InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Entrapment: A 21st Century Adventure ❯ Naicho ( Chapter 14 )
[ 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: 11.05.2011 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.4K | Visits: 826 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Adventure / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 11.05.2011 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.4K | Visits: 826 | 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.
Naicho
Miyake Izumi strode purposefully down the long hallway, a victorious smirk pulling up one corner of her mouth. Clutched tightly in her hand was a briefcase, containing a treasured document, written authorization to initiate and conduct a highly classified operation know by the codename Seeing Red. Her boss had signed the paperwork a few minutes ago, expressing full confidence that she would get the job done and do the agency proud.
He had good reason for his faith. In her thirty-five years at the Naikaku Jôhô Chôsashitsu, or Naicho for short, Miyake had risen from a lowly intern to the position of Deputy Chief, reporting only to the man who had been her senior for the past five years. (1) If such advancement was impressive for a man, it was simply incredible for a woman to reach such heights in what was still a male-dominated field. Her career had been extremely difficult back when she’d first started; she had nearly quit several times. She had been relegated to performing menial tasks, held back by male superiors who saw her as a beautiful woman—and more often than not, a possible love interest—rather than a competent colleague. It had gotten so bad that she used to curse her good looks, and go to work without makeup just to seem less feminine.
But all that changed when she was given her first real opportunity to prove herself, thanks to a fateful car accident which put her boss’s first choice on crutches. The execution of that operation had been so clean, so perfect, that it had earned her an immediate promotion so her former boss was suddenly her subordinate. And she had never looked back.
Now in her late fifties, Miyake Izumi was a powerful presence within the agency, a force all her own. Her reputation generated near universal respect, and she demanded the same. For she had never taken the easy way out; she had never played the sympathy card or accepted the advances or favors of an amorous superior. Maintaining her integrity had held her back in the past, but now she was admired for it. The men and women serving under her, the latter group employed in large part thanks to her trailblazing, affectionately called her the “tiny giant,” a reference to her small physical stature and massive aura. It was true that she was short, and no longer blessed with youthful beauty. Years of stress had left their mark on her face, which made her appear older than she actually was. It was no matter; she almost preferred her body this way. Short and slightly plump, she dressed and carried herself with constant professionalism, and just enough femininity to remind people that she was in fact a woman. That was one thing she would never allow them to forget. Things would never go back to the way they used to be.
So Deputy Chief Miyake no longer had to prove herself, but she took her job no less seriously than she had as a raw, fresh-faced intern. No matter how it turned out, Seeing Red promised to be a special case. Naicho normally stuck to the intelligence-gathering sector, occasionally engaging in small-scale operations, mostly against organized crime syndicates. But the Prime Minister had taken a special interest in this case, and put his best people on it. At his insistence, Miyake’s boss had granted her a virtually unrestricted right to requisition whatever personnel and material she required. It was the grandest mandate she had ever been given, and it signified the importance of this mission.
It was also no surprise. The Japanese government had an Unidentified Leaping Object on its hands, one hundreds of witnesses swore to. And the video evidence, examined by dozens of experts at several agencies, including Naicho, was unquestioningly genuine. Debate still raged at every level as to who or what the red-clad stranger was, but one thing was for sure: they needed to find out.
And then, twenty-four hours ago, had come the revelations unearthed by a detective—or rather, former detective—in Morioka. One Arakaki Susumu, now enjoying early retirement ostensibly as a reward for years of honorable service. That, and his suddenly hefty pension, provided ample incentive to keep quiet about what he had discovered. It was a waste, Miyake knew; Arakaki would have kept his mouth shut simply because he had been ordered to do so. She had worked with him several times while he had been with Tokyo homicide, and found him to be an honorable individual. Still, she could not help but feel happy for him, even though it was now she who would be cleaning up the mess.
And what a mess it is, Miyake thought, grinning wider. So twisted, so downright unbelievable, it was possibly her chance for a last big hurrah before her own retirement. And perhaps, if Seeing Red was a success, it would provide enough support from the top brass to win her just about the only promotion she had not yet achieved… But that was a concern for another day. Right now, she needed to gather her first subordinate; they were going on a little trip.
She found him in his office, reading the top secret official briefing to Seeing Red, containing all the relevant information the agency had. Ito Hachirou’s official title was “Assistant Deputy Chief,” but he was no administrative aide. A humorous demeanor masked a keen analytical mind and an exceptionally strong drive to succeed. It was the latter two which had catapulted him up the Naicho ranks even at his relatively young age of thirty-seven. But his general goofiness endeared him to subordinates and colleagues alike, and made him stand out in a field of candidates. It was what had set him apart from others when Miyake was choosing her assistant five years ago, and she had never regretted her decision. Ito was loyal, trustworthy, and a perfect counterpart to her manner, which could admittedly be cold at times.
“What’s up, Captain?” he asked, casually tossing the paperwork on the desk as if it was a comic book. He remained leaning back in his chair, one foot propped up on the desk, as if he had been reading a comic book as well. The only way you could tell that he was really concentrating on something was his eyes.
Miyake sighed. She had accepted the nickname; the analogy that she was captain and he was her first mate was fairly accurate, after all. It was also one of several that they used on each other. When she was getting a little too conceited for his tastes, he referred to her as ‘Admiral,’ which always reminded her to rein it in and perhaps rethink things. And when they were alone she sometimes called him ‘Hachi-mari,’ meaning eight-ball, since she never knew what he was going to say. So the nickname was fine. But did he have to toss classified documents around like that? She had already broken protocol by letting him read them; they were cleared for the Chief and Deputy Chief’s eyes only. But protocol could suck a nut; she needed her best man up to speed on this case. If they succeeded, no one would care. And if they failed, her career was probably over anyway.
