InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 10: Anomaly ❯ Bump in the Night ( Chapter 16 )

Frowning thoughtfully as he slowly paced the floor before the long bank of windows, going over the pages of documents that were sent over by MT Financial via courier earlier in the day, Mikio stifled the urge to sigh.  Cain had come through, and he’d asked a friend who just happened to be a judge to issue the subpoena.  MT Financial hadn’t wasted too much time in turning over the documents, even if they had only complied with the bare minimum, and that really hadn’t surprised Mikio at all.  They had only seen fit to provide him with the raw data, and much of it was encoded, seemingly providing just employee access numbers in a log format to show who had accessed the databases and at what times.  Unfortunately, there was no record of what files were accessed, which only made Mikio’s task a little more difficult since everything was in numbers.  Basically, it meant that Mikio wouldn’t really be able to do much more than identify users’ access numbers, but he had no names to go with it.

At least, it was a place to start, he figured.  If he could narrow down the access numbers that coincided with the server that Gavin’s reports were stored on, then he’d be able to demand a list of the names, as well, even if he had to ask for another subpoena for that.  All in all, it looked like there were a total of ten servers that they used in the sharing of the financial reports, but he could safely rule out a few of them, given that they seemed to have more open access than the others.

Even so, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the company’s attorney really was trying to make things more difficult than they needed to be.  He ought to be willing to share information, given that Gavin worked for the company, too, which meant that it should have been their attorney’s job to represent Gavin.

‘Unless they think he’s responsible or they’re trying to cover up for someone else.’

He frowned.  True enough, it was easy to jump to conclusions, of course.  The thing was, it was still too early to tell, and he knew from experience that it didn’t help to hold onto preconceived notions.

‘Except you also know damn well that you should never ignore your instincts, either.  What does your gut tell you?’

Pondering the question posted to him by his youkai-voice, Mikio tucked the file under his elbow, crossing his arms over his chest as he stopped before the windows and peered out into the fading daylight.  All around him, the lights of the city were coming to life, the steady stream of traffic, making the evening commute home for the day.  It was rather ironic, wasn’t it?  He’d seen the same sort of thing in Tokyo, safe in the confines of his office in the Inutaisho office building.  It was rather comforting . . . Half a world away, and still, the familiarity was a strangely welcome feeling . . .

The thing was, his gut feeling told him that there was definitely something going on, something below the surface of the investigation—someone meant for the perception of guilt to light, entirely on Gavin, and the deeper he dug, the more that feeling grew.  But he also had to wonder if his feeling was rooted directly in the staunch belief it’s what he really was uncovering, or if it was simply what he was preconditioned to believe.  He’d have to be the first to admit that he certainly didn’t want to believe that Gavin might have had anything to do with it, but he’d also like to believe that he was open-minded enough to be able to maintain a level of neutrality on the issue, too.

‘This is why they discourage you from representing a relative,’ he thought wanly.

‘Maybe.  Then again, you have far too much integrity to just blindly believe that someone wouldn’t do something just because you’re related to them.  Besides, you don’t know Gavin well enough for that to really be an issue.  No, you’re just going on your instincts here, and that’s what you really should do.  Just look at the lengths the company’s going to in order to keep you out of the loop because they really are acting squirrelly about it.  If they weren’t trying to hide something, then they’d have been more than happy to toss the proof of Gavin’s guilt in your face, don’t you think?’

Slowly, Mikio nodded.  That was pretty much what he thought, too.

The trill of his cell phone broke through the quiet, and he blinked, digging the phone from his pocket, frowning at the name that came up on the caller ID.  “Nii-san,” he greeted after connecting the video chat.

Cain sat back in his desk chair and smiled in greeting.  “Were you able to get the documents you needed?” he asked, foregoing the pleasantries.

“Yeah, I did,” he replied.  “They finally sent them over today.  I was just looking them over.”

“Anything useful?”

“Kind of.  Well, I hope so, anyway.  They did send the network log files, but everything’s recorded in numbers, so I’ve got to figure out which server I’m looking at, and then, I’ll have to figure out who’s login IDs I’m looking at.  I don’t know how difficult it will be.  I mean, if they want to make things more difficult, then I’ll end up, having to subpoena that information, as well.”

Cain nodded slowly, his face shifting into a thoughtful scowl.  “They know that you’re only trying to help exonerate Gavin of any wrongdoing.  Gavin’s told them that a number of times.  I really don’t see why they’re giving you such a hard time.  I mean, it doesn’t really make sense.”

For some reason, Mikio was reluctant to voice his own thoughts on that.  Then again, maybe it was simply because he didn’t want to come off as accusatory—not without any kind of proof, anyway.  “They don’t know much about me, and I’m not from the States—or maybe they’d do the same thing, regardless.  Maybe they don’t like the idea of bringing in a third party, no matter who it is.”

