InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Good Twin, Evil Twin ❯ Chapter Eleven ( Chapter 11 )

Chapter Eleven

Stirred, as though from sleep, Kev saw that he was - that he had been - propped against a bench in the middle of a park. He was startled as much by the abrupt change in venue as by the cold, sharp air of the autumn morning. Sitting up and leaning his head into his hand, he thought about it, the whole, damn thing, and wondered if it might not have been a dream. It had the flavor of a dream. The room with that music and that smell. Koga and the wolf demons. Inuyasha and his ears - his dog-ears. And Shippo.

He stood and sighed; lost for a moment of introspection he let the world flyby without a second-look. Without thinking he rubbed the back of his head with his palms - the hairless, naked skin felt rough yet smooth. The rest of his body ached with a terrible, exhausting soreness. And, also without thinking, he brought his fingers to his chin, his lips - he knew, then, it could not have been a dream for the smell of that musk and that incense clung onto his flesh.

“Shippo,” he whispered.

It was real.

Demons.

Myths were grounded by fact; only through the course of time, from one generation to the next, would the stories be transfigured into pseudo-history. If demons were real and were, like Kano theorized them to be, mutated-humans, it would not be an unheard-of possibility. Neanderthals and Modern-Men lived together for thousands of years. Demons, then, would have been just another variety of people. Stronger and longer-lived, they looked different, maybe, they behaved different too and the un-mutated humans feared them. To survive they kept their distance and when that was not enough they infiltrated into the modern-world and created their own, sub-cultures under it.

Little by little, Kev assembled and judged the facts as he walked through the streets of Tokyo. Kano was always different Especially with matters of trust: he let few, if anybody, into his life and that was why it was special between them. Why he knew his friend would not play with his mind like that. Emotionally, he was older and wiser than he looked; he tended to be very shy and calm but every so often here and there he expressed moments of childlike-excitement. Physically, he did not expose any skin below the neck except for hands and arms; he did not like to be touched about his legs, from the knees to the feet. And it made sense, did it not? If there were characteristics about his body that surgery alone could not mask.

He could not have revealed himself without establishing a deep bond of trust -

After the talk ended Inuyasha faded back onto the mat and Koga and his gang excused themselves. He looked at the chair and at the carton of rice that lay atop it - after everything crashed down upon him it seemed to be the last, coherent fragment of normalcy left in the world. No! Wait! There was another -

Kev felt Kano's hand grasp onto his hand.

He looked at the man - who, after all, was a fox-demon - and they squeezed their grips into each other's. That contact was the realest-thing left in the world. That one, simple gesture carried with it the weight of love and intimacy.

Without stopping home he walked from the park to the precinct; maneuvering through the crowds he could not help but wonder:

“Half this world's full of freaks, I guess.”

All the while, as he thought about the pieces of the puzzle, as he trekked through the mob, he examined the people more clearly now than before. Testing as if trying - and failing - to spot those who were and those who were not. Whose ears were a bit off. Whose smiles openly masked filed-down fangs.

How many people were people? How many `people' were `demons'? Physically, they could be altered and mixed perfectly, flawlessly into the world. Biologically, with their extreme strength and lifespan, their true-natures could not be totally hidden forever. Neither Koga nor Inuyasha told him as much but he surmised the possibility himself that, from time to time, demons were forced to retreat. And get away from the world and from those within it who knew them by their human identities and wait. Wait, by the gods, for how long until they would be forgotten?

“Just tell me you don't hate me.”

“I don't hate you, Shippo. I can't hate you.”

He rubbed against Kano's ear - and Kano let him feel the roughness of the scar.

“Whatever you thought I wouldn't accept, I do. Whatever you thought I'd fear, I don't. I love you -”

“How can I hate you, Shippo?” Kevin wanted to say more, much more, then he had Kano's ear now he had the air to speak into. “In what kind of universe can I hate you? I would not want to be in that world.”

“You cut your ears,” he said, softly, looking at his friend.

“Yes,” he confessed. “And my tail, too. I was a fox-demon, with a tail.”

There was shame mixed with the confession; the tone of voice was so soft, so defeated.

“I know Inuyasha doesn't judge but I know demons like Koga do. They look at me like I'm some sort of freak.”