“Oh, relax,” he said, reading her expression. “You know they print this stuff on freaking indestructible paper.”
It was true; the paper top secret documents were printed on was designed to be tough and durable, while also taking to flame extremely easily in case a quick purge was necessary. But it was the principle of the matter… With a shake of her head, Miyake gave up. Ito had never been one for respecting principles he didn’t take stock in.
“I’m surprised you’re not done reading that,” she declared instead.
“Read it twice already. Just starting on number three,” he answered smugly.
“Good. Get your coat; we’re leaving.”
“Ah, let me guess,” he said, pretending to contemplate. “We’re going to a shrine?”
“Bingo, Speed Reader.”
“Hehe. You know, I’ve been wanting to go to a shrine. Maybe we’ll finally get in touch with our spiritual selves.”
“Ha! The day you find religion is the day I go yachting around the world.”
“Oh, yes, the captain who gets seasick,” Ito pondered with mock sympathy. “So sad.”
Miyake rolled her eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that one a hundred times before.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes the older ones are the best,” he replied with a wink.
Miyake spun on her heal and stormed out of Ito’s office, listening to his familiar chortle in the background. “Such a baka,” she muttered to herself. But he was her baka, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. When the time came to be serious, amazing, or seriously amazing, he would rise to the occasion. That was one thing she knew for sure.
“They left,” Miyake observed, allowing herself a moment of quiet disbelief before switching to detective mode.
“Call the little brother’s school,” she told Ito. “See if they know where the family went.”
Ito did so, then hung up after a brief conversation, shaking his head. “No luck. The kid was suddenly transferred, but the mother wouldn’t tell them where.”
“Let’s head back to HQ. Send a team over to search the house and keep an eye on the place. I’ll get Watanabe on finding our missing Higurashis.”
“If our people are going to be staying here,” Ito said seriously, “we should tell them what’s coming, and about the well.”
Miyake shook her head. “I can’t give anyone else details until we’re sure this is real.” Seeing that Ito was starting to protest, she cut him off. “This could all still be an elaborately constructed hoax. And if it is, it needs to stay restricted to as few people as possible. I need to sit down with the Higurashis; I need to look that mother in the eye as I ask about her daughter. Then maybe I’ll know for sure.”
Ito frowned, but made no further comment. He didn’t like it, but he was smart enough to know when he was wrong. Or at least when she was more right that he was. He was worrying about the safety of their colleagues, but it was her job to see the big picture as well. And right now, secrecy was more important.
“You coming?” Miyake called over her shoulder as she walked toward the shrine steps. “Or are you just going to stand there pouting all day?”
Ito sighed. “Yes, Captain.”
He hurried to catch up, knowing she would leave him behind if he dallied.
It had been a stressful week for everyone since their move to Hamura, a small city about twenty-five miles west of downtown Tokyo. But they were adjusting; Souta was getting along fine at his new school, and the neighbors were kind. Their apartment was also nice, though it couldn’t compare to the pure grandeur of the shrine or the coziness of their home. But they would just have to make do. She was still fairly certain she had made the right decision that night, after staying up until dawn pondering and nearly drinking her body weight in tea. They would be able to offer Kagome and Inuyasha very little assistance from Hamura, but they also would not get in the way. And that seemed to be what Kagome wanted.
The knocking sounded again, more insistently this time.
“Coming!” she called, drying her hands on her apron as she hurried to the door. Not knowing who to expect, she was not surprised to find two strangers at the door. What did surprise her was their general demeanor; both individuals, the short, older woman and the tall, middle-aged man, exuded a stern aura. She sensed no animosity from them, but neither did she feel they regarded her benevolently. These were not a couple of well-intentioned neighbors out to welcome the newcomer to the community.
“Um, hello,” Mrs. Higurashi greeted nervously. “Can I help you?”
“Good afternoon, Higurashi-san,” the short woman stated firmly with a smile that did not reach her eyes. “I am Detective Miyake, and this is Detective Ito, both of the Hamura Police Department. May we come in?”
Mrs. Higurashi’s eyes widened, and she hesitated for a moment before replying in the affirmative and holding the door for them.
“Would you like some tea, detectives?” she asked as she led them into the kitchen, a slight quaver in her voice.
“Please,” Miyake answered, while Ito grumbled that he would just have water. Miyake grinned; the man was a coffee nut, and hated tea. She knew he would be begging her to make a coffee stop on the way back to HQ.
Miyake seated herself at the table, observing Mrs. Higurashi as she prepared the tea. Her movements were stiff, her eyes glancing furtively between the task and her guests. This was more than the mere nervousness one would expect from having two detectives suddenly show up at the door. Mrs. Higurashi was hiding something. The look she shared with Ito told her that he was seeing the same thing. Miyake was glad she had identified them as detectives rather than Naicho agents. It was something she had learned early on: when questioning possibly complicit third parties, it is better to identify oneself as a lower, more local authority figure, and only reveal one’s true affiliation if necessary. She was sure that it would be necessary in this case, given the relation of the subject matter to national security concerns, but it was still beneficial to avoid completely spooking the subject at the front door. If they could get Mrs. Higurashi to start talking, it would be more difficult for her to clam up later.
Finally, the beverages were ready and their host sat down at the table.