“Maybe,” Cain allowed, but the expression on his face was still pretty foreboding.  “I trust you’ll let me know if you need anything else?”

“Yes, thanks,” he replied.  “And thanks again for helping me get the subpoena.”

“Not a problem,” he assured him.  “Just keep me updated about what you find out.”

“I will.  Uh, tell nee-chan I send my regards.”

Cain finally chuckled, but he still seemed a little thoughtful.  “Absolutely.”

The connection ended, and Mikio let out a deep breath.

It all felt like the proverbial uphill battle, and, while he was used to working to get the answers he was after, something about this entire situation . . .

One thing was certain.  If they thought that he would give up if they just made things more difficult for him, then they were wrong.

“< i>I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you . . . Everything about you . . . You’re perfect to me.  Your eyes, your lips . . . Everything that is you . . . I . . . God help me, I cannot live without you!”

“Speak no more of it, I beg you . . . Love means naught at all when it brings naught but hatred, naught but fear, to our families.  My people will never accept you, and yours will never have me, either . . . You . . . You must leave me and never return.”

“It cannot be so . . . Without you, I—”

“I’m sorry.  I . . . I can’t be with you.  I just can’t!”

Refraining from the mounting desire to roll his eyes at the over-the-top and ridiculously melodramatic movie, Mikio smothered a sigh and resisted the urge to reach for the files that lay on the coffee table.  He’d had suspicions when Madison had read the movie title—Once in a Lifetime.  Then she’d read the short summary: something about a retelling of the ‘greatest love story’, Romeo and Juliet, and he’d rather thought that it wasn’t exactly something he would choose to watch, but  Madison, it seemed, was enjoying the sappy love story well enough.

Huddled against the other end of the sofa with her feet drawn up, knees bent and resting against the high back, her hands were tucked between her stomach and legs, Madison leaned against the cushions behind her, her attention fixed squarely on the television.

‘Look on the bright side.  You’ve found a new movie to suggest to aniki,’ his youkai-voice remarked.

Mikio stifled what would otherwise have been a very loud snort.  ‘I don’t think even aniki would like this one,’ he muttered, idly fingering his twitching left ear.

“Oh, I can’t do it,” Madison said, swinging her legs off of the sofa and scooting forward to nab the remote control off of the coffee table.  “Do you mind if I change the channel?  If you’re enjoying the movie, I won’t . . .”

He lifted a hand, palm up, indicating that she was welcome to do it.  “Oh, kami, please do,” he blurted before he could stop himself.

She shot him a questioning glance, but giggled softly.  “Just not feeling it, huh?”  She sighed.  “It didn’t seem nearly that lurid on the trailers.  Someone should sue them for false advertising . . .”

The only thing that kept him from laughing outright was the sense of abject disappointment on her face.  “Well, if it’s supposed to be a retelling of Romeo and Juliet, then the death and chaos shouldn’t be too long in coming if you want to keep watching it,” he offered.

She blinked and glanced at him, and then, she laughed.  “Yeah, but it kind of defeats the purpose if you’re rooting for the main characters to die at that point of the film,” she remarked.  “Oh, look!  The House of Blacknight is available for streaming . . . That one looked interesting, too . . .”

He shook his head.  “I haven’t heard of it.  Then again, I can’t say I’ve had a lot of time to watch trailers or anything lately, either.”

“Oh, it’s a supernatural thriller that’s supposedly based on a true story about an old castle somewhere in Ireland that’s said to be one of the most haunted places on earth.  They didn’t know much about it for a long time, though, because the place supposedly vanishes when people get too near.”

“A disappearing castle?  If it disappears when people get close, then how did they find it?”

She flipped through the channels to find the movie.  “They say that someone found an old diary that told the secrets of how, exactly, to approach it so that it wouldn’t disappear.”

“Based on a true story, you say?” he asked, sounding more than a little dubious.  “Sounds like it was very lightly based on one.  Was the prior owner a magician named Howl?”

She blinked and stared at him.  “Howl?”

“An old Miyazaki Hayato film.  This guy’s castle would . . .” He trailed off and waved a hand.  “Never mind.”

Her lips were twitching, but she didn’t smile.  “You don’t believe in hauntings?”

He snorted.  “Can’t say I do.”

She laughed again, propping her elbow up on the back of the sofa, resting her temple against her curled fingers.  “I don’t know . . . I mean, lots of people don’t believe in youkai, you know . . . But that aside, don’t you have hobbies, Mikio?” she half-teased.  “Just work, work, and more work?”

He shrugged and stood up to grab a couple bottles of water.  “I enjoy my work,” he told her with an apologetic little grin.

She heaved a sigh, designed to let him know, just what she thought of that, and he chuckled softly as he stepped around the corner, into the kitchen.  It wasn’t really that he didn’t have other things that interested him, he supposed.  He simply liked to devote the time and attention to his cases, and some of the things that he did enjoy weren’t exactly things he’d call ‘hobbies’.