Kev kissed Kano's lips, feeling the stumps that were left of the fangs and knowing, for the first time ever, he was kissing something that was not human - and loving it. Wanting it. The kiss that started with a simple, light peck became more and more passionate and ended when he himself broke the contact to whisper into his friend's ear:

“You did what you did to survive. I don't judge you, Shippo, I don't hate you and I don't judge you. That's just the way it is and you'll have to get used to it.”

He broke the hug and just looked at Kano, just looked and smiled, and Kano smiled, too.

“You make my heart skip a beat.”

How many lives had Kano led? How many loved-ones fled after learning what he was? How many of them remained that he saw their aging - wasting and weltering into death - while he was stayed eternally young?

He loved Kano, truly and deeply. The friendship started because they needed partners to practice their language skills with. Soon they saw each other - informally - while crossing paths as they worked within the precinct and as they trekked about the city. Soon, too, they looked forward to meeting each other that way and it became their routine. Their thing. Walking and talking they got to know each other better and better: Kano loved weird, silly movies and he did, too, he loved exploring Tokyo and Kano did, too.

It did not take long for the scheduled meeting to become scheduled dates - it was a friendship, though, not yet anything -

Kano was always so sweet and so understanding. He never felt judged by Kano. Even his brother judged him every now and then. But Kano did not. And how, then, could he judge his friend?

The more they were together the more Kevin realized just how beautiful Kano was. And how smart and how wise. His temperament was everything he wanted when he thought of a mate - and he knew he was in love

He worshipped Kano and in truth their hidden, secret `trysts' satisfied him more, much more than any physical-relationship could have. Those rare, in-between moments when they found the time and privacy to hold hands and kiss, to hug and lean into each other's shoulders. The idle-banter, the small talk, and those countless other small, little intimacies they shared. They got to know each other so much so that their mutual-attraction deepened

In hindsight the clandestine almost forbidden nature of the relationship was obvious. A true, physical relationship was impossible as long as Kano's secret could not be shared. And it could not be shared with people known only for a short while, people who were, more or less, strangers and foreigners. Trust was paramount - he understood that as a general principle but until what was revealed was revealed he would not have fathomed just how overreaching and overpowering the issue of trust would be for a demon.

“I trust you, Kevin-san, but do you trust me?”

It required so much understanding and so much patience to bridge that fundamental gap between them. But he trusted Kano and there was nothing else to say about that matter.

If Kano said he was a demon then he believed it. If he said there was a Naraku then he believed it too. But he was a cop and if that Naraku creature was a Napoleon of crime, the chief and principle cause of that recent brash of murders, then it was his job to gather the proof and build the evidence. Was that not why Inuyasha contacted a cop - albeit through a very unorthodox method - was that not why they needed his help? To stop the criminal, to save the girl -

“I'll protect you, Shippo, all of you, as much as I can, I promise. But I must do my job. You understand that more than they do. And you know what I mean when I say I need proof. To stop Naraku before the killer reaches the girl you are all friend s with I need more than a history lesson. I need something to point me in the right direction.”

It was neither the fear of the demons nor the fear of the difference between demons and humans - only slight, superficial hints of which had been revealed - it was, instead, the fear of the thought that within the world mankind carved for itself were the workings of another, complete universe. Under the surface of things - countries and businesses, nations and traders, the work that progressed from one day to the next - just millimeters below the façade of what he always knew to be real there was a parallel `existence'. Like another dimension. With its own rules and its own social-orders. Where secrecy ruled.

Naraku, through the years, attained power and influence.

If what Inuyasha said was true and there was such a monster -

For a pure and simple personal reason, a vendetta, that monster was determined to destroy that girl. But with his power and influence, it would be too great a risk to get his hands dirty for what he must have realized was a personal-matter. What if he got a demon to commit the crime? A demon with a propensity for violence maybe a budding, young serial killer? Then there would be no link back to him. It would be as though it was pure-coincidence.

What a sick, perverted plot it was - perfect and flawless.

After all, what would Naraku - Mr. Onigumo - have had to do with a fifteen-year-old girl?

What did not make sense - and what they would not explain - was why a fifteen-year-old girl would be that important to demons five-hundred-years-old. There were whole, other parts of the truth that were being hidden. Whatever it was, it was not Kano's truth to unveil. And he supposed his friend to be honor-bound to keep shut about that matter.

