InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Shadows ( Chapter 45 )

"Anyway, we were wondering if you wouldn't mind, taking a trip out to Hackinack, Virginia to talk to Prentice Eastborn?  Bas and I have both been there, but he won't talk to us—just keeps spouting crap about 'whippersnappers' and 'young'uns' . . . Maybe you could get him to talk to you since you're . . . not."

Ben frowned as he stood at the window behind Gunnar's desk and stared outside at the late February skies.  It was snowing again—a fairly thick downfall—and the meteorologist on the news this morning had forecast at least a foot in and around the area throughout the day and into the night.

"Ben?  Are you listening?"

Ben shook himself and glanced over his shoulder at the young man, who was sitting back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, staring back at him with an inscrutable expression on his face.  "I'm sorry.  You were saying?"

Gunnar shook his head and heaved a melodramatic sigh as he propped his cheek on his thumb and his forehead on his index and middle fingers.  "If you tell me you were thinking about my sister's breasts, I think I'll throw up," he grumbled dryly.

Ben cleared his throat and turned back to the window once more.  "No, but, uh . . . They feel quite nice."

Gunnar sighed again.  "Disgusting—and I'll take your word for it.  Never, ever say it again, though."

"Well, strictly speaking, you brought it up."

Gunnar snorted.  "And I'm sorry that I did . . . So, I guess I should ask since I'm the only other person here . . . Is something bothering you, Ben?  And if you're having woman problems, then you can consider that to be a rhetorical question."

Uttering a half-hearted chuckle, he pushed away from the wall and strode around the desk, only to drop into one of the chairs facing the hanyou.  "Have you heard anything about the hunt near Fukuoka?"

Gunnar blinked at the abrupt change of subjects.  "Fukuoka?  You mean, the ones that were trying to lure out Ryomaru . . . No, I haven't.  I talked to tou-san last night, and he said that they're still waiting for Manami-san to check in."

Ben's frown darkened.  "How long has it been since the last time she has?"

Shaking his head, Gunnar waved a hand dismissively.  "Uh . . . Just a few days.  Nothing to worry about."

"Okay . . . Good."

"You know, right?  Yasha-jiijii and Ryomaru tested her in just about everything they could possibly test her on when she arrived in Japan before ojii-sama would agree to send her out on her own," Gunnar remarked, idly tapping his claws on the desktop.  "Given that he couldn't just ask MacDonnough about her skills, that is . . ."

Ben sighed.  "I just . . . I have a bad feeling about it; that's all."

"You mean, like a gut feeling?"

Ben grimaced, but nodded.  "Something like that."

Gunnar shook his head.  "She's good at this kind of thing," he reminded Ben. "Damn good at it . . . There's a reason that they called her The Assassin, you know?  No one in the general population knows her name—nothing about her.  She's quick, she's efficient, and she's able to disappear without leaving a trace behind."

"High words of praise coming from you."

Gunnar shrugged.  "Not if they're warranted.  She's done this for a century?  Two?  And she's very, very adept at it.  She doesn't need my recommendation."

"You don't understand," Ben persisted, shifting his gaze to the side, staring out the window in an entirely sidetracked kind of way.  "I grew up with her."

"And maybe that's clouding your judgment when it comes to her.  Ben—"

"I grew up with her, which means that my parents met her many times.  If either of them sees her . . ."

Gunnar's eyes flared, and he tilted his head slightly to the side.  "But she's the best chance we have, Ben—unless you're suggesting we send Ryomaru in, regardless of the dangers."

"Of course not," Ben growled, shooting to his feet and striding toward the door.  "That's not what I'm saying, at all."  He made a face.  "Just let me know when she checks in.  The sooner she's done and out of there, the better."

"Will do," Gunnar called after him.

That was his biggest concern, wasn't it?  That somehow, someway, the wrong person would spot Manami and realize just what was going on . . .

'Maybe not, Ben . . . I mean, they don't know that she's a hunter, so even if they do see her . . .'

'You're forgetting.  We're talking about chichiue, and he is suspicious of his own shadow these days, according to Kyouhei.'

'Yeah, and about him . . . How long has it been since we've heard from him, and how long before we start worrying on that front?'

Ben winced as he stepped into the elevator and waited for the doors to slip closed.  'He'll . . . He'll be fine.  Maybe he just hasn't had the opportunity to call yet, but he will.'

That was the problem, wasn't it?  Never in his life had he felt so useless, as though he'd been relegated to little more than a bystander while his brother and Manami put themselves directly into the path of danger . . .

'Worry about the things that we can do something about, and focus on that . . . Otherwise, you're going to drive yourself crazy . . .'

'Crazy, huh . . .?'  He dragged a weary hand over his face and punched the button for the first floor.  'Y-Yeah . . .'

