InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ One ❯ A Learning Experience ( Chapter 9 )

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and other associated companies.

 

 

Chapter 09: A Learning Experience

 

 

It was a warm night in downtown Tokyo. Sulfur streetlamps burned, casting orange spotlights on the parked cars below. Crumpled plastic bags and wrappers littered the cracked sidewalk or drowned in the sopping gutter. Sesshoumaru stepped over them silently as he walked along the sidewalk, keeping to the shadows. On his left, he passed countless buildings. Made of brick or smooth concrete, they blended into each other one after the other. Greasy restaurants, adult stores and pawn shops. Behind their storefront windows and doors, an intimidating lattice of bars stretched. And in the corners, there was the stark glow of neon twisted into garish characters. Closed.

 

Hearing a rattling jingle approach, Sesshoumaru quickly stepped into the gap between two buildings. Panting as he ran, a man pushed a ramen cart past him. In his blind hustle to get home, he didn't notice the daiyoukai a few steps from him. After all, night was settling in. And those who weren't meant to be in it were best tucked away behind a deadbolt or two.

 

Sesshoumaru stepped back out onto the sidewalk. Taking a deep breath, he absorbed the smells of the city. The earthiness of the concrete and the sourness of the sewer; they permeated the air with the gritty smog. He let out his breath. This place, he realized, had something he hadn't quite expected. A pulse, and it flowed through it like the trains over their tracks.

 

A brick wall turned into a chain-link fence, and his attention snapped back from his lofty thoughts to his more immediate surroundings. At three times his height, the fence towered over him with coils of razor-wire looping over the top. Bolted to it was a beat up sign. It read Police Impound Lot.

 

Sesshoumaru peered through the fence. Parked in orderly spaces were rows of cars. Most of them were simply dusty, waiting for their owners to pay their past-due tickets. Further back were the mangled messes, automobiles involved in severe accidents that still warranted investigation.

 

The daiyoukai smirked. Its tall hold rising higher than the smaller cars around it, he spotted the delivery truck. He took a few steps back and leapt up. Not the acrobat he once was, he didn't clear the top, but grabbed on just beneath the razor-wire. He reached up for the wire and felt a biting sting. Surprised by it, he let go and dropped back down to the ground.

 

Putting his finger in his mouth, Sesshoumaru sucked away the metal taste of blood. The gash wasn't deep. In fact, it had already clotted. He felt a measure of gratitude for his youkai toughness as he imagined that more learning experiences were no doubt on their way.

 

His eyes followed the razor-wire as it curled at the top of every stretch of fencing, thwarting any further attempts. To leap over it, he needed to get higher. His sight gravitated toward the brick building neighboring the lot. He walked over to it. There was a narrow alley that ran between them. He checked the distance. It was about three paces wide. It was easily enough.

 

With his back against the building, Sesshoumaru faced the fence. Gathering his strength, he jumped up, but instead of grabbing the fence when he landed against it, he pivoted away to make another leap. The chain links rattled as he pushed off and landed against the building's wall. Now at twice the height, his boot gripped the wall for a fraction of a moment as he twisted back toward the lot and made his final leap. Sailing over the razor-wire, he landed on the asphalt drive inside with a loud thud.

 

Sesshoumaru rose up, his ears sharp as he listened for any security whose suspicion he might have aroused. But all he heard were air conditioning units rumbling in the distance. No one came.

 

He walked over to the truck. It still smelled strong of spilled fuel and radiator fluid. Going around the cab, he found the driver's side door and lifted the handle. It was unlocked, and with a soft whine, it opened. Most of the interior was stripped and everything else was coated in a thin residue of fingerprint powder. The police had taken most of the evidence, but not everything.

 

Sesshoumaru sniffed the air keenly. A multitude of scents filled his nostrils, muddling together into an almost indiscernible mess. As he recalled, the television had stated recently that the truck was stolen, so he disregarded the older scents. But relying on the fresher scents proved to be just as confusing. The police had been in and out of the vehicle for days, leaving behind their odors as they conducted their investigation.

 

Then one scent began to stand out from the rest. Thick and salty, it clung to the seat. It was sweat. The police wouldn't have sweated in the truck. This scent could be the one he was looking for. The one that belonged to his prey.