Just how deep would he go into that world? And just how far would it let him go within?

What if it was not humanity itself that drove demons underground - rather - what if it was one of Naraku's plots? Drive fear and hatred between the races and force demons into the shadows. Make them subservient to him with no one outside of that parallel world to seek help and find protection from him.

He reached the front steps of the local precinct and looked up - the building's clean, Spartan façade was a copy of Western design and very modern despite its being one hundred years old.

There would be time for philosophizing later. Now he was troubled by an infinitely more pressing matter - he had to find a way to tell his brother all of what he learned without outing people and without sounding like a madman. He shut his eyes as he stood at the foot of the stairs. As he meditated through calmer, more-relaxed states files of officers and citizens alike walked by him into and out of the field of his senses. He reached into his pockets and felt his gun inside his holder - and there was something -

He examined the contents of his front, left pocket: it was a cell phone. But it was not like the one he carried. And, indeed, he could not remember ever seeing a model like it. It must have been planted there by Inuyasha - his source.

And then a smile came to Detective Kev's face as he realized he knew exactly how to explain it.

At the head quarters of Omega Squad, Detective Kenshin gazed upon a map that had been tacked against a wall. He studied it, combed it, and when it failed to yield its secret he turned his eyes from that grid of lines and dots to those files of reports and photographs. And to the still images of surveillance videos that had been taken by officers of the crime scenes just to see, if for whatever reason, the same person appeared again and again. Serial killers were known to frequent their crimes scenes and he agreed with his brother that the murderer was familiar with the area that upon the map was represented by a nearly straight line of black dots.

Ken was bored and more than a bit annoyed. It was well-past morning, the headquarters were bustling with activity, yet he was alone. And he should not have been alone.

The telephone rang and he grumbled as the shock of it woke him. It rang again and he reached across the desktop for the receiver.

“Hello?” he asked into the device. He coughed; he always cleared his throat out of habit. His voice tended to be raspy and artificial when speaking to people over the telephone. “Yes?”

“Ken, it's Captain Takeshi.”

“Boss, what is it? Where are you?”

“Meeting with the top brass, again,” he answered lightheartedly through that gruff voice of his. “It seems their attitudes changed a bit since last we met. No new leads from the tip line, though?”

“That's right, sir,” Ken replied, sounding worn and tired. “We've had no credible leads.”

“And where's the kid?”

“Not here, boss.”

“Hm,” over the telephone he could be heard tapping his head as if thinking. “I need to speak to him.”

“Wish I knew where he's at, boss.” He explained: “I know he and Kano went to the movies last night. But that's the last I heard of his whereabouts. And Kano isn't in; it's his day-off.”

“Hm,” he sighed and paused. “When he gets there he calls the cell phone, OK? My cell phone.”

“Alright boss, I'll remember that.”

Captain Takeshi hung up and Detective Ken hung up, too.

Frustrated and tired, he dropped a folder atop a desk and tapped his fingers upon its pages.

There were no commonalities between images. It was a hunch that went no-where, damn it!

“It's too early to be frustrated, isn't it, Detective Kenshin?” a male voice asked as the male figure entered into the office.

Ken squinted at the figure through the dim, gray light. It was pre-noon and though the bright sun shined through the windows the headquarters of Omega Squad were moody and somber. “Hideki. And I didn't think Sigma Squad got up this early.”

The two men stood, bowed, and sat across each other with the same, cluttered table between them.

“What brings you into this side of the building?”

“Just wanted to see how it's going with you.” He scanned the files, the papers, the images, he chuckled when he saw the map. “Been making progress?”

“I wish. We know as much now as we did last February. Nothing.”

“Damn shame. I'm surprised the press -” he sneered “- hasn't hounded the department until now. They are slow, aren't they?”

Ken smiled - and nodded.

“I've got problems of my own and it's so fucking frustrating, man.” He leaned aback and rubbed his forehead. “I need a friendly face to yell at for a bit.”

“Your cases from the other day, you mean?” Ken asked, leaning into Detective Hideki.

“Yeah,” the man answered, speaking through the sides of his lips. “And those freaks.”