Slipping down the alley of the eerily quiet city, he stuck to the shadows, the heels of his boots crackling like gunfire in his ears against the tired asphalt, echoing off the debilitated brick walls that stretched up above him, easily twenty stories on either side.  Slowing his gait, dropping to a squat, he breathed in deep, eyes scanning the darkness ahead—gradients of dark and darker as shadows hid within shadows, and in the distance, a stray dog howled.

'She's close,' he thought, biting the side of his lip as he cautiously stretched out his youki, probing, searching . . .

She'd passed through here not long ago—just another nameless face in the wash of nameless faces that comprised the city of Fukuoka.  It was simple to blend into the masses of them, wasn't it?  And that was the trick, too—disappearing in plain sight.

A business trip was his excuse.  Telling his father that he needed to check on a couple contracts that were still in negotiations had worked well enough.  Since Hidekea had nothing to do with the shipping company, he had no idea of the day-to-day operations, and, while the contracts were important, they weren't nearly as dire as Kyouhei had led his father to believe, particularly since the Muiras pretty well held a monopoly over most of the shipping lines that ported into or out of Fukuoka and most of the ports in and around the coast of Japan and beyond.  It was enough that Hidekea hadn't thought to question Kyouhei on his departure from the family compound, especially during the ongoing meetings held in secrecy and behind closed and guarded doors.

But he'd promised Ben, and that was something he could not—would not—go back on.  He’d smelled her once before, the night when Ben had been shot, but the light had been so marginal at that time that he never had gotten a good look at her face.  Even the vague memory of her scent, however, was enough to aide him in his search.

The rumble of cars passing the alley precluded his ability to listen, leaving him dependent upon his other senses, which was fine, even if a little annoying.  Moving a little faster, he slipped further into the darkness, eyes flicking from side to side, brushing aside the impatience that licked at him since he'd been trying to track her for the better portion of the night, well after the streets had emptied, as everyone breathed a sigh of relief at having avoided the serial killer they believed to be on the loose.

A sudden sound drew his attention, and as he whipped around, he stopped abruptly, eyes flaring for a split second as the glint of a very wicked-looking knife flashed under his nose.  "Who are you, and why are you following me?"

Outlined in the dark by a slightly lighter black, he couldn't see her face; could only make out the lithe body encased in skin-tight leggings and an equally tight shirt that looked more like a leotard than a fashion statement.  "Ben sent me," he said without giving her his name.

She took a deliberate step closer, the blade flashing once more.  "How do I know that?"

"You'll have to take my word for it," he muttered, hand flashing out, latching onto her wrist before plucking the knife out of her hand and stashing it into the inner breast pocket of his coat.  "It's not safe here," he growled, grasping her upper arm to hurry her deeper into the alley.

Satisfied that they were far enough from the point of contact, Kyouhei yanked on her arm, enough to throw her off balance as he grabbed her around the waist and leapt onto the building.  He stopped, let go of her, only to catch her wrist when she swung at him.  "I'm sorry for that," he said, releasing her hand as he stepped back.  "Ben's my brother," he admitted, but only after checking the area to make sure that they wouldn't be overheard or observed.

Her darkened gaze brightened at the sudden realization.  "So, you're Kyouhei-san."

He nodded.  "I don't have much time," he told her, glancing around again.  "Ben wants you to go home."

"Of course, he does," she agreed.  "I was hired to do a job.  I'll go home after I complete my assignment."

"I know you're fully capable," he responded, melting back into the darker shadows of small storage units on the roof, gesturing for her to follow him.  "Ben's worried that otou-san will catch wind of you: that he'll figure out who you are, and why you're here.  If he sees you, he'll know you—"

She nodded slowly, carefully.  He could tell from the resonance of her youki that she didn't fully believe or trust him, and he had the feeling that the only reason he was able to get her this far was because she had allowed him to do so.  "I'm good at my job," she said softly, her voice no less forceful for the diminished tone.  "Ben doesn't need to worry—and neither do you."

He made a face.  "It's not going to do any good," he replied.  "Even if you manage to acquire this target, they'll just reassign someone else—as they’ve already done a few times now—and when they figure out what's going on, they’ll know that Sesshoumaru-sama has caught wind of the plan . . . and then, they’re going to start trying to find out who has betrayed them."

"All of this has already been considered," she pointed out calmly.  "There are no better options.  Need I remind you that your people caused this?  Maybe, if it's war they want, they'd be better served to just come out and say it."

"I don't want a war," Kyouhei growled quietly.  "Nor does Ben nor anyone else on that side of it.  You should realize that we're trying to quell the situation before it sparks something far more terrible than you can imagine.  Now, please, listen to me.  Go home because your presence here is not going to go unnoticed."

