat.”
Kagome stared blankly at him for a few seconds, then barked out a disbelieving laugh. “No way.”
Inuyasha scowled. “Yeah, she was.”
“No freaking way! You’re yanking my chain.”
“I’m telling you she was a cat!” Inuyasha growled, and Kagome’s mirth immediately vanished. His expression was too serious, and Inuyasha was not that good a liar. He would definitely not be getting angry if he was simply trying to pull one over on her.
“Sorry,” she apologized sincerely. “But you can see why I’m shocked. Dogs and cats are supposed to be mortal enemies.”
Inuyasha’s expression softened, and he seemed to concede her point. “I guess we did make an unusual pair. Me, a young inu-hanyou, and she a black and white knob-tailed cat. She came up to me as I was cooking some fish, and she looked so skinny and pathetic that I felt bad and gave her some. After that she wouldn’t stop following me around, and eventually I decided to keep her. I took her with me everywhere; we became inseparable. But she was old, barely made it through the winter. It was nice though, even for such a short time…to have someone who wasn’t afraid of me.”
“Wow,” Kagome mumbled, blinking back tears. The story about the monk had been nice, but she felt honored that he had wanted to share this memory with her. She was sure he had never confided Boke’s existence in anyone before. In fact, he was now gazing nervously at her, apparently worried that she would blab about his ‘soft side’ to their friends. But she smiled earnestly at him. Don’t worry, Inuyasha. I won’t abuse your trust.
“Come to think of it,” Kagome said, wanting to break the silence, “you’re pretty good with Kirara and Buyo. Kirara especially has always been fond of you.”
“Keh. Enough about me; it’s your turn to tell a story. Nothing too girly though.”
Kagome laughed. “I don’t have a lot of cool stories a guy would like. I was a pretty normal girl before I met you.”
Those words had seemed harmless enough, but instantly Kagome realized they were a mistake. Remorse flashed across Inuyasha’s countenance, leaving uncertainty in its wake. She knew what he was thinking, but before she could offer reassurances, he spoke.
“Do you ever…regret going through the well?”
That was what he said, but Kagome knew what he was really asking. Do you ever regret meeting me? The obvious answer was an emphatic ‘no,’ since she most certainly did not currently regret either going through the well or meeting him. But the word ‘ever’ in his question gave her pause. ‘Do you regret going through the well?’ was easy to answer because its focus was her present mindset. But ‘do you ever,’ or perhaps more accurately, ‘have you ever’ regretted was more difficult. That question invoked the past, and Kagome could not honestly say that she had never regretted knowing the feudal era or Inuyasha. And she couldn’t lie to him, not now, not over this.
“Yes, I have,” she answered quietly. To his credit, Inuyasha didn’t show much visible reaction. But his soft, defeated nod was enough to tear at her heartstrings.
“In the beginning,” she hastily explained, emphasizing every word in a silent plea for him to understand. “There were moments when I wished that I had never seen or done anything unusual, that I had my old, boring schoolgirl life back. But I always came to my senses soon after. I would realize how much I would miss everyone, how much I loved…being in the past,” she finished, blushing at her near slip. “Then I would feel foolish for wishing for my old life, even for a moment. And whatever had made me feel that way in the first place wouldn’t seem quite so upsetting.”
Inuyasha studied her carefully, then nodded again, this time in true understanding. It was no surprise that Kagome had occasionally felt that way; he was sure he knew—and was indeed responsible for—several of the upsetting times she had referred to. That thought in turn led to a rather disquieting revelation, though Kagome left him no opportunity to dwell on it.
“But really Inuyasha,” she continued desperately, “I don’t—”
“I know, Kagome,” he interrupted. “I know. It was a stupid question.” He stood and wiped his sweaty palms on his hakama. “I’m going hunting for a bit. Stay here.”
Kagome watched him leave, wanting to call after him but knowing it wasn’t necessary. She had seen it in his eyes; he truly did understand. That didn’t make her feel better, however, since he was probably going off to think about the direction their conversation had inexorably been heading. Stupid Kagome! Why’d you have to go and say something to make him think of her?
There was nothing for it. Hopefully he would work out whatever was bothering him and return in good spirits. In the meantime, Kagome grabbed her book and opened it. But after reading the same page four times and not comprehending any of it, she tossed the book aside and flopped back on the sleeping bag in frustration. Her thoughts were too jumbled; she couldn’t concentrate. But eventually, a cool breeze and the rhythmic sounds of nearby traffic lulled her into a light doze.
Inuyasha watched her from a nearby tree, not happy that he had managed to bring her troubling thoughts. What the hell is wrong with me? Even in the modern era I manage to remind her of Kikyou.
That had certainly not been his intention. But thinking of Kikyou had reminded him of how little of that he’d been doing lately, which made him feel guilty. It was no wonder, because the truth was that he didn’t miss Kikyou. By all rights he should; she was his first love, the one he owed his life to. Or did he? Kagome didn’t think so, and his once iron-clad conviction about that point had faded, but he still owed her something. At the very least, he owed it to her to remember her, to think about her often.