Kenshin laughed, leaning his shoulder and angling his head: “Let me get this straight: a tiger, er, in the middle of Tokyo, mauled a guy to death?”

“That's what it looks like, man. A tiger. Of course - it's an abandoned part of town - who knows what lurks about, right? We searched that warehouse with a fine-toothed comb. Nothing. And the victim could not be identified - not that we showed off the freak's mug, not with that look in -” he leaned into the detective and said “- you know, we found the guy armed with a sword.”

“I heard about that.” Ken nodded and added: “Guess he wasn't that good or he'd be alive and we'd be collecting animal parts.”

Hideki laughed at the image. “Guess. Still, it's weird, really weird. I don't know about you - you Omega-types aren't like us Sigmas, we're the `X-Files' of the Tokyo PD - heh, heh, I've heard stories about bodies like that. Found all battered and clawed-up and with swords nearby.”

Ken angled his head, again, and noticed that his friend's voice got softer and more deliberate.

“Swords. I don't get it. I was reading through unsolved case files from the turn of the century and it's like every ten, fifteen years a body like that turns up. The mauling, the slicing - and the sword. And that's not the weirdest thing, either,” he emphasized the word with a tap upon the desk. “And then there was the other body we found later that day. I guarantee you haven't been told about it.”

“You found another body? Around the warehouse?” Ken sat upright, shaking a finger as he thought and added: “wait, I heard Medic Kaede talk about another body but I have to admit I -”

“Female. Falls two-thousand feet and dies.”

“A suicide.”

“Falls two-thousand feet - in the middle of the day - from the top of a building so mysterious and top secret, get this, we weren't allowed to approach the guards by the front-doors. I mean - one of their own whatever - tumbles through a window and dies and they act like they don't give a shit.”

“What about the investigation? You'll need to know who she is, where she worked - who was with her, who saw her last -”

“Yes, yes, basic police procedure.” He sat back and slapped his knee. “Every time I tried to enter that building, to call and question anyone inside, the brass denied me that authority.”

“That's fucked up, Hideki,” Kenshin stammered a curse of his own.

He pointed at the ceiling: “I tell you, someone up there is freaked. It's big, big. The female, she was armed with a sword, too. And it was the same, exact kind of sword found by the male. The faces even looked alike Kenshin,” here he wheeled the chair close to the detective. “I told you, I've heard stories, and you know I'm a good listener.” Ken nodded. “Those files I read - I wasn't supposed to be looking at them - they're top secret. But I got them from a friend with connections. Kenshin, what if I told you that every so and so many years there's - like - a convention of freaks amassing in Tokyo? They come here armed with swords to kill each other. Who knows how it works. It could be like a tournament - they battle each other and their weakest lose their lives. What else can it be? What else?”

“But Hideki - listen to what you say - if it's true, then, there's an eighty, hundred year-old man, a sword-wielding, claw-wielding animal loose through the streets of Tokyo battling it out with the these weird opponents armed with swords and claws too. I know all about your freak-theories, old man, and you have to admit this one tops them all.”

“It's ridiculous - I know that - but look, I wasn't the first detective who's hands were tied by higher-ups. The crimes were unsolved because the investigators were stopped by the men in charge of the department. For decades there's been a conspiracy within the PD that purposely - even viciously - covered-up and clamped-down the investigation of these crimes. I don't know how far up the food chain it goes but it goes pretty damn high, Kenshin. And what bothers me - and what should be bothering you two -” now they got so close Hideki spoke directly into Kenshin's ear “- you know I'm a good listener - there are folks high-up terrified that you and your brother just might solve those murders.”

Kenshin blinked and eased back.

Those murders - of the serial killer.

“Hideki, you can't be serious. It's our job - I mean - it can't be swept under the rug.”

“Just to warn you guys; you've watched my back, I've watched yours.”

Ken sighed. And asked: “What building was it? The one the female jumped out of.”

“Corner of thirty-fifth and fifth. It was called the Kikyo Building.”

“The Kikyo building. I admit, I've never heard of it.”

“Me too. Oh, it's beautiful, but for the life of me I can't remember seeing it before. Must have been around a long time too `cause I can't remember watching it be built either. And yet it's one of the tallest buildings in Japan.”

