Samurai Deeper Kyo Fan Fiction ❯ Wicked Ground ❯ Insanity Calls ( Chapter 1 )

The warm bathwater had taken an edge of chilliness and the peace-scented bubble bath had long since dissolved by the time Shiina Yuya’s phone began to ring. Startled out of her languid, half-drunken stupor, Yuya grudgingly pulled herself from the large ivory basin. Her feet made wet slaps across the cobbled, stone floor of her penthouse; though the hallway, into the living room she went, all the while pulling on her terrycloth robe. She grabbed for her shrilly-ringing cordless phone, which had been lying haphazardly on the couch. The lit-up display showed a name that Yuya was shocked, but pleased, to see.

She clicked the on button and placed the apparatus to her ear. “It’s about time you got around to calling me, you jackass,” she said teasingly.

The soft, knowledgeable voice that Yuya hadn’t heard in quite a while murmured, “Yuya, I’m sorry to call so late… It’s important, though. What do you say to meeting me for coffee?”

Yuya glanced at the clock. 11:34 pm. She direly needed sleep, of which she was severely lacking, and the wine she had been drinking would impair her driving. It would be foolish to go out this late. “Okay, coffee’s good,” she said softly. “How about the diner near me? I’ll be walking.”

“Dina’s Diner? All right, that’s fine. I’ll see you in a bit.”

…

Mibu Kyoshiro, dressed in a slightly rumpled suit, sans tie, sat at a boot with a cup of coffee in hand. The plastic, green booth covering squelched as Yuya’s jean-covered legs slid into the seat across from him. “Hey,” she greeted simply, running a hand through her half-damp, ash blond hair.

“Hey,” was his jaded response. His eyes roved over her, noting how thin she had gotten. Too thin. The way her green t-shirt fell, Kyoshiro could make out the outline of her ribs pressing against skin. “How’ve you been?”

Yuya nodded, as if to say ‘good,’ but Kyoshiro wasn’t fooled. She looked tired and like she was wasting away slowly. Somehow, though, she still had that air of childish, carefree beauty.

“I’ve been okay,” she was saying. I won my last case, so it can’t be too bad,” she said with a humorless laugh.

“I know… that you won your case, I mean,” he added. “I’ve been keeping up with you via the newspaper.”

Yuya found that a bit unsettling. She and Kyoshiro had had an explosive love affair, one that neither one would change, but it had been just that. An affair. Kyoshiro was close to ten years her senior and married. They’d been intimate, yes, but there hadn’t been any of the emotional complications of most relationships. So why, exactly, was Kyoshiro practically stalking her via headlines?

It was, all in all, very unusual.

“I actually asked you to meet me here for a reason,” Kyoshiro continued, running a hand through his black hair. Blue eyes regarded Yuya coolly, as if measuring his words based on her.

“What is it?” Yuya murmured. The waitress brought a cup for Yuya, pouring some coffee for her. She topped off Kyoshiro’s cup before making her slow retreat.

“It’s my younger brother,” Kyoshiro sighed.

Yuya sipped her lukewarm coffee, which tasted more like flavored mud than anything else. She made a face, put her cup down, and softly said, “You mean Kyo? I think you’ve told me about him… he’s my age, right?”

“Five years older than you –twenty-seven,” was Kyoshiro’s guarded response. “He was in a bar fight. He was drunk and some lush started hitting on his date. Kyo lost it. He started wailing on the guy, but the guy pulled out a knife. Now, Kyo’s a rash guy, but he’s not stupid. He knew there was no way he could face a man while he was barehanded and nearly wasted. Plus, his opponent had a knife the size of my arm.”

“Jesus wept!” Yuya exclaimed. The term ‘knife’ conjured an image of a Swiss Army model, not something that could be up to a foot long. “Where was the guy hiding that thing?”

“Spine sheath,” Kyoshiro grimaced. “In any event, Kyo grabbed a vodka bottle and tried to attack the guy with that. To Kyo’s amazing luck, the guy was so drunk that he wasn’t able to aim for any vital organs… but the guy wasn’t so lucky. He’s in the hospital… with a coma.”

Yuya was shocked yet again. “Coma? From a vodka bottle?”

Now it was Kyoshiro’s turn to look confused. “What? No, no, from a barstool. Once Kyo realized the bottle wouldn’t work, he grabbed a barstool and took it to the guy’s head.”

Yuya cursed softly under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m thankful I met you instead of your brother. If it was the other way around, I’d probably be in a casket right now.”

“To Kyo’s defense,” Kyoshiro began, a faint smile on his lips, “he may enjoy a fight now and then, but he’d never harm a woman. But, I’m getting away from the topic. Yuya, I need you to become his defense attorney. He needs a damn good lawyer and you’re the best in Tokyo. I heard Oski, the man’s sister, saying something about calling you tomorrow morning about the case. I wanted to get to you before she did.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered, in the long run,” Yuya said with a small grin. “I’m a defense attorney, not prosecuting. I couldn’t take her offer even if she did call me.” She took another mouthful of foul coffee, grimacing. “I’ll do it, of course,” she added. “Where’s your brother being held? I’ll go see him tomorrow.”

“The nuthouse,” was Kyoshiro’s soft reply. He then noticed that Yuya was grinning, thinking that he was kidding. “No, I’m serious. They have him in the mental penitentiary.”

“What? Why?” Yuya lost her smile, now looking classically mystified. “You aren’t sent there for beating up some drunken fool who comes onto your date!”

Kyoshiro’s eyes were mercilessly cold as he said, “Kyo’s pled insanity… He says he’s hearing voices.”