And yet, such a seemingly simple thing was actually very difficult. In the period shortly after his revival, a day had seldom gone by without memories of Kikyou plaguing his subconscious. Immediately after her resurrection, he had thought of her constantly. He still showed a kind of single-minded devotion when she came around. At other times nowadays, however, the phrase ‘out of sight, out of mind’ seemed appropriate. But why? What had changed?
The answer was exceedingly obvious. Kagome was replacing Kikyou in his mind just as she had already done in his life, and perhaps his heart. But was the younger miko essentially stealing him away from his former love, or was he free to make his own decision? How much did he owe Kikyou? He just wasn’t sure anymore. He supposed he could try to think about Kikyou more often, but it would be a struggle to remember the good times instead of how easily they had been tricked into assuming the worst about each other, or the kind words which made him feel wanted instead of the harsh, hurtful words she had spoken ever since that fateful day. And Kagome would know; that was the worst part. Pining for Kikyou meant hurting her reincarnation, and for something he didn’t really want to do anyway…the cost was too high.
Jaw set, Inuyasha came to a decision. He would not deny Kikyou entrance to his mind when thoughts of her arose, but neither would he actively attempt to remember her on a daily basis. That was how it was going to be, at least until he and Kagome were safely back in the feudal era. There was simply no place for Kikyou in this modern world, even if she only resided inside his subconscious.
And as for right now, a quick nap to rest his tired brain sounded wonderful. Hopping down from the tree, he headed back to camp.
Yoshida Saburou was raging, ranting, every other word a curse, angrier even than he had been when Kagome escaped. The men observing him could not help but feel that it was fortunate for Yamazaki that he was already dead. Their leader would not have granted him a quick death for his failure as the cop had done. In fact, that was probably part of Yoshida’s fury, that he could not exact painful retribution on the newly departed for his continuing and egregious mistakes. For now, Yamazaki’s former comrades sat silently, waiting for their leader’s ire to subside and trying not to draw attention to themselves.
It took awhile, but eventually Yoshida did calm down. Only then did he set about explaining the full situation to his subordinates.
“As you already know, that idiot Yamazaki got himself killed,” he spat viciously. “At Iwate University. By a fucking cop!”
“What was he doing there, boss?” Ishikawa asked through the phone sitting on the table. Perhaps being over a hundred miles away at his post in Tokyo had given him more courage than his comrades. (2)
“I gave him a very simple task—watch Sasaki and make sure he doesn’t go to the police. Then I told Yamazaki to eliminate him; he was becoming too much of a liability, and we didn’t need him anymore.”
“No arguments here, boss.”
“Good. So Yamazaki did actually complete the mission…in the most asinine way possible! The jackass shoots Sasaki in the back of the head, less than a block from the fucking police station!
“And I also told Yamazaki to break into Sasaki’s office at the university, find the ID card, and destroy the hard drive of his computer. He was also supposed to turn the house over to make sure Sasaki didn’t bring anything home, though I doubt he would have as long as we were there. This is why it was so important to kill Sasaki in a private place and dump the body later, or at least make it look like an accident. The cops wouldn’t have fucking flown to Iwate University if the professor hadn’t been murdered on their bloody doorstep!
“But no, the retarded asshole does it so every cop in Morioka is out looking for him, and gets caught in the act, then killed by an old geezer detective who’s almost ready to retire!”
Silence reigned over the gathering, no one daring to make a noise for fear of giving Yoshida a new outlet for his mounting frustration. But the mercenary captain kept control of himself, and was already moving into strategic mode.
“So, people,” he began evenly, appearing like some sort of deranged army general. “We must consider the very real possibility that the authorities now have the ID card and whatever information Sasaki stored on his computer.”
“Didn’t you tell him not to record anything electronically?” Ishikawa asked.
“Do you think he listened? Academics are all the same; they have to write everything down. I figured if we let Sasaki think he was getting away with it, it would be easy to deal with later. And it was—smash the hard drive and that’s it—until a persistent fuck-up shit on everything.”
“So worst case, the cops know what we know. So what? It’s not like we’ve never dealt with local cops before.”
“It won’t be local cops, you moron! The government is all up in arms over this Crimson Cat thing. They won’t let the locals handle a credible lead on his identity. The Higurashi shrine could soon be crawling with government agents. That is the worst-case scenario.”
Now the men were quiet for a different reason—fear of not getting paid. To think that all this was for nothing… Yoshida must have sensed their distress, for he took control of the gathering once more.
“We’re not giving up,” he stated firmly. “Even if we can’t set a trap at the shrine, we can still keep an eye on things, and take advantage of any opportunities that arise. Kagome is from this world; she can’t possibly live in the stone age forever. ‘Oh, I ran out of tampons and teen magazines! My life is over!’”
The imitation was poor, but effective; hearty laughter now filled the room. It was one of the things he had learned about being a leader—comedy, in the right situation, could do more good than any inspirational speech.
And he needed his people in good spirits, for it was a difficult task which now confronted them. They had to capture the hanyou and girl, or if that failed, kill them to eliminate anyone who could identify them. It was easy to change a name, but a face was another matter.
In a far more personal sense, the bloodthirsty warrior in him longed for a chance to go toe to toe with the hanyou, just to test his skills. He knew one thing—Inuyasha was underestimating him, and it made him want to slice the arrogance from his face, along with a few other things. But as long as there was money to be made, he would put his sadistic desires aside. If it became impossible to make a profit on this endeavor, however, an opportunity to match his knife against hanyou claws would be one hell of a consolation prize.