Medics Kaede and Musashi entered into the morgue at the basement of the precinct. The immense, examination room was arctic cold and lit only by the soft, smooth blue light emitted through the computers. There was a hum about the air - it was the drone of the freezers. The freezers that preserved the bodies. The Bodies that were kept about the rear of the chamber inside lockers built along its far and distant wall.

Kaede always shivered when she visited the morgue but that was just the effect of the cold, bitter air. It was not death - that did not ever, really, bother her - death was such a constant of life, her life, that it became like another member of the family. And it was not like an idea that a child could not understand it was very real and physical because she could see it, feel it, that hole in her right hand.

It was the ancient curse of the demon Naraku inherited by all of the offspring of one, certain monk whose name her godfather, Inuyasha, insisted was Miroku. Her father died of the hole growing and enveloping his body. Her mother also died - at childbirth - and though it was not related to the wind tunnel the fact she was forced to birth within a demonic temple was related to the curse.

Hers was a necessarily small family by blood but she grew up with a lot of family by extension. There was Shippo and Inuyasha. And the wolf-demons - she was tormented by the crush she felt for them especially their leader Koga who was no where near as rough as he seemed to be. There was actually a very warm and tender, almost romantic side to the demon. But he was too much like family -

“Medic Kaede?” asked the old man Musashi, poking the young girl's arm. He had been a medical examiner for fifty years and the chief coroner for ten years. “I thought memory problems were for the aged! Remember what we're doing, right?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” she patted the side of his head. The old man was much shorter than she but very spry and nimble for a man of almost-eighty. And just about as flirtatious with the opposite-sex as she was. “Old man,” she said - that was her private, pet name for him. They were close. “Turn on the lights, it's time!”

Musashi flipped the switch and turned on the lights.

Kaede approached an empty operating table. She donned her shoal and washed her hands - carefully concealing her, defect, her curse. One day the old man got very annoyed with the way she washed her hands - and she showed him why she did what she did and that was the end of that. He was, she learned, understanding.

Scared but understanding.

Gloved, with her hair caught by a net, she stood by the table, ready and waiting.

“This is what it comes down to, old man,” she smiled as she saw the rows of shiny new instruments Musashi had prepared and placed for her upon the wheeled, side bench.

“You like this part of the job a little too much, you know.” He did not call her by name, rather, by terms like `you' or `girl' or any number of other names that came to memory. Often names of lovers. “Remember, it's not the parts but what you do with them that counts!”

For a man that age he had a strong, stern voice and she enjoyed hearing it immensely. Sometimes - not always but sometimes - she `messed up' just to hear him yell at her with that voice. There was something about pain - there was something about liking pain - that was strong in her family.

She saw him open the seventeenth drawer; she saw him pull-out the inner tray -

Even ten feet away she sensed something was wrong

She approached the tray and threw the cover back - it was empty.

“Maybe it's not the seventeenth drawer?” he asked more than a bit dumbfounded.

“But it's that female victim from the Kikyo Tower. I placed the body into the try myself.” She removed a tag from the face of the drawer and showed it to him. Indeed, it was her handwriting, it was the Jane Doe for the Sigma Squad Case 0578. “The Kikyo Tower victim.”

“Well, then, someone must have taken the body,” concluded Medic Musashi through a veil of confusion. “Check the logs, girl!” he wagged a finger at her - she retreated onto a rack by the computers as he slid the tray back into the refrigerator.

He walked up to her - she looked at him -

“I don't get this, old man, we could've been told! Isn't that the procedure? The body wasn't lost or misplaced. According to the logs it was removed this morning by a doctor” She pointed toward the last entry upon the books. “I can't read that handwriting, it's, too, old.”

“And what do you think, girl? And old man should be able to read an old writing? Let me see that,” he took the ledger, running his finger across the entry. “Dr - Ko - Kohaku! My word. Oh, my world.”

He stood upright, backing away from the desk and from the books, turning shades of white - she had only seen him that way once.

“What is it?” Her tone was a soft, whisper of a voice. “You know this doctor?”

“Know him? No, no, no. I don't know him, Kaede,” he mumbled and she blinked - it must have been bad if Musashi was using her name. “Well, doesn't this take me back? I've seen that name, Kohaku, a long, long time ago. And it was written the same, exact way, too, with the same, exact writing style. I'll be right back.”