The brightness in her gaze flashed, creating pinpoints of light.  There was no anger in her aura, but he could see it there, alight in her eyes as she deliberately took the step that separated them.  Her hand flashed out, neatly retrieving her knife from his inner pocket before she casually stepped away, flipping the blade over in her nimble fingers.  "Your people started this," she countered.  "Your people with their stubborn insistence that their way is better—with their intolerance and their bigotry.  I was hired to do a job, and I do not back down from my responsibilities.  You can trust me to do what I was asked to do or you can't.  It doesn't change the fact that I am not leaving here until my targets are silenced."

She turned and sauntered away, dropping off the side of the building without a second glance.

Kyouhei watched her go, scowling after her in the darkness.  He hadn't actually expected that she would simply stand down, but he'd promised Ben that he'd try to convince her.  Even so, there was a sense, wasn’t there?  That knowledge that something was coming . . .

The whispers had already started.  The upper echelons were already trying to figure out, just who had been sent in to hunt the killers.  They were on the third one who had taken up the twisted mantle.  They considered themselves to be martyrs for the cause, as sick and twisted as that was, but . . . But Ben was right, and Kyouhei knew it.  The longer she stayed, the more she hunted, the higher the chance that she would be discovered, and when she did?

The thing was, he could absolutely feel it, too.  There was something much bigger, much more sinister, far more ominous, lingering just out of the field of view, and the thing was, he knew . . . He had a feeling that when it came to pass, for good or for ill, no one was ever going to be the same again . . .

Charity stepped off the bottom step in the wide-open basement of the Bangor house and stopped with her hand on the newel post as her eyes lit on Ben and stuck.  Dressed in a pair of plain black hakama in the same modified design as her uncle and grandfather’s—she didn't even realize that he owned any—and nothing else, with his hair drawn up in a high ponytail, exposing the gray-blue crest, like three parallel claw marks, on the back of his neck, he was behind the Plexiglas wall, dodging the tennis balls that he'd set to launch at different angles and different elevations from the twenty machines set up near the far wall.  He'd told her before that that's what he used that room for, but she had thought that he was joking.  Obviously not.

He moved with incredible dexterity, able to sense and dodge well faster than should have been possible, given that he had the machines set on maximum velocity, as well as avoiding the myriad of balls that littered the floor.

In fact, the entire basement was one large gym, of sorts, with some weight equipment near the stairs, and even a heavy boxing punching bag, and over by the other end of the room were huge mats for sparring, she supposed, if the racks with various bokken was any real indication.  Nearby were dummies, obviously used for throwing practice, and she figured that the entire setup just might even impress InuYasha-oji-chan, who had converted his garage into a makeshift doujo where everyone had taken their lumps over the years during training.

The cycle ended, and Ben let out a deep breath, draping his hands on his hips for a moment before he started gathering the balls, tossing them back into the bin that fed the machines.

Pushing away from the newel post, Charity wandered over to help him.  He paused just long enough to smile at her, but it struck her that there was a certain darkness in his gaze that lingered.  "You've been down here awhile," she ventured, chucking four tennis balls in rapid succession before retrieving a few more.  "Trying to get something out of your system?"

"Something like that," he replied, sparing her a quick glance before resuming his clean up duty.  "Just . . . trying not to worry about Manami . . . about Kyouhei . . ." He sighed.  "About everything . . ."

She frowned since he'd told her as much already.  "You know that neither ojii-san nor Papa would ever have sent her in there if they weren't reasonably certain that she'd be okay," she pointed out gently.

Ben nodded.  "And she would do fine," he allowed, repeating the same argument he'd used before.  "But if she's seen . . ."

"You can't protect everyone, Ben, even if you want to, and Manami-san is good at her job—Isn't that what you said before?"

He sighed, his scowl darkening as he led the way around the Plexiglas partition and stopped to retrieve the watch that Charity had given him for Valentine's Day off the small table nearby—her threat of giving him a gift card was her joke.  "If chichiue sees her . . . or hahaue . . . They'd both know her . . ."

Charity shook her head.  "But they don't know that she's a hunter, and she's from Japan, right?  So, she'd have every reason to be there.  She could be just visiting, or maybe she just had the desire to go back, to see what's changed in the years she's been away . . ."

"They're far too suspicious to think anything other than what's directly before them, Cherry.  She'd no sooner go back for a random visit than I would, and they'd know that, too."

She reached out, turned his face with infinitely gentle fingers as she smiled, just for him, as she caressed his cheek.  "Have a little faith, Ben . . . Manami-san's strong, right?  So, just believe that everything will go according to plan."

He scowled at her, reaching up, his hand wrapping around her wrist, though he didn't push her away.  "That's easier said than done, you know," he murmured with a resigned sigh.  "I . . . I'll try . . ."