(1) Sorry, couldn’t resist the Murtaugh-ism
(2) I hinted at it, but I’ll just explain that Yoshida has moved his main base of operations southward. It makes sense, since they know Inuyasha and Kagome are heading to Tokyo.
Converting /tmp/phpuOZ9uJ to /dev/stdout
A Break in the Case
Detective Arakaki Susumu knelt on the sidewalk, trying to tune out the sounds of passing automobiles, police officers telling people to stay back, and the frightened murmuring of the crowd. All was not well in the small city of Morioka; a man had been murdered, less than a block from the police station. A bullet had turned the back of his head into a crater, and spilled his blood in a large pool seeping into the pavement.
It had been a drive-by, which actually comforted Detective Arakaki somewhat. Serial killers did not make drive-byes. The murderers had selected this man individually, undoubtedly acting upon some provocation, and were not likely to repeat their crime unless similarly provoked in the future. It could have been a gang, an organized crime syndicate, or an outraged husband, but either way, this was not likely to turn into a national news story. Hopefully the case could be solved quickly and the mayor would not feel the need to tear the chief of police a new one.
None of that could comfort the victim, however, who continued to lay impassively, his dead eyes frozen open in a look of terror. Had he realized what was happening as the bullet lodged into his brain? Or was his expression now just a final reflex? Shaking his head, Arakaki pushed such useless thoughts from his mind and focused on the task at hand. Namely, finding out who killed this man and why. He stood as an officer approached to apprise him of the situation.
“The driver’s license in his pocket identifies him as Sasaki Kurou,” said the officer, “and he has a card from Iwate University. Professor of archaeology, apparently.”
“A professor?” Arakaki repeated, surprised. “Usually members of that profession know how to stay out of trouble.”
“Sir?”
“I’m guessing he was heading to the police station to report something. That’s why he was killed. What do the witnesses say?”
“Not much that’s helpful. A dark sedan pulled up to the curb, and the driver shot the guy point blank then drove off. Accounts vary as to the exact color, make, and model of the car. Nobody got a good look at the perp’s face.”
“The driver shot him?”
“Yes. They all agree on that.”
Now that was interesting, thought Arakaki. The fact that the driver was the shooter—the only shooter—made the possibility of gang involvement substantially less. It appeared the perpetrator was either an individual acting by himself, or a lone assassin carrying out a hit. The latter seemed more likely given Japan’s strict gun laws and the difficulty of obtaining firearms on the black market. Either way, this Sasaki Kurou had definitely made himself a target. Glancing down at the body once more, Arakaki frowned. What did you do to make someone want to kill you, professor?
“Get some uniforms over to his house,” he told the officer. “Nobody goes in or out. I’m heading down to Iwate University to see what I can dig up.”
“You want some backup?”
“Nope. You guys have enough on your plates without escorting me around. Tell forensics to hurry up so we can get this body off the street.”
Without further ado, the detective turned and stalked off back toward the police station, where his car was parked. He grimaced, rubbing his mostly bald head and muttering to himself as he went.
“Two years from retirement! I transfer to Morioka because it’s ‘nice and quiet.’ Oh, yeah, it’s real quiet!”
By sheer luck, the citizens of Morioka had wound up with the perfect man to solve this crime; Arakaki had almost thirty years experience as a detective in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department’s homicide division. But he had relocated to Morioka last year to get away from all that, and spend his remaining years living in peace with his wife. Now murder, his old friend, was poking its nose where it didn’t belong. Sure, there had been several homicides in Morioka since his transfer, but they were easily solved and the chief hadn’t seen the need to put his old veteran on any of the cases. Arakaki wasn’t even going to pretend he had a chance of getting off this one. Better to simply get to work, solve it quickly, and be done with it. Wasting time complaining would only prolong his suffering.
The dean of the university was naturally shocked to hear that one of his most brilliant professors had been brutally murdered in downtown Morioka. He immediately sent his secretary to show Detective Arakaki to the unfortunate man’s office and unlock it for him. Ever vigilant, the detective scanned the parking lots as they walked, spotting at least two dozen cars that matched the vague descriptions from the witnesses. He rolled his eyes; this case wasn’t about to break that easily.
Sasaki’s office was on the third floor of a building which looked old on the outside, but quite nice in the interior. The university had obviously taken steps to keep its highly-regarded faculty happy, and most importantly, present.
“It’s right here,” the secretary said as they approached the office. Arakaki froze as he heard loud thumping and rustling noises coming from inside.
“What the—” his escort started to say before he clamped his hand over her mouth.
“Don’t make a sound, okay?” he whispered. She nodded furiously, and he released her. She bolted, hurrying quickly but quietly back down the hallway. It was just as well; he didn’t need her staring at him with those big eyes, making him even more nervous. The sounds from inside the office were continuing, so at least whoever was there was unaware of his presence. Slowly he crept along the wall, drawing his trusty revolver from his belt. His breath came in short, irregular pants, and his heartbeat raced uncontrollably. There was nothing for it; his once steely nerves were not what they used to be.