“Now, what can I do for you, detectives?”
“We just have a few questions for you,” Ito said in a friendly tone. Miyake was content to let him take the lead for now; he had always been better at playing ‘good cop’ than she was.
Mrs. Higurashi furrowed her brow slightly at the vague response, but nodded. “I will do my best.”
“Great! So, we were told you moved into this apartment recently. About how long have you been here?”
“We moved in about a week ago.”
“And where were you living before that?”
“Tokyo.”
“Oh? I imagine that’s quite an adjustment, going from the most heavily populated city in the world to little Hamura. Our city must look tiny by comparison.”
Mrs. Higurashi forced a laugh, clearly wondering where the detectives were going with this. So Ito decided to get right to the point.
“So why the sudden move?” he asked seriously, shedding some of his easy charm.
“Personal reasons,” Mrs. Higurashi replied just as sternly.
“Ah, Higurashi-san, that type of stonewalling isn’t going to work here. We need straight answers from you. Now, why did you move to Hamura?”
Mrs. Higurashi frowned. “We wanted a change of scenery,” she snapped, eyeing her guests suspiciously.
“A change of scenery?” Ito repeated incredulously. “From a beautiful shrine—yes, we know where you live—to a city apartment? This place is nice, certainly, but that seems like a downgrade to me.”
“To each his own.”
“Perhaps. Maybe you left Tokyo for a ‘change of scenery,’ or maybe there was another reason. Were the bad memories too much to bear?”
She glared at him, but in her gaze blazed not just the anger one would feel toward someone obviously bringing up a painful memory on purpose. There was fear in her expression, trepidation she could not completely hide. This woman was definitely privy to information that she did not want to reveal, and she feared its extraction.
“If you must know,” she answered, trying to seem heartbroken now, “my daughter was killed in a traffic accident a few weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ito said kindly.
“I’m sure,” Mrs. Higurashi remarked dryly, pushing away from the table and rising to her feet. “Now if that’s all, detectives, I think you should go. I don’t see how this has anything to do with—”
“Sit down,” Miyake ordered, her voice carrying such authority that the frightened woman obeyed almost instantly. “Higurashi-san,” she said, staring her subject straight in the eyes, “what would you say if I told you we have reason to believe Kagome is still alive.” She paused for a moment, then added, “and Inuyasha too.”
Mrs. Higurashi’s face reflected shock, as one would expect. But it was delayed, a theatrical ploy by the conscious mind instead of an instinctive reaction. There was no flare of repressed hope, nor a frantic effort to stifle it so as not to rise high enough to create another massive emotional pitfall when reality crashed down again. In short, the grieving mother was faking it, and Miyake didn’t even need to look at her partner to confirm it this time.
“Y-you think they’re alive?” Mrs. Higurashi stuttered, doing a bad job of feigning disbelief.
Miyake smiled darkly behind her folded hands. A person trained in the art of intelligence gathering would definitely have picked up on her trap, but probably not a civilian whose typical daily challenges consisted of sorting the laundry and deciding what to make her kid for lunch. Mrs. Higurashi had just unwittingly admitted that she knew Inuyasha, and what’s more, she liked him. That was a big endorsement for the new evidence out of Morioka. Now, if they could just confirm the more outlandish aspects of the story.
“Yes, I do,” Miyake declared. “You just confirmed it.”
Mrs. Higurashi’s eyes widened, and she seemed to realize her mistake. She opened her mouth to protest, then thought better of it and clamped it shut. She couldn’t undo the damage, but she seemed intent on staying silent from now on and not making it any worse. Miyake wasn’t having any of that, but she recognized that it was time to change tack. They had pushed the subject into a corner, getting significant admissions in the process, but now they needed to gently coax her out again.
“Look, Higurashi-san, I’m afraid we haven’t been entirely truthful. We are not detectives from the Hamura Police Department. I am Deputy Chief Miyake, and this is Agent Ito, both of the Naikaku Jôhô Chôsashitsu. We’re here to help you.”
“You’re from Naicho?!” Mrs. Higurashi exclaimed. But she was dumbfounded only for a moment, as her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. How do I know you’re who you say you are?”
“A valid question,” Miyake replied patiently, pulling her ID from her pocket and proffering it for inspection as Ito followed suit. Mrs. Higurashi didn’t even blink.
“IDs can be faked.”
Miyake smiled, holding up a hand to stifle her subordinate’s indignant response. “They certainly can,” she replied, taking a small notepad from her other pocket and pushing it across the table. “Write down a number, any length.”
Mrs. Higurashi shot her a funny look, but nonetheless complied.
“Not this again,” Ito muttered.
Miyake smirked. “Excellent,” she declared as she took the pad back, glancing at the twelve digit number written there. “Would you please go into the living room and put the TV on, Higurashi-san?”
The woman glanced confusedly at her again, but got up from the table and walked into the other room. “Which channel?” she called.
“Any channel,” Miyake answered, dialing her phone. She continued to smirk at Ito, who was still shaking his head and grumbling under his breath. “Make yourself useful and go bring this to Higurashi-san,” she told him, handing him the notepad. At this, he rolled his eyes, taking the paper as a disgusted teenager might snatch a garbage bag from his parent’s hand on trash night. Miyake suppressed a chuckle; his mild disapproval didn’t bother her. So she liked to show off her influence once in awhile? She had found the ‘wow’ factor associated with this tactic to be very effective in the past.
