InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 3: Forever ❯ Guilt By Association ( Chapter 27 )

~~Chapter 27~~

~Guilt by Association~

 

“I'm telling you, I didn't do it!”

 

Detective Keitaro shook his head slowly as he drummed his fingertips on the table. “Then answer my question: what were you doing in that alley?”

 

Ryomaru glowered at the middle-aged man as he tried not to look belligerent despite his desire to beat some sense into the stubborn human. “I told you. I saved her from the guys that attacked her.”

 

“Right, and that's how you got beat up, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you just happened to be carrying an illegal sword.”

 

“It's legal,” Ryomaru grumbled.

 

“The registration says it is a showpiece only, yet there were traces of blood on the blade. How did that get there?”

 

“Was I supposed to let them kill her? They raped her, they beat her, they damn near killed her---”

 

“You had a cell phone in your pocket. Why didn't you call the police?”

 

“I didn't have time,” he growled. “I don't think they were planning on waiting.” Ryomaru stifled a sigh and dragged a tired hand over his face, wincing at the dried blood on his fingers. `Damn, this don't look good at all . . .'

 

The detective took his time reading over the notes he'd jotted down on a yellow legal tablet. “And you said there were three of these guys? The attackers?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Which way did they run?”

 

“What?”

 

Detective Keitaro pinned Ryomaru with a pointed stare. “If what you say is true, then you should have seen which way they ran, right? There was no one else in that alley but you and the victim, so . . . ?”

 

“I need to make a phone call.”

 

“We're in the middle of questioning you.”

 

Ryomaru nodded impatiently. “Yeah, I know, and I need to make a phone call.”

 

The detective didn't look like he was going to agree. A knock on the door kept him from answering. Casting Ryomaru another suspicious glare, he got up slowly and strode to answer.

 

`Fine mess, Ryo . . . Sesshoumaru is gonna blow an ass gasket . . .'

 

He sat back in the cold metal chair and hissed as his back protested the pressure, but welcomed the cold. Detective Keitaro glanced back at him. Ryomaru flicked the ears hidden under his concealment spell and tried to listen in as the man turned to mutter to the intruder. “I can handle this guy . . . he's lying through his teeth.”

 

“Let me take care of him. I don't think he's lying.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

The unseen man sighed. “Forensics came back on the rape kit. It wasn't him, and there were three separate samples of DNA on the victim: two hair and one semen. None of them matched this guy.”

 

Detective Keitaro snorted. “And the sword? He hasn't answered about that sword yet.”

 

“His uncle's here. Says the kid picked it up and was taking it home. Everything checks out.”

 

“And how do you know his uncle isn't lying?”

 

There was a significant pause, as though the one detective was trying to decide what he needed to tell Keitaro. “His uncle is Inutaisho Sesshoumaru, and he's pissed as hell that the kid's face has been all over the news.”

 

“Damn . . .”

 

“Yeah. Now let me take care of it, all right?”

 

“. . . All right.”

 

With one last glance back at Ryomaru, who was gritting his teeth and clenching his fists at being referred to as `kid', Detective Keitaro brushed past the unseen man. The new detective stepped into the room and closed the door quietly as Ryomaru stifled a growl, as he glowered at the man---the crane youkai.

 

“You're the hunter. I'm Detective Akenozawa.”

 

Ryomaru didn't respond. He wanted to leave. He wanted to get out of the station, and damn it he wanted his sword back.

 

“I'm sorry for the miscommunication. The men were just doing their job.”

 

“I'm sure,” Ryomaru remarked tightly. “Can I go now?”

 

“In a minute. Your uncle tells me that you weren't supposed to stick around after you handled the problem.”

 

“Was I supposed to leave her there?” Ryomaru countered, leaning forward contentiously.

 

“If you'd have thought about it, you'd have realized that surely someone had reported the ruckus you created. As you saw for yourself, the police had already been dispatched there. You should have done what you were told to do.”