“F-freeze!” he cried, kicking the door in and leveling his gun at the intruder. The surprised man was tall and well built, in his mid-twenties, but his obvious strength was belied by the dear-in-headlights look he wore as he stared down the barrel of Arakaki’s gun. The office was a mess, all the desk drawers yanked out and the contents emptied onto the floor. The intruder now held the computer in both hands, and Arakaki got the sneaking suspicion that he had been about to tear it open.
The young man flicked his gaze up to the old detective’s face, then back to the revolver vibrating in his shaking hands. He seemed to come to a decision, his right arm tensing toward the pistol on his belt.
“Don’t try it,” Arakaki ordered, almost pleading. But he knew it was futile. And when the young intruder sidestepped, dropping the computer and reaching for his weapon, the wily old veteran smoothly tracked him and fired. He felt no satisfaction at the resulting spurt of blood or his enemy’s collapse, only relief that it was not he who would be dying today.
Arakaki kept his gun on the prone man as he approached, kicking the pistol across the room. He reached for his cell phone and called for an ambulance, knowing that it would arrive far too late for this young criminal. In retrospect, it would have been more prudent to try to only injure and keep the probable killer alive for questioning. But in the heat of the moment, he had only been thinking of kill or be killed. And he was rusty, as the soaked collar of his shirt could attest. He was practically hyperventilating, and it was several more minutes before he felt calm enough to phone the station and call for backup. Finally, when he had done all he could, Arakaki slumped against the desk, heaving a tremendous sigh.
“I’m too old for this shit,” he declared, smiling wryly. (1)
* * *
Arakaki slumped back in his chair, feeling as though the few remaining hairs on the top of his head were about to pop out from stress. This was shaping up to be the single most convoluted case of his career. The connections were almost unfathomable, but they were there, solid, leading up to levels of clearance a lowly police detective had certainly never qualified for. Unfathomable. After catching his breath, he had started to look around the victim’s ruined office. Most of Sasaki’s personal belongings had been strewn all over the place, haphazardly dumped and hastily searched. None of it was unusual for a university professor. The only item of interest had been in the pocket of the killer, identified by fingerprint as Yamazaki Toshiro, a repeat petty criminal with no real family ties. He struck Arakaki as a pawn in another person’s game. But he had murdered Sasaki Kurou; the bullet in Sasaki’s head was an exact match for Yamazaki’s gun, and his dark sedan had been found in the parking lot. Other than the typical wallet, lighter, and cigarettes, the only thing in Yamazaki’s pockets had been an ID card.
And what a strange, strange ID card it was. Highly worn, as if it had been buried in the ground for a couple centuries. It had Sasaki’s fingerprints on it, which along with the fact that Yamazaki had been about to smash the computer when he arrived, seemed to indicate that the card was what the young killer had been looking for. Speaking of the computer, the station’s technician had managed to salvage the hard drive despite the fall; the entire thing had been cleared of passwords and hooked up to Arakaki’s monitor. He had also been given a detailed internet history going back several months.
This is where the situation got really complicated. The internet history helped Arakaki figure out that the ID card belonged to a middle school girl from Tokyo named Higurashi Kagome. A little more research revealed that Kagome had recently been killed in a freak tanker accident. So what had Sasaki been doing with her ID card? They were not related in any way, and it would be strange for him to have her ID even if they were pen pals or something.
This query was a dead end until something else on the internet history caught Arakaki’s eye; the professor had spent a lot of time searching for information on the ‘Crimson Cat,’ the man or creature from that now famous footage near the Midtown Tower. Arakaki thought the whole thing was a hoax, or rather, he had before today. Now he wasn’t so sure. Either Sasaki was completely insane, prone to wild delusion, or he had stumbled upon something truly astounding.
Sensing a connection between this Higurashi girl and the mysterious ‘feline’ hero—that would certainly help to explain why the professor had been killed—Arakaki had used the search feature on Sasaki’s computer to look for documents containing the phrase ‘Crimson Cat.’ What he had found threatened to tear down everything he thought he knew about the world.
Inuyasha
Entry One
Given Name: Inuyasha (ee-new-yah-shah)
Family Name: ???
Common Nickname: Crimson Cat
Note – this is erroneous; Inuyasha, as his name suggests, is an inu-hanyou. Being referred to as a feline probably offends him.
Inuyasha is half-youkai, half-human. Hundreds of years ago, youkai were apparently not myth, but real creatures existing alongside humans. Everything seems to be exactly as Kagome confessed. See Higurashi Kagome – Entry One for more detail.
Though Inuyasha is half-youkai, his human side seems to dominate his appearance and his personality. Amber eyes, silver hair, claws—other than these things he looks like a normal human. He seems to feel human emotions and displays intelligence far above any animal. He does show some animalistic behavior, such as growling, but I sense he is far more human than beast.
Shows immense loyalty to Kagome, perhaps something more… Could he have romantic feelings for her? First words out of his mouth were “Where’s Kagome?” Became increasingly enraged when we would not produce her/let her go.
Appearance is human, but abilities are decidedly superhuman—this is where his youkai side comes in. Easily destroyed solid steel cage rated for at least male Siberian tiger. Shouted “Sankon Tetsusou” and used some sort of energy slicing attack from his claws. Incapacitated guards before they could react. Interesting that he did not kill them, however. Could he experience morality, an aversion to killing? Perhaps because of the similarities he shares with humans he possesses a certain affinity for them.
