InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Love's Smirking Revenge ❯ On a Dark and Stormy Night... ( Chapter 1 )

Love's Smirking Revenge

- Chapter One -

“On A Dark and Stormy Night…”

A heavy Tokyo rain thundered against the roof of the squad car, ignorant of the single occupant's throbbing migraine. Dragging heavily from the freshly lit cigarette at his lips, he eyed the scene ahead of him through the windshield.

Swarms of television reporters and journalists braved the downpour beneath their sleek black umbrellas in the hopes of scooping up some wayward scrap of information to use in the evening news. He thought they looked like flies hovering around a festering carcass.

With a muttered comment about how he `fucking hated reporters' he stabbed what was left of his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray next to him and reached for his jacket in the backseat. Pulling it over his shoulders, he flipped up the collar and with a resounding sigh prepared himself for the cold November rain that would greet him the moment he ventured from the car.

The sounds and smells from outside hit him like a wall as he slammed the car door shut. A blue and red haze of emergency lights flashed up ahead, but the blinding spotlights of the photographer's bulbs were brighter. Within two strides he was encircled by a frenzy of blurred faces and microphones, rudely shoved within inches of his mouth as though they expected something profound to come out.

“No comment,” he snarled and pushed his way through with an irritated grunt.

The shouts and pleas of the crowd died off as he dipped below the yellow crime scene tape to the other side of the barrier. Detective Takahashi took a moment to survey the ordered chaos going on around him before setting his sights on an unsuspecting constable who had the unfortunate bad luck of being within arm's reach. Grabbing him roughly by the arm, he nodded his head towards the crowd and scowled.

“What part of keep the hounds at bay don't you understand, son? Do your fucking job and get those damned reporters out of here!”

The kid, who couldn't have been older than twenty, noticeably paled and nodded his head dumbly.

“Ye-yes sir, of course sir, it won't happen again!”

With a short jerky bow he stepped toward the crowd and began barking orders to step back from the line.

Mouth set firm, Takahashi straightened his shoulders and stalked toward the heart of the crime scene. It was the 54th homicide of the year - he'd been keeping count out of a morbid sense of curiosity - and he wasn't exactly enthusiastic about adding another case to his already mountainous workload. For every case he closed, six more were waiting on his desk with no leads, no witnesses and no end in sight.

Upon entering the inner crime scene circle, he was accompanied by a rather nervous but competent officer from 39th division. Apparently the body straddled the boundaries of both divisions, meaning that there would be a messy political battle ahead. There was nothing Takahashi hated more vehemently than office politics. He was of the mind that it was best to go to work, do your job and go home - end of story. He didn't have time to waste on figuring out whose ass to kiss, so he never did. Sure, it had probably cost him a promotion here or there, but that was just fine with him. `Promotion' was just a fancy word for `more ass kissing' and the less he had to do of it the better.

“So what's the story with this one?” he asked gruffly, eyeing the white sheet that'd been laid over the body. A watery blood stain seeped out from the head of the victim and the rain washed it down across the pavement, taking with it any evidence they might have been able to use.

“You're not gonna like this one boss,” the officer warned as he flipped open his clipboard and lifted his umbrella to shield both of them from the rain. Takahashi grunted noncommittally. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and tilted his head to read the clipboard. His amber eyes scanned the scribbled notes until they fell on the name of the victim and widened with surprise.

“So, he finally paid the Piper,” he commented dryly with a low whistle.

His eyes scanned the body with a new sense of appreciation. He was actually surprised `Lucky' had been so lucky. He was one of the top rats in the most dangerous yakuza group ever to roam Tokyo. He'd single-handedly helped put three big time lackeys behind bars and was the star witness in several pending cases. It was only a matter of time before someone called his number. With a small smile Takahashi realized that this might end up being a case he'd enjoy working. He was curious to know who'd finally taken `Lucky' Akita out to pasture.

“Where's my coffee?!” he demanded suddenly, shouting at the officers surrounding him. Some of them gaped at him wide-eyed, the rest ignored him as per usual. Easing his hands into his pockets to keep them warm, he absently jingled his car keys and surveyed the scene in front of him.

“So what do we know so far?” he asked the officer at his side.