Ito returned and flopped back in the chair, and together they listened for the blow to fall. Sure enough, a few minutes later the regular TV programming cut out, ostensibly to broadcast a nationwide test of the emergency alert system. They heard a shocked gasp from the other room, signaling that Mrs. Higurashi had seen her twelve digit number flashing innocently in the bottom right hand corner. Ah, the wonders of knowing people in high places.
Their stupefied subject came back into the kitchen noticeably paler than she had been when she left. Miyake waited for her to break the silence, giving her time to consider what she had just witnessed. She was not surprised when the first words took the form of a desperate denial.
“Y-y-you could have b-bribed someone, or hacked in, or—”
“Or far more likely, I’m exactly who I say I am,” Miyake interrupted sternly. She let her statement hang in the air for a moment, allowing it to sink into this woman’s stubborn head. “Higurashi-san, we mean you no harm,” she promised gently. “We want to help Kagome and Inuyasha.”
“How do I know?” Mrs. Higurashi demanded, marshalling her nerves. “How do I know what you’ll do to Inuyasha if you get a hold of him? Why do you think we tried so hard to keep him a secret in the first place?!”
She had a point, but Miyake did not acknowledge it in any way. Even she could not predict with any degree of certainty what would happen to Inuyasha if he was taken into government custody. In an ideal world, he would be released once it was determined that he was no threat to national security. But this was not a utopia, and there would be those who, driven by their fear and prejudice of the unknown, would demand he be incarcerated for life, or even killed. They would deem him too dangerous to release even if his intentions were entirely benevolent. But as uncertain as that conclusion was, the alternative was far worse.
“Would you rather let them take their chances against the people who already captured Inuyasha once? The bastards who thought nothing of mind-raping your daughter?!”
Mrs. Higurashi cringed at the reminder, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. But she still had some fight left in her, and a point to make.
“I would rather they make it safely back to Inuyasha’s homeland and stay there.”
Miyake’s eyes widened slightly, and Ito was impressed; it took a lot to get even that reaction out of his captain while she was working.
“You would rather know they are safe in the past than facing danger here in the present. You do realize you might never see them again if that happened?”
“Of course. I have always been prepared for the day when Kagome would tell me she has chosen to follow her heart.”
“Follow her…so Sasaki’s instincts were correct,” Miyake mumbled to herself. Kagome has truly fallen in love with that hanyou. She filed that information away, knowing it could become important later. As for the here and now, she could easily see that Mrs. Higurashi was sincere; she really would willingly sacrifice any chance of seeing her daughter again to ensure her safety. And she trusted Inuyasha to provide that security in a dangerous world she had never known. It showed the kind of mother she was, as well as the strength of her faith in her daughter and the hanyou she had fallen in love with. Miyake filed those observations away as well. And more importantly, she knew what she needed to say now to gain Mrs. Higurashi’s cooperation.
“Higurashi-san, I cannot make any guarantees as to what will happen to Inuyasha if our efforts are successful. But I can promise you that if you help us, I will do everything in my power to bring Kagome back to you, and ensure that Inuyasha is treated fairly. The one thing I can guarantee is that if they fall into the hands of the evil men who are hunting them at this very moment, your daughter will be killed, and Inuyasha will never see freedom again. He will know only pain and misery until the day he dies, cold and alone.” She let ominous silence reign for a few long moments before continuing. “So I suppose you could think of us as the lesser of two evils. Help us. Save your daughter and at least give Inuyasha a fighting chance.”
Mrs. Higurashi studied her with a piercing gaze, gauging her sincerity, and she stared right back. She had nothing to hide; her promises were genuine, and her ability to make good on them strong. Eventually, the wary mother across the table seemed to realize this, for she lowered her eyes and nodded.
“Good,” Miyake declared sharply, all business once again. “Now, since you knew that Kagome was still alive, I assume she contacted you after her escape. What exactly did she tell you, Higurashi-san?”
And perhaps most importantly, the Naikaku Jôhô Chôsashitsu would make absolutely certain that no one affiliated with Yoshida Saburou got anywhere near Higurashi shrine. The entrance was now closed off, and shoot on sight orders had been given for any strangers on the premises, except of course a very particular schoolgirl and her unusual companion. When their quarry did finally show up, they would be ready.
So perhaps the meeting with Mrs. Higurashi had not been so fruitless after all. They had confirmed much of the backbone story of Seeing Red, and gained a potentially valuable, if hesitant, ally.
“Hey, Captain,” Ito said, sensing that her mood was changing for the better. “You know what I feel like?”
Miyake sighed. “I can only guess,” she muttered sarcastically, merging into the right lane. If she remembered correctly, they had passed a coffee shop just up ahead on the way in.
(1) The Naikaku Jôhô Chôsashitsu (Naicho) is the Japanese equivalent of the CIA, though it’s a scaled-down version.
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Naicho
Miyake Izumi strode purposefully down the long hallway, a victorious smirk pulling up one corner of her mouth. Clutched tightly in her hand was a briefcase, containing a treasured document, written authorization to initiate and conduct a highly classified operation know by the codename Seeing Red. Her boss had signed the paperwork a few minutes ago, expressing full confidence that she would get the job done and do the agency proud.
He had good reason for his faith. In her thirty-five years at the Naikaku Jôhô Chôsashitsu, or Naicho for short, Miyake had risen from a lowly intern to the position of Deputy Chief, reporting only to the man who had been her senior for the past five years. (1) If such advancement was impressive for a man, it was simply incredible for a woman to reach such heights in what was still a male-dominated field. Her career had been extremely difficult back when she’d first started; she had nearly quit several times. She had been relegated to performing menial tasks, held back by male superiors who saw her as a beautiful woman—and more often than not, a possible love interest—rather than a competent colleague. It had gotten so bad that she used to curse her good looks, and go to work without makeup just to seem less feminine.