And away he sprinted - out of the morgue into the archive.

Kaede sighed and raised her right hand, alone, onto her chin as if in thought. She reached for the telephone and contacted Detective Hideki - but he did not answer. She thought about going upstairs and meeting him personally to give him the bad news, fact to face, that the body had been removed. Until she looked again at the ledger and was shocked: not only had that Dr. Kohaku taken the female `Kikyo Tower' victim, he had taken the male warehouse victim, too. Suddenly, she, too, got white-faced and weak and already she suspected she knew just who - and what - was responsible.

Time to call Uncle Inuyasha, she thought aloud.

And then the old man returned with an equally old ledger in tow.

At once - and with that voice - spun a yarn: “I had just graduated - college - and landed a cushy, weekend job here with my uncle. He was chief coroner for the city of Tokyo. My duties were to assist with the autopsies. It was not my favorite job, especially, when it came to help the doctors cut up the women. The men, I was OK with it; the women, I could not deal with it.

“And my uncle discovered my weakness. The sick, old man that he was, he arranged for my very first solo autopsy to be of a certain female victim. She had been mauled behind a shipping-yard. Those days there were all sorts of weird, foreign cargo coming into Japan. And everyone wanted to know if it was a tiger or a lion who killed her. The pressed dubbed her `the Cat Woman.'

“I was nervous. Such a high-profile case, you know, to be assigned a lowly technician. And I was scared of my uncle that sick, terrible, sick old man. Well, what could I do? We walked into the morgue. We approached the locker. We opened the drawer - but the tray was empty. My uncle was pissed - somebody lost the body!

“The investigators paid us a visit - and we learned somebody calmed the body. Mind you, girl, the victim's identity was a mystery. But, one way or another, the higher-ups gave the consent and the man took the away the body. I never saw him, I only heard of him, claimed to be a doctor. But he was way, way too young - those days it was different - anyway, he signed for the body himself.”

Musashi opened the logbook onto a page that dated 1939 and tapped the entry.

She looked at it - at the signature - and compared one with the other, side by side.

“Dr. Kohaku.”

“The same exact man.”

“And look, old man, he signed for the male warehouse victim too.”

“I didn't see that.”

“What do you remember about that woman you should have autopsied?”

“Well, lots of things. She was supposed to be my first, you know,” he smiled, being taken back. “She was beautiful. I know, I know. A strange thing to be saying about a body - but - her face, girl, her face was just out of this world. Even that gash through her chest could not spoil the beauty of those eyes. Those eyes. Yes, that I remember more than anything. There was something like not-human about her eyes. But it's hard to say - it's been sixty years - and people, you know, aren't supposed to be that perfect and flawless.”

“But she was called the Cat Woman because?”

“The investigators found a claw embedded inside her chest. Of course, the press ran with it, but to be honest - from what I recall - it wasn't big enough to be a lion's or a tiger's or a bear's. It was more like a dog's claw than anything else.”

She raised an eyebrow - and wondered how far luck could be pressed:

“And I bet - if I showed you her face - you'd remember -”

“What she looked like? I maybe a million years old but there are things you don't forget, if you know what I mean.”

Now it was Medic Kaede's turn to play show and tell. Out of the desktop clutter she produced a report. A report whose existence was not reflected anywhere within the log-books. It was the only thing left that proved there was a victim at the Kikyo Tower. She opened the folder and removed one, single image - of the female's profile - and gave it to the old man.

He seized it and sat without uttering another word.

Detective Kev stumbled into the head quarters of Omega Squad and his very abrupt presence - shaken and disheveled - halted the activity within. The silence was like a wall so overpowering, so impenetrable, that spiders could be heard spinning webs. The boss inside his office looked at him through his door; officers and civilians stopped what they were doing and stared. And then, just like that, as if the switch was flipped, the business of police-work resumed.

“Kev? What happened with you?” Ken was about to berate him about being late, about not calling - and about a bunch of other things more personal than professional. But, looking at his little brother, panic sent a shiver of fear through his body: He and Kano had been out in a date - what if they had held hands at the wrong place, at the wrong time? What if - “You're all right, aren't you? Little bro -”

“Kenshin. I got to tell you something. Come on.” He grabbed his big brother's arm and dragged him away from the desk - and from the various, evidence files open about it top.