His hands emerged from his pockets briefly to accept the steaming cup of coffee offered by a female corporal. He dismissed her with a slight nod of his head before taking a careful sip.

“Well, it's a single GSW to the head, execution style. We haven't found the gun or shell casings yet. A few uniforms are searching every dumpster in a three block radius but it's not looking good.”

“That's to be expected,” Takahashi cut in. He trained his amber eyes on the officer's with a look that said `Listen up. I'm about to teach you something important'.

“You see, Lucky here was an informant. It's almost guaranteed one of the bosses he rubbed the wrong way in the past put a hit out on him. If this is a professional hit for hire we're not going to find the murder weapon in those dumpsters. Any evidence that could've been left behind has long since been washed away.”

With a meaningful glare he nodded at the rain laden clouds. A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, briefly lighting up the night before plunging them once more into darkness.

“Don't think this storm was just a coincidence. They take everything into consideration.”

The officer nodded his head readily and jotted a couple of additional notes to the bottom of his clipboard. Takahashi took an appreciative sip of the steaming coffee in his hands and let out a relieved sigh as its heat seeped slowly into his bones, warming him from the inside out.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, “Time to put the pieces back together.”

***

When Takahashi awoke the next morning, it was to the blaring ring of the telephone. His hand snaked across the table to the phone, pushing aside a half empty glass of Suntory and an overloaded ashtray out of the way in the process. Picking up the receiver he jammed it against his ear without bothering to open his eyes.

“What,” he demanded, his voice rough from drink and lack of sleep. His head was pounding. He winced as he tried to open his eyes against the blinding sunlight seeping through a crack in the blinds. Thinking better of it, he scrunched them shut and massaged his forehead with his palm instead.

“Boss, it's me. Have you read the paper this morning?”

“Does it sound like I've read the paper?” he demanded irritably.

With a groan, he threw the covers off his body and padded across his apartment to the door. Stopping to scratch an itch, he pulled the phone away from his ear and yawned. It took a solid back stretch, a loud crack to signify that everything was settling into place, and a full body shake before he felt awake enough to open the door. Groaning loudly he stooped to pick up the paper - conveniently delivered to his doorstep by the morning carrier - and carried it inside under his arm.

The door was kicked shut behind him and he stumbled over to the folding table set up in the centre of his kitchen. Dropping down heavily onto a nearby folding chair, he nestled the phone between his ear and shoulder and opened his daily copy of the Asahi Shimbun.

“What'm I lookin' for?”

The officer on the other end of the line, who had remained patiently silent up until that point, helpfully pointed out that he should turn to page six. Thumbing through the next several pages, he stopped at the designated spot to let his sleep bleary eyes scan its contents.

There was a small article about the GSW from the previous night, nothing to be too concerned about. He was about to say as much when his eyes fell on a particularly interesting paragraph.

“…the 29th Division has veteran detective Inuyasha Takahashi working the case. Currently there are no leads or suspects and there is a surprising lack of evidence found at the scene. Takahashi has suggested that the city's 54th homicide of the year was in fact a mob hit, saying that the victim, one Ren `Lucky' Akita, “finally paid the Piper.”

“`Lucky' Akita, as he preferred to be called, was a top informant to the authorities on the movements of several yakuza clans and was scheduled to be the star witness in several upcoming high profile trials. His death is a great loss to our city. This reporter can only hope that Detective Takahashi will take a more serious attitude when it comes to finding the perpetrators of this crime. Considering his less than impressive track record this past year…”

With the sound of his teeth grinding in his ears, Takahashi slammed the phone down on the table. His eyes panned to the top of the article and his lips moved as he read the name of the journalist who had somehow infiltrated his information net - Kagome Higurashi. Narrowing his eyes at the blurred greyscale picture of her, he burned the image into his memory.

With a snarl he threw the paper to the floor and stalked to the bathroom for a shower. This was just the way he'd wanted to start his day - with a pounding headache, a hangover from hell and some fucking two bit reporter tearing his reputation to shreds all over Japan.

Kagome Higurashi, whoever the annoying little bitch was, was going learn hard and fast that it wasn't wise to tangle horns with Inuyasha Takahashi.