But all that changed when she was given her first real opportunity to prove herself, thanks to a fateful car accident which put her boss’s first choice on crutches. The execution of that operation had been so clean, so perfect, that it had earned her an immediate promotion so her former boss was suddenly her subordinate. And she had never looked back.
Now in her late fifties, Miyake Izumi was a powerful presence within the agency, a force all her own. Her reputation generated near universal respect, and she demanded the same. For she had never taken the easy way out; she had never played the sympathy card or accepted the advances or favors of an amorous superior. Maintaining her integrity had held her back in the past, but now she was admired for it. The men and women serving under her, the latter group employed in large part thanks to her trailblazing, affectionately called her the “tiny giant,” a reference to her small physical stature and massive aura. It was true that she was short, and no longer blessed with youthful beauty. Years of stress had left their mark on her face, which made her appear older than she actually was. It was no matter; she almost preferred her body this way. Short and slightly plump, she dressed and carried herself with constant professionalism, and just enough femininity to remind people that she was in fact a woman. That was one thing she would never allow them to forget. Things would never go back to the way they used to be.
So Deputy Chief Miyake no longer had to prove herself, but she took her job no less seriously than she had as a raw, fresh-faced intern. No matter how it turned out, Seeing Red promised to be a special case. Naicho normally stuck to the intelligence-gathering sector, occasionally engaging in small-scale operations, mostly against organized crime syndicates. But the Prime Minister had taken a special interest in this case, and put his best people on it. At his insistence, Miyake’s boss had granted her a virtually unrestricted right to requisition whatever personnel and material she required. It was the grandest mandate she had ever been given, and it signified the importance of this mission.
It was also no surprise. The Japanese government had an Unidentified Leaping Object on its hands, one hundreds of witnesses swore to. And the video evidence, examined by dozens of experts at several agencies, including Naicho, was unquestioningly genuine. Debate still raged at every level as to who or what the red-clad stranger was, but one thing was for sure: they needed to find out.
And then, twenty-four hours ago, had come the revelations unearthed by a detective—or rather, former detective—in Morioka. One Arakaki Susumu, now enjoying early retirement ostensibly as a reward for years of honorable service. That, and his suddenly hefty pension, provided ample incentive to keep quiet about what he had discovered. It was a waste, Miyake knew; Arakaki would have kept his mouth shut simply because he had been ordered to do so. She had worked with him several times while he had been with Tokyo homicide, and found him to be an honorable individual. Still, she could not help but feel happy for him, even though it was now she who would be cleaning up the mess.
And what a mess it is, Miyake thought, grinning wider. So twisted, so downright unbelievable, it was possibly her chance for a last big hurrah before her own retirement. And perhaps, if Seeing Red was a success, it would provide enough support from the top brass to win her just about the only promotion she had not yet achieved… But that was a concern for another day. Right now, she needed to gather her first subordinate; they were going on a little trip.
She found him in his office, reading the top secret official briefing to Seeing Red, containing all the relevant information the agency had. Ito Hachirou’s official title was “Assistant Deputy Chief,” but he was no administrative aide. A humorous demeanor masked a keen analytical mind and an exceptionally strong drive to succeed. It was the latter two which had catapulted him up the Naicho ranks even at his relatively young age of thirty-seven. But his general goofiness endeared him to subordinates and colleagues alike, and made him stand out in a field of candidates. It was what had set him apart from others when Miyake was choosing her assistant five years ago, and she had never regretted her decision. Ito was loyal, trustworthy, and a perfect counterpart to her manner, which could admittedly be cold at times.
“What’s up, Captain?” he asked, casually tossing the paperwork on the desk as if it was a comic book. He remained leaning back in his chair, one foot propped up on the desk, as if he had been reading a comic book as well. The only way you could tell that he was really concentrating on something was his eyes.
Miyake sighed. She had accepted the nickname; the analogy that she was captain and he was her first mate was fairly accurate, after all. It was also one of several that they used on each other. When she was getting a little too conceited for his tastes, he referred to her as ‘Admiral,’ which always reminded her to rein it in and perhaps rethink things. And when they were alone she sometimes called him ‘Hachi-mari,’ meaning eight-ball, since she never knew what he was going to say. So the nickname was fine. But did he have to toss classified documents around like that? She had already broken protocol by letting him read them; they were cleared for the Chief and Deputy Chief’s eyes only. But protocol could suck a nut; she needed her best man up to speed on this case. If they succeeded, no one would care. And if they failed, her career was probably over anyway.
“Oh, relax,” he said, reading her expression. “You know they print this stuff on freaking indestructible paper.”
It was true; the paper top secret documents were printed on was designed to be tough and durable, while also taking to flame extremely easily in case a quick purge was necessary. But it was the principle of the matter… With a shake of her head, Miyake gave up. Ito had never been one for respecting principles he didn’t take stock in.
“I’m surprised you’re not done reading that,” she declared instead.
“Read it twice already. Just starting on number three,” he answered smugly.
“Good. Get your coat; we’re leaving.”
“Ah, let me guess,” he said, pretending to contemplate. “We’re going to a shrine?”
“Bingo, Speed Reader.”