Displayed intelligence in attempting to trade myself for Kagome. Accurately determined that Yoshida did not care whether I lived or died. Threatened Yoshida, quite colorfully, but did not make move with knife at Kagome’s neck. Able to sedate him as a result.
Moving both subjects to new location. Will separate them, using threat on Kagome’s life and new, stronger cage to keep Inuyasha in check. Looking forward to studying him further.
There were at least a dozen entries like this, detailing everything from Inuyasha’s abilities, to Kagome’s abduction and interrogation. Arakaki felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor girl. But at least she was alive; Sasaki’s final entry had confirmed it. According to the late professor, both Inuyasha and Kagome were on the run, still being hunted by this Yoshida character and his lackeys. They were working their way across Japan, heading for the magical well on the grounds of the Higurashi shrine in Tokyo. They were trying to return to the past, to the land where Inuyasha was born, and where Kagome had spent much of the past school year while pretending to be sick.
It all seemed so farfetched, but the connections were there. Visual, documentary, testimonial, logical, the evidence was there. If Arakaki could believe what was in front of him—and he increasingly felt that he did—then Inuyasha was no threat to national security, as he knew some of the higher-ups feared. No, the real danger was in the hanyou’s pursuers. Whether or not Inuyasha meant human society any harm, those men, those criminals, had to be stopped. They were meddling in affairs that were not their concern, for all the wrong reasons. What they had done to that innocent girl… His mind was suddenly invaded by visions of his own daughter, tied to a chair and pumped full of drugs. Arakaki shook his head violently, and his imagination receded. Still, he knew the images would haunt his nightmares for some time. It had happened before—his first murder case, his first rape case. Sometimes the horrors of the world were too much for a father.
But in the grand scheme of things, his own personal feelings didn’t matter. As much as he would love to track down those bastards, lock them up and throw away the key, this whole scenario was way above his pay grade. He had done his part, solving the murder of Sasaki Kurou. If he didn’t inform the powers that be of these new developments, they might just run him out of Japan when they found out. Or throw him in prison. Neither option was appealing for an old man almost to retirement.
Sighing, Arakaki reached for the phone. He had a few calls to make.
* * *
“Dammit!” Inuyasha swore. “Just fucking perfect. It’s not even afternoon yet!” “This must be Route 48,” Kagome mumbled, studying her map. They had come upon major highways before, but always later in the day, which was important because Inuyasha couldn’t hop them across while it was light. Only under the cover of darkness could they cross the man-made obstacles with reasonable certainty that they wouldn’t be seen. Neither of them wanted reports of miraculously leaping teenagers giving their pursuers an idea where they were.
Unfortunately, it was probably not even ten o’clock in the morning right now, and Inuyasha was not happy. They could try to find a way around, maybe through Sendai to the east or Tendo to the west, but that would involve a lot of effort for only a little time saved. They were probably better off continuing to avoid cities, anyway.
“Is there a way around it?” Inuyasha whined, sounding as though he already knew all that.
Kagome shook her head, hiding a grin. This being on the move all day thing was starting to get old; a vacation day was just what the doctor ordered.
“I don’t think so. We might as well just camp out here.”
Inuyasha growled. “Fine, but I’m carrying you longer tomorrow!”
“Okay.”
“Yes, I—huh?”
“What? You’re resting today, so I don’t mind if you want to run more tomorrow. If you’re up for it, that is,” she teased.
Inuyasha scowled. “I’m always ‘up for it,’ wench.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, smirking as he stomped off to find a suitable campsite, muttering under his breath. “Hey, look at the bright side,” Kagome called after him. “We’re almost halfway to Tokyo!”
“Keh.”
He still seemed slightly miffed as they set up camp, but the reminder of their progress had improved his mood. Still, Kagome didn’t think playing cards was a good idea; their last few games had been increasingly competitive. She had nearly used the rosary during the last one. No, she would wait until both of them were in genuinely good humor to propose another match.
But that didn’t leave many options to fill their sudden surplus of free time. She’d bought a book for herself, but didn’t want to read it all day. Inuyasha didn’t have anything to do except maybe hunt for dinner. Kagome drifted back to the last time they’d had nothing to do except talk to each other, that wonderful phone conversation amid horrible circumstances while both of them were in captivity. They had been so thrilled just to hear each other’s voices. And then she’d gotten him to talk about his past…why not try for a repeat? That brief glimpse into his youth had left her yearning for more.
“Tell me another story,” she said quietly, lying down on her front facing him with her head propped up in her hands. Her big brown eyes instantly chased away any thoughts Inuyasha might have possessed about refusing.
There were many stories he could tell, but most fell into one of two categories: rescuing humans or narrow brushes with death. He had already told Kagome one of the former and she wouldn’t want to hear the latter. He frowned, trying to come up with something different. Then an idea struck, and he grinned. It was tale both humorous and solemn, and he knew Kagome would enjoy it. Hell, he would enjoy retelling it, at least the first part.