“This one doesn’t start for another half an hour,” she said, taking the bottle of water that he offered her before he sat down again.  “We don’t have to watch it if you don’t want to.  If you’d rather look for something that’s more interesting to you, that’s fine.”

He broke the seal on his bottle and took a long swallow, sinking down on the sofa once more.  “I don’t mind,” he told her.  Then, he made a face.  “Okay, I admit, I did mind that last one, but this one can’t be nearly as bad as that one, can it?”

She wrinkled her nose, but her eyes sparkled in amusement.  “Well, it could be,” she said, “but let’s hope it isn’t.  Do you really not have any hobbies?”

He shrugged.  “There are things I enjoy, sure, but I don’t think they really can be considered hobbies.”

She seemed to perk up at that.  “What kinds of things?”

He had the feeling that she was just waiting for him to mention something even remotely exciting, and he sighed.  “Just normal things . . . going for walks or reading a good book . . . I . . . I like wandering around museums and visiting historical places.”  He grimaced.  “Boring, right?”

“I wouldn’t call that boring,” she said, and she even sounded like she might mean it, not that he really gave that idea much credence.  Her world was so vastly different from his, wasn’t it?  “Doesn’t sound like a bad way to pass some time.  Granted, I haven’t had much time lately to sit and read a magazine, let alone an actual book.  Sometimes, I think my life is a little too complicated.  You know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

“What’s that?” he asked, unsure exactly what he expected her to say.

She giggled.  “I’ve always wanted to go explore the ancient Mayan ruins . . . Does that sound weird, coming from me?”

He blinked and shook his head.  “Really?  That sounds interesting . . .”

She rolled her eyes.  “You totally think that’s a weird thing, don’t you?  I told Evan about it once, and he just laughed and thought I was kidding.  I’m really not, though . . . I’ve often wondered if the Mayans were youkai . . . They just kind of seemed like maybe they were.”

“Because they were into human sacrifices?”

She shrugged.  “I guess it’s possible that humans have been like that before.  It always just struck me as a more youkai way of life.”

Mikio chuckled.  “We’re not really that bloodthirsty . . .”

Madison snorted.  “Are you kidding?  You think I haven’t seen your family’s idea of recreation?  Sparring in the back yard?  And I’ve heard about your father, tearing up people’s yards with that insane sword of his, too.”

“Okay, yeah, Papa does get a little carried away sometimes with Tetsusaiga.”

She gave one curt nod since she’d effectively made her point.  “So, one of these days, we’ll go, right?  To see the Mayan ruins?”

Mikio glanced at her, only to blink and look at her again.  Eyes bright, cheeks flushed, she really did look like she was excited by the idea, and even as he considered it, the flash of vision, of her, poking around those ancient ruins?  It didn’t seem nearly as farfetched as it had when she’d first mentioned it.  “One day,” he allowed, even as a small voice whispered to him that she’d forget all about it in a week or two . . . maybe a month, tops.

Even so, she seemed entirely pleased by his vague promise.  He just wasn’t sure why.

Madi son awoke with a start, struggling in that sleep-addled confusion for a few moments as she rubbed her eyes and rather vaguely tried to figure out, just what had disturbed her.

‘Mikio . . .?’

Pushing herself up, she blinked, frowned into the shades of night that clung to the bedroom.  The clock read 2:47, and she bit her lip.

He wasn’t in the room, but she could still feel the lingering youki, which meant that he hadn’t gotten up long ago, and, sure, he could easily have gone to the bathroom, but somehow, she didn’t think that was right, either, and why did she feel just a little uneasy . . .?

‘You sense his turmoil, don’t you?  That’s why . . .’

Pushing the blankets aside, she slipped off the bed, the length of Mikio’s dress shirt that she’d claimed to use as a nightshirt, falling down to mid-thigh.  Her feet didn’t make a sound as she followed the dim light of the hallway.  She could sense him near, but couldn’t see him.  Somewhere nearby, though, his soft little groan came to her, and she hurried a little faster, rounding the corner onto the staircase that led to the living room below.

She stopped halfway down, hand resting on the bannister, when she spotted him, sitting on a chair that faced away from her, slumped over, head in his hands as he rubbed his temples.  Before she could get moving once more, his hand shot out, grabbing a small trashcan that she hadn’t seen, and he barely managed to get it to his face before he retched and vomited.

She grimaced, hating the sense of alarm that flashed to life in her head, and she darted down the stairs and over to him, carefully pulling his hair back, even as his entire body seemed to stiffen, as his youki contracted around him.  “Are you—?” She cut herself off and quickly shook her head.  “Of course, you’re not okay.  What can I do for you?”