“Hehe. You know, I’ve been wanting to go to a shrine. Maybe we’ll finally get in touch with our spiritual selves.”
“Ha! The day you find religion is the day I go yachting around the world.”
“Oh, yes, the captain who gets seasick,” Ito pondered with mock sympathy. “So sad.”
Miyake rolled her eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that one a hundred times before.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes the older ones are the best,” he replied with a wink.
Miyake spun on her heal and stormed out of Ito’s office, listening to his familiar chortle in the background. “Such a baka,” she muttered to herself. But he was her baka, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. When the time came to be serious, amazing, or seriously amazing, he would rise to the occasion. That was one thing she knew for sure.
* * *
“Well, this is unexpected,” Ito declared, gazing passively over the deserted area. The Higurashi shrine was not how he had imagined it would be. A fresh layer of dirt covered the ground, littered with random bits and pieces of flora and the occasional large pebble. It was clear someone had not swept in at least a week, and some of the paper sutras and decorations which adorned the sacred tree and other areas of the shrine also showed lack of care. It was no surprise that the doors and windows of the house were locked shut, or that there was no answer to the doorbell. “They left,” Miyake observed, allowing herself a moment of quiet disbelief before switching to detective mode.
“Call the little brother’s school,” she told Ito. “See if they know where the family went.”
Ito did so, then hung up after a brief conversation, shaking his head. “No luck. The kid was suddenly transferred, but the mother wouldn’t tell them where.”
“Let’s head back to HQ. Send a team over to search the house and keep an eye on the place. I’ll get Watanabe on finding our missing Higurashis.”
“If our people are going to be staying here,” Ito said seriously, “we should tell them what’s coming, and about the well.”
Miyake shook her head. “I can’t give anyone else details until we’re sure this is real.” Seeing that Ito was starting to protest, she cut him off. “This could all still be an elaborately constructed hoax. And if it is, it needs to stay restricted to as few people as possible. I need to sit down with the Higurashis; I need to look that mother in the eye as I ask about her daughter. Then maybe I’ll know for sure.”
Ito frowned, but made no further comment. He didn’t like it, but he was smart enough to know when he was wrong. Or at least when she was more right that he was. He was worrying about the safety of their colleagues, but it was her job to see the big picture as well. And right now, secrecy was more important.
“You coming?” Miyake called over her shoulder as she walked toward the shrine steps. “Or are you just going to stand there pouting all day?”
Ito sighed. “Yes, Captain.”
He hurried to catch up, knowing she would leave him behind if he dallied.
* * *
“Oh, who could that be?” Mrs. Higurashi muttered to herself in response to the loud knocking on the door. She hastily washed her hands in the sink. Jii-chan was taking a nap, still depressed about having to leave his precious ‘artifacts’ back at the shrine, and she had been making his favorite desert to cheer him up. It had been a stressful week for everyone since their move to Hamura, a small city about twenty-five miles west of downtown Tokyo. But they were adjusting; Souta was getting along fine at his new school, and the neighbors were kind. Their apartment was also nice, though it couldn’t compare to the pure grandeur of the shrine or the coziness of their home. But they would just have to make do. She was still fairly certain she had made the right decision that night, after staying up until dawn pondering and nearly drinking her body weight in tea. They would be able to offer Kagome and Inuyasha very little assistance from Hamura, but they also would not get in the way. And that seemed to be what Kagome wanted.
The knocking sounded again, more insistently this time.
“Coming!” she called, drying her hands on her apron as she hurried to the door. Not knowing who to expect, she was not surprised to find two strangers at the door. What did surprise her was their general demeanor; both individuals, the short, older woman and the tall, middle-aged man, exuded a stern aura. She sensed no animosity from them, but neither did she feel they regarded her benevolently. These were not a couple of well-intentioned neighbors out to welcome the newcomer to the community.
“Um, hello,” Mrs. Higurashi greeted nervously. “Can I help you?”
“Good afternoon, Higurashi-san,” the short woman stated firmly with a smile that did not reach her eyes. “I am Detective Miyake, and this is Detective Ito, both of the Hamura Police Department. May we come in?”
Mrs. Higurashi’s eyes widened, and she hesitated for a moment before replying in the affirmative and holding the door for them.
“Would you like some tea, detectives?” she asked as she led them into the kitchen, a slight quaver in her voice.
“Please,” Miyake answered, while Ito grumbled that he would just have water. Miyake grinned; the man was a coffee nut, and hated tea. She knew he would be begging her to make a coffee stop on the way back to HQ.
Miyake seated herself at the table, observing Mrs. Higurashi as she prepared the tea. Her movements were stiff, her eyes glancing furtively between the task and her guests. This was more than the mere nervousness one would expect from having two detectives suddenly show up at the door. Mrs. Higurashi was hiding something. The look she shared with Ito told her that he was seeing the same thing. Miyake was glad she had identified them as detectives rather than Naicho agents. It was something she had learned early on: when questioning possibly complicit third parties, it is better to identify oneself as a lower, more local authority figure, and only reveal one’s true affiliation if necessary. She was sure that it would be necessary in this case, given the relation of the subject matter to national security concerns, but it was still beneficial to avoid completely spooking the subject at the front door. If they could get Mrs. Higurashi to start talking, it would be more difficult for her to clam up later.
Finally, the beverages were ready and their host sat down at the table.
“Now, what can I do for you, detectives?”
“We just have a few questions for you,” Ito said in a friendly tone. Miyake was content to let him take the lead for now; he had always been better at playing ‘good cop’ than she was.