“So this happened when I was still a runt,” he began. “Older though, big enough so I didn’t have to scrounge for food or take shit from anybody. I usually spent my human nights in the forest, but it was really cold the day before, so I was hanging around near a village hoping to find an abandoned hut or storage shed after dark. I guess my youki was still pretty strong though, because this monk tracked me down. My senses were starting to go, so he caught me by surprise. Right behind me he yells, ‘Foul youkai! Be gone from this land!’ So after nearly shitting my hakama, I turn around and boom—a handful of sutras are stuck to my chest.”
He paused here for dramatic effect, pleased to see that his lone audience member was hanging on his every word. “And if those sutras had worked, I could have been in real trouble. But they weren’t the right kind; must have been defensive charms or something. Or maybe he drew them wrong, I don’t know. Anyway, this monk—and it’s generous to call him that—who I now see is like fourteen years old, starts frantically searching his robes for the right sutras. And I’m just standing there, wondering to myself, ‘Is this guy for real?’
“So I say to him, ‘You probably shouldn’t let down your guard in front of an enemy, you know.’ He jumps like crazy, like he forgot I was there, then pulls out this little dagger about as long as my finger, and waves it at me like he’s gonna carve me up with it. Then he starts hopping around in what I think was supposed to be a fighting stance,” Inuyasha relayed, imitating the hapless monk for his giggling audience. “The best part was the totally serious expression on his face, like this was life or death and that was the best he could do. I couldn’t help it; I cracked up. Totally laughed my ass off.”
He joined Kagome in chuckling over the memory for a few moments. “So as I’m laughing I can see that he’s getting kind of pissed, and he starts looking for his sutras again. Then he yells ‘Aha!’ and pulls some out. I obviously wasn’t going to give him a chance to hit me with them. The next thing he knows, his papers are shredded and I’m lifting him off the ground by the collar of his robes. I was kinda mad myself now; the bastard had tried to purify me twice, after all. So I get real close and say, ‘You know that it would only drive away my youki if you stuck me with one of those, right? My human form would still be more than enough to kick your scrawny ass.’
“Well, from the look on his face told me, he must’ve almost pissed himself. Then, out of the blue, he starts bawling his fool head off, pleading with me not to hurt him and crying that he didn’t really want to be a monk, his father forced him into it, he had no talent, yada yada yada. And you can imagine me standing there shocked, wondering what the hell to do with this blubbering moron.”
Kagome giggled again; she could indeed picture Inuyasha’s confused, almost horrified expression. He was not exactly graceful when it came to dealing with emotional displays, even now. Back then he must have been completely inept.
“So now I’m getting really pissed,” Inuyasha continued, as if reading her thoughts. “I’ve never met such a pansy in my entire life, and his fucking tears are getting on my hand. He can cry about his life, when mine sucked so bad at the time? No, fuck that, and fuck him.” He took a breath to calm himself, forcing the dredged up indignation to recede back into his memory. “So I dropped him on his ass and yelled at him to shut the fuck up. Then I basically told him to be a man, stand up to his father, and do what he wanted to do.”
“Thank you for leaving out at least some of the colorful language I’m sure you used in that tirade,” Kagome said wryly.
“Keh,” he replied with a smirk. “He pulled himself together after that—barely. And since the sun was setting, I told him I wouldn’t beat the living shit out of him if he gave me a private place to stay for the night. So he did, and I got out of the cold without having to break in or reveal my time of weakness.”
“So what happened to him? Did he talk to his father?”
Inuyasha shrugged. “Dunno. Didn’t really care enough to find out.”
Kagome frowned. “Did you even get his name?”
“Nope.”
The miko sighed. Well, I guess I can’t really be surprised. He did have the social skills of a wet newspaper when we first met. It wasn’t really his fault, though. She placed the blame firmly on the shoulders of all the people and youkai who had rejected him.
“Well that was a fun story,” she remarked, “even though the ending kind of stunk.”
“It’s not over yet,” Inuyasha answered with a somber grin. “The day after I left the village was the day I met Boke.”
Kagome snapped to attention. Boke was a type of Japanese flower, and Inuyasha had spoken the word as if it was a name…a girl’s name. Had Inuyasha had some type of romance before Kikyou? Did he get his heart broken, contributing to his reluctance to open up? A hundred questions whirled through Kagome’s mind, but before she could find her voice, Inuyasha’s reached her ears.
“I named her that because she always loved to sniff them.”
Okay, now Kagome was confused. The only way Inuyasha would name a girl would be if… Oh, Kami! Please don’t tell me Boke was a baby! No teenage boy was ever prepared to take care of an infant by himself, let alone one who was essentially a wandering nomad. How could that scenario possibly end well?
“It’s not what you think,” Inuyasha reassured her, though whether he sensed her distress about the prospect of Boke being a child or a love interest she couldn’t say. Then he said something she never would have expected in a million years.
“Boke was a cat.”
Kagome stared blankly at him for a few seconds, then barked out a disbelieving laugh. “No way.”
Inuyasha scowled. “Yeah, she was.”
“No freaking way! You’re yanking my chain.”
“I’m telling you she was a cat!” Inuyasha growled, and Kagome’s mirth immediately vanished. His expression was too serious, and Inuyasha was not that good a liar. He would definitely not be getting angry if he was simply trying to pull one over on her.