Ken protested but Kev's force of action was sudden and unexpected. It was not possible to fight it and before he knew what was happening he was lifted off of his chair, towed away from his desk and his work and heading into the break room.

Kev shut the door - he stopped to catch his breath and adjust his coat, only then realizing the haggard nature of his crazed appearance.

With a shaky, nervous whisper the professional-looking detective asked: “Did something happen last night? Something about the date, I mean - I mean - you're all right, aren't you?”

But the exhausted-looking detective was not listening. His attention was focused elsewhere: to the walls, to the window, to the door. He searched about the small, little room like a Sherlock Holmes desperate for clues but finding nothing. And he was not satisfied.

“It's not safe here. Come on.” Again he grabbed his brother's arm - but that time his brother's protests were stronger, firmer. “Please, Kenshin! We can't speak inside this building!”

Alone, Kev exited the break room. Sighing, Ken followed. Through the backdoor-hallway, from the upper-reaches of the precinct into the lower-levels of the garage. A moment later Kev located his brother's car and waited by its passenger's door.

“It's serious, isn't it, little brother?”

“We have to be careful, that's all.”

The doors unlocked and the detectives entered.

Kevin walked many, uncounted miles without sleep. And now, inside the vehicle against its comfortable seat, he relaxed almost into a lull. Almost into asleep.

“So? So, Kevin-san, are you going to tell me what happened? And what's that smell - incense -”

“Yes - it's incense - I think they were lighting it. I don't remember, Ken, I didn't see. It was also musty. Look,” he sat up and faced his brother: “last night, after the movie, I walked Shi - Kano - home. I walked him home. And, then, I went for a short walk through the city all by myself.”

“Seems like it was a bad idea for you - you weren't beaten were you?”

“No. Listen.” He paused and collected his breath, his thoughts. His Japanese was too erratic and he slipped into English. “I was approached by a source.” He looked squarely at Kenshin. “He wanted to give me information about who might be responsible for the killings.”

Detective Ken knotted his brow. “What sort of information?” he asked.

“I can't tell you everything. You wouldn't believe it - and, hell - I don't know the whole story.” He looked at his lap, patting his jacket. “I wasn't told everything. And I know you'd think it was nuts but I know what I know, big bro. I was there. I believe what I saw was true. I am not an idiot.”

“Alright. You trust your source.”

Detective Kev was adamant about information he could not reveal. He said it did not matter and it amounted to material like: who was his source and why was it secret. And he knew, more than anything, delving into those matters would not amuse his detective brother. His appearance was haggard enough that he looked crazy, he did not want to sound crazy too.

Using the language of a police officer, he `sanitized' the story Inuyasha unfolded. He described Onigumo - alias Naraku - as a modern-day Professor Moriarty. A spider sitting at the center of a web that extended into all facets of life inside Japan. People in government, people in business - people in power - were influenced by his plotting and scheming. He sat atop a building, removed and disconnected from the world; hated and feared, he could not leave the safety and comfort of that lair. He let lackey do the dirty work and that, of course, kept his own hands clean.

Kenshin nodded and added: “Your source's Onigumo sounds like what you Americans call `the godfather.'

“Yes, it's got the flavor of organized-crime.”

“Plausible - not probable but plausible. Anyway, what does that have to do with the serial-killer?”

“I trust my source. I believe him. My source is one of those men who hate him and campaign against him. He's a loner, absolutely, not a gang-member. Ken, this goes beyond gangs and crime-syndicates. It's unique. Completely, utterly unique. I cannot wrap my mind around all of it.” He leaned toward Ken and, speaking eye-ball to eye-ball, explained: “Onigumo knows about my source and his activities. He knows my source's weak-point is someone very close and important. A girl, fifteen-years-old.”

“A girl? Like, a daughter? Family?”

“He did not say what she meant. Personally. And he refused to identify her to protect her. Because while Onigumo knows the girl exists he does not know much more about her other than her name and her appearance.” He poked Kenshin's arm and smiled as the tale weaved itself together into perfect unison: “Onigumo wants to kill that girl to get back at my source. To affect that end he's hired a budding young serial-killer - or made him - or groomed him.”