He spit a few times, his breathing was ragged, and he dropped the can onto the floor with a heavy thump.  “I’m . . . fine,” he rasped out.  “Go . . . Go back to bed, Madison.”

“I’ll get you some water,” she said, hesitantly stepping away to go to the kitchen, completely ignoring his command.

He sighed, but didn’t argue with her.

It only took a minute for her to stride back into the living room again.  This time, he was collapsed back, head resting on the top of the chair, eyes closed.  His skin was ashen, almost jaundiced-looking, and that was worrisome enough to make her wonder if she shouldn’t get him to a doctor as she yanked the cap off of the bottle with a deft twist.  “Here,” she said gently, slipping the bottle into his hand.  “You need to see a doctor . . . Should I call an ambulance?  Or maybe—”

“It’s . . . It’s fine,” he insisted, sitting up with some effort, tipping the bottle to his lips, only to swish it around and spit into the trash can.  “I’ll be all right in a little while.”

Madison shook her head.  “What about your brother?  It’s late, but—”

“I said I’m fine,” Mikio growled, but his fierce demeanor was ruined a moment later when he winced and rinsed his mouth once more.

Madison stared at him, unsure how to react when she’d never actually seen Mikio, quite this agitated—or this out of sorts, overall.  Biting her lip, she crossed her arms over her stomach, but retained her silence for a moment.

Mikio spit out the mouthful of water, then wiped his mouth with the back of a slightly shaking hand, and he sighed.  “I didn’t mean to . . . to snap at you,” he said, his voice returning to his normal, quiet pitch.  “There’s nothing Kichiro-nii can do.  It’ll pass.”

Her frown deepened.  “You sound like this has happened before.”

He didn’t reply for several seconds.  She was starting to think he wasn’t going to when he finally sighed.  “I’ve . . . I’ve always had trouble with my balance,” he admitted, sounding somehow weary and just a little angry, too.  “Sometimes, I just get nauseous for no good reason.  That’s all.”

She digested that, nodding slowly.  She’d heard others mention Mikio’s balance issues, of course.  Evan had said as much before.  At the time, she supposed she hadn’t really thought too much of it, or maybe she simply didn’t realize, just how bad it was for him.

Without a word, she strode over and picked up the trash can.  Luckily, there was a liner in it, so cleaning it up wasn’t going to be a problem, but she was half-afraid that if she left it much longer, the stench of it could possibly make him feel ill all over again.

She tied it up and bagged it a few times before dropping it in the trash chute in the kitchen.  Then, she washed the can out and replaced the bag before washing her hands and dampening a wash cloth with cool water.

By the time she returned to the living room, Mikio’s color was a little closer to normal, and, for a moment, she thought that he might have drifted off.

“You didn’t have to do that, but thanks,” he said without opening his eyes.

“Don’t be silly,” she told him, gently laying the cool cloth on his forehead.  “Do you need anything?  Tylenol or something?”

He sighed and tugged the cloth down over his eyes.  “No . . . I think the worst of it has passed.”

Slipping into the chair beside his, she bit her lip.  “How often is it as bad as it was tonight?”

“I don’t know . . . Often enough, I guess,” he replied.  “Uh . . . Sorry you had to see that . . .”

“Stop apologizing,” she insisted, her tone taking on a sharper edge than she intended.  “I wish there were something I could do for you.”

He didn’t respond to that.  After a minute, he slowly sat up, pulling the cloth off his face as he finally opened his eyes and shot her a hesitant glance, almost like he was embarrassed about the whole thing.  She started to speak, to tell him that he had nothing at all to be embarrassed about, but he was faster, pushing himself to his feet with a grimace.  “I’m going to go brush my teeth,” he told her in that same apologetic tone.  “Why don’t you just go back to bed?  I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

She watched him shuffle off, taking the stairs at a painfully slow pace.

‘He . . . He really hates it,’ she thought as he disappeared around the corner, midway up the steps.

‘You sound surprised by that.  Do you think he wouldn’t?’

She sighed, leaning slightly, rubbing her temple with a propped hand.  ‘I think he shouldn’t,’ she corrected.  ‘Everyone has their limitations.’

‘It’s a little bit more than a limitation, Mads.’

Okay, so there was some truth to that.  What bothered her most was her own inability to do anything—to say anything—that might make him feel better about it.

‘But maybe he doesn’t want you to do that.  Besides, if you fuss about it too much, you might well end up, hurting his pride.’

Hurting his pride?  That seemed so ridiculous.  After all, it wasn’t like he could control such a thing.  Still, there was some truth in it, wasn’t there?  And the last thing she wanted to do was to add to his acute embarrassment—misplaced, though it may be.

Drawing a deep breath, Madison stood up and headed for the stairs, too.  No, she supposed, the best thing she could do—maybe the only thing she could do—would be to let it go since that seemed to be what he wanted.