“Sorry,” she apologized sincerely. “But you can see why I’m shocked. Dogs and cats are supposed to be mortal enemies.”
Inuyasha’s expression softened, and he seemed to concede her point. “I guess we did make an unusual pair. Me, a young inu-hanyou, and she a black and white knob-tailed cat. She came up to me as I was cooking some fish, and she looked so skinny and pathetic that I felt bad and gave her some. After that she wouldn’t stop following me around, and eventually I decided to keep her. I took her with me everywhere; we became inseparable. But she was old, barely made it through the winter. It was nice though, even for such a short time…to have someone who wasn’t afraid of me.”
“Wow,” Kagome mumbled, blinking back tears. The story about the monk had been nice, but she felt honored that he had wanted to share this memory with her. She was sure he had never confided Boke’s existence in anyone before. In fact, he was now gazing nervously at her, apparently worried that she would blab about his ‘soft side’ to their friends. But she smiled earnestly at him. Don’t worry, Inuyasha. I won’t abuse your trust.
“Come to think of it,” Kagome said, wanting to break the silence, “you’re pretty good with Kirara and Buyo. Kirara especially has always been fond of you.”
“Keh. Enough about me; it’s your turn to tell a story. Nothing too girly though.”
Kagome laughed. “I don’t have a lot of cool stories a guy would like. I was a pretty normal girl before I met you.”
Those words had seemed harmless enough, but instantly Kagome realized they were a mistake. Remorse flashed across Inuyasha’s countenance, leaving uncertainty in its wake. She knew what he was thinking, but before she could offer reassurances, he spoke.
“Do you ever…regret going through the well?”
That was what he said, but Kagome knew what he was really asking. Do you ever regret meeting me? The obvious answer was an emphatic ‘no,’ since she most certainly did not currently regret either going through the well or meeting him. But the word ‘ever’ in his question gave her pause. ‘Do you regret going through the well?’ was easy to answer because its focus was her present mindset. But ‘do you ever,’ or perhaps more accurately, ‘have you ever’ regretted was more difficult. That question invoked the past, and Kagome could not honestly say that she had never regretted knowing the feudal era or Inuyasha. And she couldn’t lie to him, not now, not over this.
“Yes, I have,” she answered quietly. To his credit, Inuyasha didn’t show much visible reaction. But his soft, defeated nod was enough to tear at her heartstrings.
“In the beginning,” she hastily explained, emphasizing every word in a silent plea for him to understand. “There were moments when I wished that I had never seen or done anything unusual, that I had my old, boring schoolgirl life back. But I always came to my senses soon after. I would realize how much I would miss everyone, how much I loved…being in the past,” she finished, blushing at her near slip. “Then I would feel foolish for wishing for my old life, even for a moment. And whatever had made me feel that way in the first place wouldn’t seem quite so upsetting.”
Inuyasha studied her carefully, then nodded again, this time in true understanding. It was no surprise that Kagome had occasionally felt that way; he was sure he knew—and was indeed responsible for—several of the upsetting times she had referred to. That thought in turn led to a rather disquieting revelation, though Kagome left him no opportunity to dwell on it.
“But really Inuyasha,” she continued desperately, “I don’t—”
“I know, Kagome,” he interrupted. “I know. It was a stupid question.” He stood and wiped his sweaty palms on his hakama. “I’m going hunting for a bit. Stay here.”
Kagome watched him leave, wanting to call after him but knowing it wasn’t necessary. She had seen it in his eyes; he truly did understand. That didn’t make her feel better, however, since he was probably going off to think about the direction their conversation had inexorably been heading. Stupid Kagome! Why’d you have to go and say something to make him think of her?
There was nothing for it. Hopefully he would work out whatever was bothering him and return in good spirits. In the meantime, Kagome grabbed her book and opened it. But after reading the same page four times and not comprehending any of it, she tossed the book aside and flopped back on the sleeping bag in frustration. Her thoughts were too jumbled; she couldn’t concentrate. But eventually, a cool breeze and the rhythmic sounds of nearby traffic lulled her into a light doze.
Inuyasha watched her from a nearby tree, not happy that he had managed to bring her troubling thoughts. What the hell is wrong with me? Even in the modern era I manage to remind her of Kikyou.
That had certainly not been his intention. But thinking of Kikyou had reminded him of how little of that he’d been doing lately, which made him feel guilty. It was no wonder, because the truth was that he didn’t miss Kikyou. By all rights he should; she was his first love, the one he owed his life to. Or did he? Kagome didn’t think so, and his once iron-clad conviction about that point had faded, but he still owed her something. At the very least, he owed it to her to remember her, to think about her often.
And yet, such a seemingly simple thing was actually very difficult. In the period shortly after his revival, a day had seldom gone by without memories of Kikyou plaguing his subconscious. Immediately after her resurrection, he had thought of her constantly. He still showed a kind of single-minded devotion when she came around. At other times nowadays, however, the phrase ‘out of sight, out of mind’ seemed appropriate. But why? What had changed?