 

Sesshoumaru inhaled again, exploring the smell. There was a mix of soaps and dirt, smoke from his cigarettes, the noodle broth he had spilt on himself earlier in the day, and automobile grease. They melded together to create a distinctive profile of the man, and one that he could track.

 

Finished, Sesshoumaru shut the door quietly. He stealthily made his way back toward the fence, and with a running jump, he leapt on top of a car before he bounded over the fence.

 

Staying hidden like before, the daiyoukai walked down the sidewalk. The man's scent cycled through his mind as he teased each element apart. The dust from his clothes had notes of a unique soot and fuel. Since he began living in the city, he hadn't smelled it too often except when he and Souta made their occasional visits to the lumberyard.

 

His stride quickening, Sesshoumaru turned down a new street and made his way toward the harbor and the industrial side of the city. After a few shortcuts through alleys and across empty lots, he found himself on the familiar frontage road near the lumberyard. Running parallel beside it were the iron rails of a railroad track.

 

Sesshoumaru sniffed the air and picked up a faint trace of diesel ash. He nodded. The earth smelled right.

 

He walked down the sidewalk, following the road away from the harbor. There wasn't any sea salt in the man's scent. On his right, were a series of dilapidated buildings. Mostly they were hardware stores, restaurants and repair shops with squiggles of graffiti staining their paint-chipped walls. One place stood out. It had blue, square-shaped cuts of cloth hanging from its eave. With one character was written on each piece, the sign spelled out Noodle Shop.

 

He noticed a savory mix of aromas lingering in the air, still strong even though the restaurant had closed a few hours ago. There was miso, soy and chicken broth along with a blend of other seasonings. The proportions were uncannily similar to that what was in the truck. Sesshoumaru walked up to the dark storefront and sniffed again. The scents of dozens of humans overwhelmed him as he looked for the specific profile of the man: soap, cigarettes, broth and grease.

 

Then his eyes widened. He found the man he was looking for, but by the scent he had forgotten. The one scent that left him without any doubt. The man carried with him still the faint odor of the truck.

 

Sesshoumaru stepped away from the restaurant and followed the scent. Only a couple hours old, it was fresh. The man must have eaten there for dinner. He tracked it down the sidewalk until it pooled around a concrete building with big, steel roll-up doors. An auto repair garage, it was protected by a chain link fence. Considerably less intimidating than the one at the impound lot, Sesshoumaru leapt over it easily.

 

There was a rustle followed by the pattering of racing paws. With burly shoulders and bared teeth, a dog came around the corner to meet the intruder. It growled viciously when it spotted Sesshoumaru, its hair standing up like ridge on its back.

 

The daiyoukai's eyes narrowed and he returned its growl with one of his own. Whining under its ferocity, the dog bent its head and lay down.

 

Sesshoumaru snorted; satisfied that at least his rank among dogs hadn't changed over the years. He walked pass the submissive beast and toward the rear of the building. The thick, sweet smell of cigarettes inundated the air. Then his pace slowed when he heard men chuckling.

 

As he peeked around the corner, he found them. The orange ember of a cigarette at their lips, they stood atop a short flight of steps, their bodies leaning against the railing. Backlit by cool fluorescent light, they smoked in front of a door propped open by a concrete block.

 

Sesshoumaru watched them for sometime as he formulated his plan when one man ground the tip of his used up cigarette into the railing and tossed it into rusted can. With a casual wave to his friend, he walked back into the building.

 

Alone now, the other man took out his cigarette carton and shook it lightly until another cigarette fell out onto his palm. He put it to his lips as he shoved the carton back into his pocket and fumbled around for his lighter, oblivious to the danger that closed in from the darkness. Flipping the cap up on his lighter, he went to light his cigarette when a shadow fell over him.

 

“Sousuke, you back already?” he asked, but his smile vanished when he noticed that the shadow had two points on top of its head. He turned around and his cigarette dropped. “What the hell?”

 

A sound hit to his stomach put an end to the man's questions. And as he crumpled, a hand flew over his mouth to smother his groan. Sesshoumaru dragged him down the steps backwards until they were out in the darkness. Then the demon hoisted the man up and dropped him onto the hard asphalt, knocking him out for good.

 

The daiyoukai slipped back toward the garage and sniffed the air. There were four active scents, one belonging to the unconscious man. That left him with three more enemies. Stealthily, he made his way up the stairs and with sharp ears, he entered the doorway.