Mrs. Higurashi furrowed her brow slightly at the vague response, but nodded. “I will do my best.”
“Great! So, we were told you moved into this apartment recently. About how long have you been here?”
“We moved in about a week ago.”
“And where were you living before that?”
“Tokyo.”
“Oh? I imagine that’s quite an adjustment, going from the most heavily populated city in the world to little Hamura. Our city must look tiny by comparison.”
Mrs. Higurashi forced a laugh, clearly wondering where the detectives were going with this. So Ito decided to get right to the point.
“So why the sudden move?” he asked seriously, shedding some of his easy charm.
“Personal reasons,” Mrs. Higurashi replied just as sternly.
“Ah, Higurashi-san, that type of stonewalling isn’t going to work here. We need straight answers from you. Now, why did you move to Hamura?”
Mrs. Higurashi frowned. “We wanted a change of scenery,” she snapped, eyeing her guests suspiciously.
“A change of scenery?” Ito repeated incredulously. “From a beautiful shrine—yes, we know where you live—to a city apartment? This place is nice, certainly, but that seems like a downgrade to me.”
“To each his own.”
“Perhaps. Maybe you left Tokyo for a ‘change of scenery,’ or maybe there was another reason. Were the bad memories too much to bear?”
She glared at him, but in her gaze blazed not just the anger one would feel toward someone obviously bringing up a painful memory on purpose. There was fear in her expression, trepidation she could not completely hide. This woman was definitely privy to information that she did not want to reveal, and she feared its extraction.
“If you must know,” she answered, trying to seem heartbroken now, “my daughter was killed in a traffic accident a few weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ito said kindly.
“I’m sure,” Mrs. Higurashi remarked dryly, pushing away from the table and rising to her feet. “Now if that’s all, detectives, I think you should go. I don’t see how this has anything to do with—”
“Sit down,” Miyake ordered, her voice carrying such authority that the frightened woman obeyed almost instantly. “Higurashi-san,” she said, staring her subject straight in the eyes, “what would you say if I told you we have reason to believe Kagome is still alive.” She paused for a moment, then added, “and Inuyasha too.”
Mrs. Higurashi’s face reflected shock, as one would expect. But it was delayed, a theatrical ploy by the conscious mind instead of an instinctive reaction. There was no flare of repressed hope, nor a frantic effort to stifle it so as not to rise high enough to create another massive emotional pitfall when reality crashed down again. In short, the grieving mother was faking it, and Miyake didn’t even need to look at her partner to confirm it this time.
“Y-you think they’re alive?” Mrs. Higurashi stuttered, doing a bad job of feigning disbelief.
Miyake smiled darkly behind her folded hands. A person trained in the art of intelligence gathering would definitely have picked up on her trap, but probably not a civilian whose typical daily challenges consisted of sorting the laundry and deciding what to make her kid for lunch. Mrs. Higurashi had just unwittingly admitted that she knew Inuyasha, and what’s more, she liked him. That was a big endorsement for the new evidence out of Morioka. Now, if they could just confirm the more outlandish aspects of the story.
“Yes, I do,” Miyake declared. “You just confirmed it.”
Mrs. Higurashi’s eyes widened, and she seemed to realize her mistake. She opened her mouth to protest, then thought better of it and clamped it shut. She couldn’t undo the damage, but she seemed intent on staying silent from now on and not making it any worse. Miyake wasn’t having any of that, but she recognized that it was time to change tack. They had pushed the subject into a corner, getting significant admissions in the process, but now they needed to gently coax her out again.
“Look, Higurashi-san, I’m afraid we haven’t been entirely truthful. We are not detectives from the Hamura Police Department. I am Deputy Chief Miyake, and this is Agent Ito, both of the Naikaku Jôhô Chôsashitsu. We’re here to help you.”
“You’re from Naicho?!” Mrs. Higurashi exclaimed. But she was dumbfounded only for a moment, as her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. How do I know you’re who you say you are?”
“A valid question,” Miyake replied patiently, pulling her ID from her pocket and proffering it for inspection as Ito followed suit. Mrs. Higurashi didn’t even blink.
“IDs can be faked.”
Miyake smiled, holding up a hand to stifle her subordinate’s indignant response. “They certainly can,” she replied, taking a small notepad from her other pocket and pushing it across the table. “Write down a number, any length.”
Mrs. Higurashi shot her a funny look, but nonetheless complied.
“Not this again,” Ito muttered.
Miyake smirked. “Excellent,” she declared as she took the pad back, glancing at the twelve digit number written there. “Would you please go into the living room and put the TV on, Higurashi-san?”
The woman glanced confusedly at her again, but got up from the table and walked into the other room. “Which channel?” she called.
“Any channel,” Miyake answered, dialing her phone. She continued to smirk at Ito, who was still shaking his head and grumbling under his breath. “Make yourself useful and go bring this to Higurashi-san,” she told him, handing him the notepad. At this, he rolled his eyes, taking the paper as a disgusted teenager might snatch a garbage bag from his parent’s hand on trash night. Miyake suppressed a chuckle; his mild disapproval didn’t bother her. So she liked to show off her influence once in awhile? She had found the ‘wow’ factor associated with this tactic to be very effective in the past.
Ito returned and flopped back in the chair, and together they listened for the blow to fall. Sure enough, a few minutes later the regular TV programming cut out, ostensibly to broadcast a nationwide test of the emergency alert system. They heard a shocked gasp from the other room, signaling that Mrs. Higurashi had seen her twelve digit number flashing innocently in the bottom right hand corner. Ah, the wonders of knowing people in high places.
