Samurai Deeper Kyo Fan Fiction ❯ Wicked Ground ❯ Into the Den ( Chapter 2 )

Yuya stepped out of the warm air of the plastic coffee shop and into the chilly autumn climate. She pulled her windbreaker on, zipping it up, and then ventured, “You say that he hears voices?”

“I say he claims to hear voices,” Kyoshiro murmured, shrugging into his suit jacket. “Come, I’ll walk you home.”

Yuya let him take her arm in his, but the old longing that used to flare up at his touch remained dormant. “Is Kyo a liar or is he just trying to receive a “Get out of Jail Free” card and not doing so well?”

“I’d say the latter,” Kyoshiro sighed. “He’s always had a flair for dramatics. If he’s upset, he claims he suicidal. If he’s been drinking, he claims he’s damn near maxed out the bar. That sort of thing. He over dramatizes everything.”

“He could possibly be eccentric,” Yuya suggested. “Maybe I should call in a psychologist to see him with me? They could help me greatly as far as determining if he’s the Real McCoy or just a fake.”

“Don’t worry, I already have a psychologist going in to meet him tomorrow. One-o-clock. You can accompany her, if you wish,” Kyoshiro intoned this glumly, as if there was something very unappealing about the idea.

“Who is she? Is she experienced?” Yuya asked curiously.

“Oh, she’s experienced,” Kyoshiro said with a humorless smile. “She’s the best damn psych in all of Japan. Her name is Sakuya Mibu –my wife.”

…

Sakuya Mibu was plainer than Yuya had expected. She had long, thick black hair with a fringe of bangs filtering into her chocolaty eyes. She was unnaturally pale and wearing a gray dress suit that didn’t accent her coloring at all. She looked washed out and faded.

“Yuya Shiina?” she asked, not looking very impressed with what she saw.

“Yes,” Yuya said, feeling a flush rising to her cheeks. She was suddenly very aware of her flyaway blonde hair and her green, faded tee and blue jeans. She had a coffee in one hand, a paper bag in the other. “Yes, I am. You must be Sakuya Mibu.”

Sakuya gave only the barest of nods. “My husband had told me a great deal about you. Shall we?” she intoned. She glanced at the nurse who stood near the gate that led into the closed ward. She then nodded and the nurse dutifully pressed the little red button that caused the gate to slide open.

Yuya and Sakuya stepped into the cool air of the closed ward. “Kyo’s the only one here,” Sakuya murmured. “Everyone else is outside for activity time.”

True to her word, there was only one occupant of the white room. A man, dressed in white linen pants and a matching shirt lied on one of the white beds, his slay of crimson hair the only color in the room. His hair looked about shoulder length, cut raggedly and unevenly.

“I’ll let you, as the attorney, speak,” Sakuya murmured, breaking Yuya out of her trance. “I’ll simply observe.”

Yuya slowly stepped toward the unmoving man, her heart somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. “Mr. Mibu? Kyo?”

Kyo’s eyes flashed open, displaying cranberry orbs that were so startlingly enraged that Yuya, for a moment, thought she was looking at a demon. Kyo sat up, eyes never leaving Yuya. “Miss Shiina, I’m guessing?” his gaze roved past her, expression becoming ugly as he sneered. “Ah, Sakuya. It’s a…pleasure.”

Sakuya forced a smile that looked almost as painful as her words sounded. “Yes, Kyo. A pleasure.”

Kyo’s eyes turned back to Yuya, his crooked smile widening. “Miss Shiina, I hear you will be my lawyer. Tell me, how many people did you have to sleep with in order to get your current profession?”

Yuya’s expression of calm surety wilted. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kyo grinned wickedly. “I mean, who did you have to put out for? Your law professor? The mayor? Who? I know just by looking at you that you didn’t pass the bar exam with just your intellect.” He began to laugh, cold and calculating, before adding, “Shall I expect you to show up to my trial in a faded “Jay’s Burgers” tee and holey blue jeans? Or maybe a corset and fishnets with a crop? Maybe you can give my judge some favors and get me out of this hell-hole.”

Yuya was mortified, but she struggled to keep her anger and disgust down. “Mr. Mibu,” she began slowly, but Kyo cut her off.

“Sit down!” He snapped, his humor fading and becoming suddenly irate. “Quit crowding me. Jesus, I’d think you were my mother if you weren’t twenty pounds malnourished.”