“A hired gun? Firing at anyone who matches the description of that girl? Ah, eventually he'll hit the target.” Detective Ken crossed his arms and sat aback. Looking at his brother - who remained still and silent - he caught his breath and answered: “Sounds fantastic, little brother, like the plot of a cheap novel.”

“Kenshin. You know me. I am not an idiot. I wouldn't have told you all of this if I didn't believe it.”

“Detective Kev,” he put his hand onto his brother's shoulder and squeezed. “If you want me to believe you, alright, OK, I believe you. Now - evidence? Proof? Remember we're cops -”

“I know, I know,” he confessed, looking away through the windshield. He gripped his hands into transient fists, crackling his knuckles. “We have to be careful, Onigumo has connections - I think - even into the police department.”

Ken laughed - and then, very quickly, very abruptly, quieted

“You need rest - ah!” With a finger against his lips he forestalled any attempt by Kev to protest. “I bet you've been awake all night long. You need sleep. Sleep, kid. Contact your source, get him to give you proof. Leads. Our job is to catch a serial killer not to stop a spider-demon mastermind. How about we solve one problem at a time, huh?”

“Alright.” Kev clutched about the zipper of his coat and glared. “If I've got to sleep to make you feel better, I will. But all the sleep in the world won't change the truth of what I saw. What happened.”

“What did happen? What did you see?”

“It involves a lot of people and I cannot talk about it. Trust is very important to those people.”

“You cannot talk about it? Even to your big brother, huh?”

“They didn't need to contact me; they did because they wanted me to know. They don't just let anyone into their circle. I'm sorry, Ken, but if they wanted you to know they would've contacted you. I'm sorry -”

“You're tired. And this is what happens to people who're tired. Cop or not. American or not.”

Kev chuckled and, again, looked at his lap. “I'll ask my source if I'm allowed to tell you. But until I'm allowed you've got understand the secrecy. I think it's the key to solving this problem. If it weren't, they wouldn't have shown themselves -”

Kenshin raised an eyebrow.

“I think you were right, big bro, the serial killer is a man. And I was right, too, his motive isn't sex. Alright. I'll go home. I'll sleep.” He squeezed Kenshin's hand. “I must've made quite a scene - there - didn't I?”

He laughed and mused: “Omega Squad's used to your antics. Actually, it's what makes you normal - isn't it? Yes.”

Kev smiled and exited - he walked out of the garage out of sight.

Ken watched his brother leave - and when the figure of the disheveled, crazy-looking American vanished into the city he returned into the office.

“Kev is OK, isn't he?” Medic Kaede asked. She and the old man, Medic Musashi, saw him earlier as he walked up the stairs into the headquarters.

“He needs rest. Sleep. Spent last night awake, heh heh heh.”

“Hm, odd, Kano didn't come home until very late last night. Seemed to be tired but all right, though. Maybe they went to a party -”

Ken raised another eyebrow. When did Kev say he took Kano home? “Kevin. He's a very mature person. Always acts older than what he looks. Something happened - but - he needs rest.”

“Well - good-luck with that case,” she said, kissing his cheek.

He smiled and sat back. “Thanks, I'll need it.”

Detective Ken sat at the desk and looked at the map. What a wild and crazy story Kevin told, he thought. But his little brother was mature. And he was a cop's cop. He could not have been that shaken unless whatever he stumbled into was big. Really big.

He put himself into Kevin's position - and concluded he, too, would have reacted the same way. Except he would have gotten a good night's sleep before he told anyone about it.

By the payphone there was a directory. He took it, opened it and searched through its listing. There was an Onigumo. To be exact: “The Firm of Onigumo-MR, Private Interest and Consulting,” located at 418 Thirty-Fifth, Suite 1001, the Kikyo Building. His hands lost their grip and the directory slipped through his fingers. His eyes - again - transfixed onto the map. He ran toward it, he reached it and followed the line formed by the black-dots - those places were the killer dumped the bodies. He traced its length past its upper-end and there, just an inch away from the last crime scene, was the corner of thirty-fifth and fifth and the Kikyo Building.

He circled the spot with a pen.

“Little brother, what did you find -”