 

Ryomaru shot to his feet and stalked the concrete floor was he shot Akenozawa withering glances. “I didn't have time to think about shit! All I knew was that she was dying. I could smell death on her. Don't you get it?”

 

“You're lucky I was on duty,” Akenozawa remarked mildly. “I managed to send the rape kit to one of our doctors . . . otherwise there would have been a lot more explaining to do.”

 

“I'm sorry it wasn't more convenient for you,” Ryomaru sneered. “Next time I save someone, I'll make damn sure not to be so much trouble.”

 

Detective Akenozawa shook his head. “Your uncle is waiting to see you. He doesn't appear to be in a very good mood.”

 

Ryomaru snorted. “When does he ever appear to be in a good mood?” he grumbled under his breath as Akenozawa left again. Dropping into the chair with a heavy sigh, Ryomaru leaned forward, hands dangling between his knees as he glowered at the doorway.

 

Sesshoumaru didn't speak as he strode into the room. Slowly and deliberately, he closed the door and swept over to the table, laying Ryoteishuseishu between them as he kept his icy gaze on his nephew.

 

Ryomaru rubbed his forehead and waited for the gauntlet to fall.

 

“Over time I've come to expect idiotic behavior from your father,” Sesshoumaru finally said in a dry, even tone. “In fact, it is one of the few things I can count on. You, Ryomaru, should have known better.”

 

Opening his mouth to argue his case, Ryomaru was cut off before he could speak when Sesshoumaru lifted a hand and shook his head.

 

“Has your mother's compassion tainted your ability to think?”

 

“Leave her out of this,” Ryomaru growled as he stood up to pace the floor again. “There wasn't time to think, damn it! There wasn't time for shit!”

 

“And what would you have done, Ryomaru? Would you have taken the woman to the hospital? Would you have put her out of her misery? Do you think she will thank you for your interference?”

 

Eyes widening incredulously before narrowing in abject distain, Ryomaru glared at Sesshoumaru as he slowly shook his head. “What the hell do you mean?”

 

“I mean that the woman you `saved' was raped, beaten, terrorized. The human spirit is a fragile thing. Perhaps next time you'll think twice before you disobey direct orders.”

 

“Are you done lecturing me?”

 

Sesshoumaru sighed. “Ryomaru, do you know what you've done? Do you have any idea how close you came to exposing us all?”

 

“If you're waiting for me to apologize for staying with that woman, then you'll be waiting a long fucking time,” Ryomaru growled. “No one deserved what she got. If I exposed every single youkai in existence, then so be it, but she wasn't going to die alone.”

 

Sesshoumaru stared at him for several moments. Ryomaru couldn't read his expression but he didn't look away, either. The tension in the air was a viable entity, surrounding the youkai and hanyou. Sesshoumaru finally nodded once before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. Ryomaru grabbed his sword and followed.

 

He almost expected the police officers to descend on him as he stomped out of the building in the wake of his uncle. Though he did garner a good deal of questioning looks, no one tried to stop him. Outside on the stone steps, he stared around at the haze-filled sky, at the bare sprinkling of stars that permeated the perpetual smog over Tokyo.

 

Sesshoumaru stopped suddenly and whipped around to face him, his expression just as inscrutable, his eyes just as cold. “I got rid of the reporters. They should be airing their reports now, that it was all a mistake.”

 

“Thanks,” Ryomaru forced himself to say though he didn't sound grateful in the least.

 

“You aren't going home.”

 

It wasn't a question. Ryomaru blinked in surprise. He hadn't really given it much thought, but no, he didn't suppose he was. There was something else he had to do first, something he had to check before he could even try to forget the altercations. “No, I'm not.”

 

Sesshoumaru pursed his lips and shook his head but held out his hand. “Give me the sword. You can't take it with you.”