 

Inside there was a short hallway that led toward a wide open garage. Ahead, he could see a small car raised up on a floor jack. A pair of smeared-black pant legs stuck out from beneath it. A hand reach out from underneath the car, tossing out a part. The part slid across the floor until it landed with the others in a pile at the man's feet.

 

Reaching the end of the hallway, Sesshoumaru looked around the corner. There was another car beside the first. It was not much more than a skeletal frame and a man wearing a metal hood walked around it carrying a blowtorch. As he set to butchering it, a pale blue light flickered off the walls of the garage in rhythm with the popping sizzle of the sharpened flame.

 

Beneath the crackling, Sesshoumaru could hear the thunderous drumming of his own heartbeat. It surprised him to hear it. Fear and excitement swelled in him, and he couldn't be more pleased.

 

Working on a new piece, the man with the torch turned away, and Sesshoumaru stepped out. He walked over to the first man and grabbed his leg. Lying on a mechanic's creeper, the man rolled out with an easy tug.

 

“Hey!” the man yelled until he looked up to see who had gotten him. The strike was fast as Sesshoumaru planted his fist in the man's face.

 

Hearing the yell over his cutting, the other man turned around. Seeing Sesshoumaru, he turned up his torch and came after him. Sesshoumaru glanced around and spotted a crowbar leaning against a crate. He picked it up. The man lunged, and the daiyoukai twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the scorching flame. He swung the crowbar up, hooking the man under the jaw. And then he yanked it back, slamming the man down onto the ground. Groaning in pain, the man writhed on the floor, and Sesshoumaru whacked him in the gut with the crowbar to silence him.

 

Hearing the squeaking of scrambling boots over the polished floor, Sesshoumaru looked up. As it bolted toward the hallway, the daiyoukai spotted his prey. Without thinking, he dropped his crowbar and reached for the butchered car. Lighter than expected, he picked it up and with a grunt, threw it. The car flew past the man's head and collided with the hallway with a loud, crumpling bang.

 

The whimpering man fell back onto the floor, overwhelmed with fear and shock.

 

Sesshoumaru stooped over and picked up the crowbar. With a relaxed self-assuredness, he approached the man.

 

“What…” the man stuttered as he slid away until his back hit the wall, “What are you?!”

 

“Those who are about to die needn't know what I am,” Sesshoumaru replied.

 

“Die?! Wait! Wait! I'll do whatever you want! Give you whatever you want! Just don't kill me!”

 

“I am still adjusting to this time, and this idea of not killing criminals is a difficult concept to grasp.”

 

The man whimpered.

 

Sesshoumaru struck him with the crowbar, putting an end to his misery.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The night faded as the gray dawn streaked the morning sky. His head throbbing and his face sticky, the man slowly began to wake up. His eyelids cracked, exposing him to a blurry world. He tried to rub his eyes, but his sore arms felt like dead weights twisted behind his back. So instead, he blinked until everything came into focus.

 

In a daze, he stared at the side of a wrecked car in front of him and then at the long row of them to his right. He must be in a parking lot, but not one that he could easily recognize.

 

His stupor lifted. Again, he tried to move his arms, and when he did, he heard the rattle of a chain. Looking around as well as he could, he realized he was sitting back against the rim of a truck wheel and the chain he heard was binding his wrists around it.

 

Hearing the noise, a white figure stepped out from around the truck, and the man nearly screamed. It walked over and knelt down in front of him.

 

“Be thankful, human, for I have decided to grant you a choice,” the daiyoukai said.

 

The man stared into the mask and at the terrifying, gold eyes behind it.

 

“The first is that you and your colleagues will confess to the police. You will tell them of all your illegal activities, including those involving this vehicle. The second choice happens if you refuse to.”

 

“What happens to us if we refuse to?”

 

“I will return.” Sesshoumaru punched the truck's hold above the man's head, denting it deep. “Understand, human?”

 

The man nodded fervently.

 

Muffled by the thick steel, the newly imprisoned men inside the truck's hold began to shout.

 

“Your allies are inside. The police will apprehend you shortly. Remember your choices.”

 

Then with a sweep of his trench coat, Sesshoumaru left, his crowbar still in hand.