Yuya took a deep breath, sitting down in the stationary plastic chair that was nailed to the floor. “I brought some coffee and food,” she offered, handing him the styrofoam cup. He took it, for once not making a raucous comment. Yuya, feeling a false sense of triumph, reached into he bag and took out her bottle of water. She then handed him the bag.

He inspected the contents of the bag –a pack of donuts, some fish pancakes (a traditional Japanese breakfast), and a candy bar with strange cartoon characters scrawled on the wrapper. Kyo looked up at her, an eyebrow raised. “Why did you bring me food! Is it poisoned? Are you trying to get me to confess!” He yelped, red eyes becoming angered. There was an undercurrent of helpless paranoia in his intense gaze.

“Shhh, Kyo, please,” Yuya began softly, but Kyo only became more anxious.

“Don’t call me that!” He yelled, throwing the steaming cup of coffee against the wall. The cup crumpled and hot liquid sprayed across the wall and floor. Kyo’s wild eyes turned on Sakuya. “This is all your doing, you witch!” He yelled. “Black magic! Voodoo! You’re possessing her!”

Yuya was too stunned to move, and Kyo soon turned his anger back to her. “And you! Trying to act like my friend! Calling me by me name, as if we’re on first name basis! As if you know me!”

The nurse’s station door opened and a petite, dark haired woman scurried toward them. “Mr. Mibu,” she murmured soothingly, “please be calm.” She took his arm, trying to lead him to the bed.

Kyo jerked away from her seeking hands, glaring. “Keep your damned hands off of me, woman!” He then turned back to Yuya. “Just because all of your money, good looks and kind gestures make some men piss themselves in gratitude, that doesn’t mean I will, too.”

Yuya felt her blush, which she had kept tamed for the entire five minutes of their visiting period, flood her face. This man had joshed, poked fun at, and downright ridiculed her. He had done more harm to her in five minutes than all the men in her life had done put together.

“Kyo,” Sakuya murmured, finally intervening. Her notepad had been scribbled on sufficiently in what looked to be Sanskrit, but was actually shorthand, and her pen was tucked behind an ear. “Kyo, be calm. I fear Miss Shiina will be intimidated if you continue your foolish dominance games.”

“I’m not intimidated,” Yuya argued, willing her cheeks to lighten from beat red to slightly tanned. “I will have you know, though, that I am the best lawyer in this district, Kyo Mibu. If you piss me off, I can make it so that you never get a decent lawyer.” She uncapped her bottle of water nonchalantly, taking a sip, eyes never leaving Kyo.

“Are you threatening me?” Kyo asked, eyes narrowing.

“No,” Yuya said tranquilly, standing. “I’m telling you what will happen if you don’t cut the crap.” She turned her back to him. “I’ll be back tomorrow once you’ve cooled off.”

She strode purposefully out of the ward, Sakuya following her. When they were safely out of the cold, white world of the insane asylum, Yuya turned to Sakuya. “Well?”

“I’ll call you sometime tomorrow with my verdict,” Sakuya murmured. “All I can really say now is that there is a cerebral malfunction going on somewhere.”

Yuya sighed. “So it is possible that Kyo is honest-to-God hearing voices?”

“At this point, I don’t think so,” Sakuya alleged with a sigh. “His brain might be misfiring, there could be some damage to neurons or synapses, who knows? I think he knows something is wrong, but can’t figure out what. So, like he’s seen on TV, he blames it all on voices.

“He used to be normal… well, semi-normal,” Sakuya continued. “He displayed a wide range of emotional function. But now, as you saw, he switches between three emotions –anger, paranoia, and humor –without any external factors. He gets angry for no reason, or happy…”

Yuya nodded, brow furrowed in concentration. “I see… call me when you think of anything else. Kyoshiro has my number.” She waved a good-bye before dodging cars to get across the street to her imported Sebring.

Sakuya’s eyes narrowed. She had her suspicions when Kyoshiro wouldn’t stop talking about this young woman. And when she met the leggy, pretty blonde Sakuya’s worries had grown. But now she knew that there was something more than friendly business going on between her husband and this attorney. They were on first name basis, for one, and Kyo had her number…

Sakuya took out her cell phone, dialing Kyoshiro’s office. His secretary, Maso, answered the phone. “Maso, this is Sakuya. Tell my husband I want him home. We have something to discuss.”