The answer was exceedingly obvious. Kagome was replacing Kikyou in his mind just as she had already done in his life, and perhaps his heart. But was the younger miko essentially stealing him away from his former love, or was he free to make his own decision? How much did he owe Kikyou? He just wasn’t sure anymore. He supposed he could try to think about Kikyou more often, but it would be a struggle to remember the good times instead of how easily they had been tricked into assuming the worst about each other, or the kind words which made him feel wanted instead of the harsh, hurtful words she had spoken ever since that fateful day. And Kagome would know; that was the worst part. Pining for Kikyou meant hurting her reincarnation, and for something he didn’t really want to do anyway…the cost was too high.
Jaw set, Inuyasha came to a decision. He would not deny Kikyou entrance to his mind when thoughts of her arose, but neither would he actively attempt to remember her on a daily basis. That was how it was going to be, at least until he and Kagome were safely back in the feudal era. There was simply no place for Kikyou in this modern world, even if she only resided inside his subconscious.
And as for right now, a quick nap to rest his tired brain sounded wonderful. Hopping down from the tree, he headed back to camp.
* * *
“That moron! That fucking incompetent son of a bitch!” Yoshida Saburou was raging, ranting, every other word a curse, angrier even than he had been when Kagome escaped. The men observing him could not help but feel that it was fortunate for Yamazaki that he was already dead. Their leader would not have granted him a quick death for his failure as the cop had done. In fact, that was probably part of Yoshida’s fury, that he could not exact painful retribution on the newly departed for his continuing and egregious mistakes. For now, Yamazaki’s former comrades sat silently, waiting for their leader’s ire to subside and trying not to draw attention to themselves.
It took awhile, but eventually Yoshida did calm down. Only then did he set about explaining the full situation to his subordinates.
“As you already know, that idiot Yamazaki got himself killed,” he spat viciously. “At Iwate University. By a fucking cop!”
“What was he doing there, boss?” Ishikawa asked through the phone sitting on the table. Perhaps being over a hundred miles away at his post in Tokyo had given him more courage than his comrades. (2)
“I gave him a very simple task—watch Sasaki and make sure he doesn’t go to the police. Then I told Yamazaki to eliminate him; he was becoming too much of a liability, and we didn’t need him anymore.”
“No arguments here, boss.”
“Good. So Yamazaki did actually complete the mission…in the most asinine way possible! The jackass shoots Sasaki in the back of the head, less than a block from the fucking police station!
“And I also told Yamazaki to break into Sasaki’s office at the university, find the ID card, and destroy the hard drive of his computer. He was also supposed to turn the house over to make sure Sasaki didn’t bring anything home, though I doubt he would have as long as we were there. This is why it was so important to kill Sasaki in a private place and dump the body later, or at least make it look like an accident. The cops wouldn’t have fucking flown to Iwate University if the professor hadn’t been murdered on their bloody doorstep!
“But no, the retarded asshole does it so every cop in Morioka is out looking for him, and gets caught in the act, then killed by an old geezer detective who’s almost ready to retire!”
Silence reigned over the gathering, no one daring to make a noise for fear of giving Yoshida a new outlet for his mounting frustration. But the mercenary captain kept control of himself, and was already moving into strategic mode.
“So, people,” he began evenly, appearing like some sort of deranged army general. “We must consider the very real possibility that the authorities now have the ID card and whatever information Sasaki stored on his computer.”
“Didn’t you tell him not to record anything electronically?” Ishikawa asked.
“Do you think he listened? Academics are all the same; they have to write everything down. I figured if we let Sasaki think he was getting away with it, it would be easy to deal with later. And it was—smash the hard drive and that’s it—until a persistent fuck-up shit on everything.”
“So worst case, the cops know what we know. So what? It’s not like we’ve never dealt with local cops before.”
“It won’t be local cops, you moron! The government is all up in arms over this Crimson Cat thing. They won’t let the locals handle a credible lead on his identity. The Higurashi shrine could soon be crawling with government agents. That is the worst-case scenario.”
Now the men were quiet for a different reason—fear of not getting paid. To think that all this was for nothing… Yoshida must have sensed their distress, for he took control of the gathering once more.
“We’re not giving up,” he stated firmly. “Even if we can’t set a trap at the shrine, we can still keep an eye on things, and take advantage of any opportunities that arise. Kagome is from this world; she can’t possibly live in the stone age forever. ‘Oh, I ran out of tampons and teen magazines! My life is over!’”
The imitation was poor, but effective; hearty laughter now filled the room. It was one of the things he had learned about being a leader—comedy, in the right situation, could do more good than any inspirational speech.
And he needed his people in good spirits, for it was a difficult task which now confronted them. They had to capture the hanyou and girl, or if that failed, kill them to eliminate anyone who could identify them. It was easy to change a name, but a face was another matter.
In a far more personal sense, the bloodthirsty warrior in him longed for a chance to go toe to toe with the hanyou, just to test his skills. He knew one thing—Inuyasha was underestimating him, and it made him want to slice the arrogance from his face, along with a few other things. But as long as there was money to be made, he would put his sadistic desires aside. If it became impossible to make a profit on this endeavor, however, an opportunity to match his knife against hanyou claws would be one hell of a consolation prize.
(1) Sorry, couldn’t resist the Murtaugh-ism
(2) I hinted at it, but I’ll just explain that Yoshida has moved his main base of operations southward. It makes sense, since they know Inuyasha and Kagome are heading to Tokyo.
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