 

Ryomaru's grip tightened on the weapon just for a moment before he handed it over. Sesshoumaru took it and descended the stairs, ducking into the spotless white sedan without a backward glance.

 

Ryomaru watched as the car pulled away from the curb, stood still until it disappeared around the block headed toward the Inutaisho mansion. With a sigh, he started walking. His back throbbed, his head pounded, and he felt wearier than he had in a very long time.

 

Nezumi's face flashed before his eyes, and in the soft darkness of the Tokyo night, he smiled wanly. `Promises to keep,' he thought as he quickened his pace. `Let me do this, Nezumi . . . then I'll come home . . .'

 

 

-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-

 

 

The minutes ticked away so slowly that Nezumi felt like screaming as she forced her eyes away again, staring instead at the black night outside the sliding glass doors.

 

`Almost midnight.'

 

Her anger had long since passed, frustration and shock that she'd see him on television accused of horrible things. Alternating between irritation with him that he hadn't told her what he was going to do and rage that anyone would ever think that someone like Ryomaru could be capable of doing something so despicable had somehow faded into a deeper melancholy, a nagging worry, a quiet sense of yearning.

 

Where was he?

 

She knew from the news reports that Ryomaru had been released after being cleared of all charges. Kagura had called just after to say that Ryomaru needed to take care of something but that he'd be right home. That was almost three hours ago.

 

The kitten in her lap mewled and stretched. Nezumi leaned against the back of the sofa, eyes glazed over as she stared at the darkness.

 

`What's going on? What hasn't he told me? Aside from the fact that he's hanyou, he's always told me things, right? What could possibly be bigger than that?'

 

It seemed like forever since he'd walked out the door. It seemed like a different time and place. The familiarity seemed real and yet oddly fake, stilted. Had so much changed in so short a time? Had anything really changed at all?

 

The door closed softly, and Nezumi sat up, dumping the kitten off her lap as she clamored to her feet. She could see the glow of Ryomaru's gaze, shining like beacons in the darkened foyer. Everything she'd planned on saying seemed to die before it reached her lips---the demands to know what had happened, the need to understand what he never said . . . She couldn't give them voice, and with a soft gasp, she stumbled back as Ryomaru stepped into the wan circle of light from the table lamp. Face dirty and smudged, rust colored splatters all over his white shirt, his hands clean but shaking, and he looked tired, so tired . . .

 

“Nez, you need to lock the door when I'm not home,” he said quietly, breaking the silence at last, eyes glittering in a suspicious way.

 

She swallowed hard, shaking her head slowly as she stared at the stains on his shirt. “Ryo . . . is . . . that . . .?”

 

He sighed. “Let me take a shower first, okay?”

 

“Okay,” she agreed without taking her eyes off his shirt.

 

He nodded and headed back toward his bedroom but stopped in the hallway. “Lock the door, Nez.”

 

“. . . Okay.”

 

She did as she was told, leaning her shoulder on the heavy steel door as she turned the deadbolt with a click. The metal was cool to the touch, and she let her forehead fall against it.

 

`The stains on his shirt . . . that color . . .'

 

Nezumi closed her eyes, concentrated on the cold against her skin.

 

The voice in her head whispered to her, urged her not to think, not to remember. `You don't need to know, Nezumi . . . don't ask questions because you might get answers . . .'

 

The memory of another time, another place, another day rushed through her mind. Time seemed to move yet stood still as the shrill blast of sirens split the air. That crimson color, that rusty tinge . . . a smear of something that was best left in the past . . .

 

A soft whimper rose in her throat, spilled out of her before she could stifle it, before she could smother it with her knuckles against her lips. A little blue sundress with the same burgundy stains . . .

 

`Blood, Nez . . . blood . . . Ryo . . . he . . .'