Their stupefied subject came back into the kitchen noticeably paler than she had been when she left. Miyake waited for her to break the silence, giving her time to consider what she had just witnessed. She was not surprised when the first words took the form of a desperate denial.
“Y-y-you could have b-bribed someone, or hacked in, or—”
“Or far more likely, I’m exactly who I say I am,” Miyake interrupted sternly. She let her statement hang in the air for a moment, allowing it to sink into this woman’s stubborn head. “Higurashi-san, we mean you no harm,” she promised gently. “We want to help Kagome and Inuyasha.”
“How do I know?” Mrs. Higurashi demanded, marshalling her nerves. “How do I know what you’ll do to Inuyasha if you get a hold of him? Why do you think we tried so hard to keep him a secret in the first place?!”
She had a point, but Miyake did not acknowledge it in any way. Even she could not predict with any degree of certainty what would happen to Inuyasha if he was taken into government custody. In an ideal world, he would be released once it was determined that he was no threat to national security. But this was not a utopia, and there would be those who, driven by their fear and prejudice of the unknown, would demand he be incarcerated for life, or even killed. They would deem him too dangerous to release even if his intentions were entirely benevolent. But as uncertain as that conclusion was, the alternative was far worse.
“Would you rather let them take their chances against the people who already captured Inuyasha once? The bastards who thought nothing of mind-raping your daughter?!”
Mrs. Higurashi cringed at the reminder, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. But she still had some fight left in her, and a point to make.
“I would rather they make it safely back to Inuyasha’s homeland and stay there.”
Miyake’s eyes widened slightly, and Ito was impressed; it took a lot to get even that reaction out of his captain while she was working.
“You would rather know they are safe in the past than facing danger here in the present. You do realize you might never see them again if that happened?”
“Of course. I have always been prepared for the day when Kagome would tell me she has chosen to follow her heart.”
“Follow her…so Sasaki’s instincts were correct,” Miyake mumbled to herself. Kagome has truly fallen in love with that hanyou. She filed that information away, knowing it could become important later. As for the here and now, she could easily see that Mrs. Higurashi was sincere; she really would willingly sacrifice any chance of seeing her daughter again to ensure her safety. And she trusted Inuyasha to provide that security in a dangerous world she had never known. It showed the kind of mother she was, as well as the strength of her faith in her daughter and the hanyou she had fallen in love with. Miyake filed those observations away as well. And more importantly, she knew what she needed to say now to gain Mrs. Higurashi’s cooperation.
“Higurashi-san, I cannot make any guarantees as to what will happen to Inuyasha if our efforts are successful. But I can promise you that if you help us, I will do everything in my power to bring Kagome back to you, and ensure that Inuyasha is treated fairly. The one thing I can guarantee is that if they fall into the hands of the evil men who are hunting them at this very moment, your daughter will be killed, and Inuyasha will never see freedom again. He will know only pain and misery until the day he dies, cold and alone.” She let ominous silence reign for a few long moments before continuing. “So I suppose you could think of us as the lesser of two evils. Help us. Save your daughter and at least give Inuyasha a fighting chance.”
Mrs. Higurashi studied her with a piercing gaze, gauging her sincerity, and she stared right back. She had nothing to hide; her promises were genuine, and her ability to make good on them strong. Eventually, the wary mother across the table seemed to realize this, for she lowered her eyes and nodded.
“Good,” Miyake declared sharply, all business once again. “Now, since you knew that Kagome was still alive, I assume she contacted you after her escape. What exactly did she tell you, Higurashi-san?”
* * *
Miyake cruised through the city streets, a frown marring her already severe features. Their conversation with Mrs. Higurashi had not been nearly as productive as she’d hoped. The woman had not been able to tell them anything they didn’t already know, only to confirm that Kagome and Inuyasha were heading for the old well at the Higurashi shrine. Speaking of the shrine, the Higurashi family was relocating back to their home, where they would be easier to watch. Family members would be under surveillance whenever they left the house to ensure that they did not become hostages. Perhaps a plea from one of them would be enough to give their quarry pause when they tried to break through the defenses Naicho personnel were setting up around the well house at this very moment. Nevertheless, agents would be armed with the same type of rifles and tranquilizer that Yoshida had found so effective in stopping a hanyou in his tracks, as described in Sasaki’s notes. She would of course instruct her people to only fire when they were certain they would not hit Kagome by accident; such a strong sedative could easily kill her. And perhaps most importantly, the Naikaku Jôhô Chôsashitsu would make absolutely certain that no one affiliated with Yoshida Saburou got anywhere near Higurashi shrine. The entrance was now closed off, and shoot on sight orders had been given for any strangers on the premises, except of course a very particular schoolgirl and her unusual companion. When their quarry did finally show up, they would be ready.
So perhaps the meeting with Mrs. Higurashi had not been so fruitless after all. They had confirmed much of the backbone story of Seeing Red, and gained a potentially valuable, if hesitant, ally.
“Hey, Captain,” Ito said, sensing that her mood was changing for the better. “You know what I feel like?”
Miyake sighed. “I can only guess,” she muttered sarcastically, merging into the right lane. If she remembered correctly, they had passed a coffee shop just up ahead on the way in.
(1) The Naikaku Jôhô Chôsashitsu (Naicho) is the Japanese equivalent of the CIA, though it’s a scaled-down version.
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