 

The cry that escaped her was caught between a growl and a sob. Fear wrapped in irrational anger spurred on by hours of waiting and worrying, wondering and wishing culminated in an emotion that overpowered all else. Something snapped inside her head, the barrier between common sense and illogical reaction. Before she could stop herself, she shoved away from the door, strode down the hallway, threw open his bedroom door with her outstretched hand, didn't stop till she'd slammed into the bathroom.

 

Ryomaru whipped around, soaked to the skin, rivulets of soap washing slowly down his body. She didn't see him, didn't see anything. With a choked sob, she stared in horror at the pink-tinged water washing down the drain.

 

“No, no, no, no, no!” she screamed, unable to look away from the splattering water. “Damn you, Ryo! What have you done?”

 

He didn't answer her. She didn't see him move, didn't hear his muttered curses as he strode to her, as he grasped her arms and shook her gently, enough to draw her attention as she finally met his gaze. “I'm sorry . . . I didn't think . . . I should have gone to Mother's and cleaned up first . . . It's all right, Nez . . . It's all right.”

 

“B-blood,” she rasped out as she let him hug her, let him hold her. “Blood, and the television, and---”

 

“I'm a hunter, Nez. I hunt youkai that hurt humans . . . Youkai that threaten humans. I should have told you. I just . . . I didn't want to scare you.”

 

Nezumi closed her eyes, smashed her hand over her mouth as she slowly shook her head. “All that blood . . . It's . . . it's not yours . . . ?”

 

“No . . . no, it's not mine.”

 

She wasn't sure how to deal with the conflicting emotions that warred in her. Relief upon fear mingled with the spectrum of feelings. As though every single thought that had run through her mind in the last few hours were converging on her at once, she couldn't stop herself as the first sob broke free. Loving Ryomaru for the instant crush of his arms around her, despising herself for the absolute inability to control her raging sentiments, all she could do was lean against him, let him whisper words meant to soothe her that she couldn't hear.

 

He picked her up, sat on the toilet and held her, curved his body around her as though he was trying to shelter her, and oddly, she remembered Kagome's words. “My son's spent a lifetime protecting you, you know . . .” Those words made her cry harder.

 

The warm mist of the still-running shower cut through the confusion in her mind, and Nezumi sniffled as her sobs wound down to hiccups. The embarrassment she felt when her mind started to process again was lessened only by the rough texture of the towel that he'd obviously grabbed when she'd burst into his bathroom. She started to sit up. He held her tight. “I'm okay now,” she muttered though the sniffle and hiccup that followed in close succession belied her claim.

 

“I've got to tell you this,” he said gently but firmly.

 

“Ryo . . .”

 

He shook his head. “I was sent to hunt down three neko-youkai.”

 

“Hunt them? You . . . you kill them?”

 

“I have to. These youkai I hunt don't give a damn about anyone or anything. They go after humans because they're bigger, stronger . . . because they can. Do you see? Can you understand?”

 

“They could hurt you . . . they could kill you? Why you? Why not send someone else?”

 

“Because I'm damn good at what I do, Nez.”

 

“But why you?”

 

“I'm trained. I like my job.”

 

She tried to get up again. He held onto her. “Let go.”

 

“Not until you listen to me.”

 

“Okay, I get it,” she argued as she tried to pry his hands apart. “You like fighting.”

 

“No . . . My old man spent a lifetime fighting to protect the things he cared about. My old man fought to protect my mother and his friends. You want me to dishonor him by refusing to do the same?”

 

“No, but . . . I don't know.”

 

This time he let her go when she tried to get up. She shuffled to the door and stopped, unable to look back at him, unable to see him in the same way that she had only hours before. Was it only hours? It felt like a lifetime . . . “I used to think that I knew you. I thought . . . I don't know what I thought. I'm going to bed. Maybe you'll make sense to me in the morning.”

 

Nezumi trudged out of the bathroom. She didn't see him wince, and she didn't catch him dash his hand across his eyes as she walked away.

 

 

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A/N:

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Final Thought from Nezumi:

…What … ?

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Forever): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~