Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction ❯ Silk Gloves ❯ But I Can't Tell You ( Chapter 8 )

Lack of sleep, lack of sanity, lack of excitement…and to top it all off, I don't own WHR.

~^~

The scene of the WacDonalds at noon on a Thursday was, to say the least, hairy. As Karasuma dodged a girl that looked like she was in seventh grade, she spotted Kenshio sitting with what looked suspiciously like a chocolate shake and fries. This was confirmed when Karasuma slid into the bench across from the spy. Personally, Karasuma wasn't fond of WacDonalds, something about it just rubbed her the wrong way. She would have thought that Kenshio felt much the same way about the fast food joint, and had to struggle to keep a straight face as the woman delicately dipped a French fry into the shake and ate it. It seemed very out of character for Kenshio. Though, she thought, she had never really known Kenshio's character very well. This could be normal.

“It is loud, but that is part of why it is good,” Kenshio stated without warning. “And if someone wonders, we can say that our children are here.”

Karasuma nodded and folded her hands around each other, wishing she had some sort of drink to nurse. Wacdonalds didn't carry the kind of drink she really wanted, though, and Kenshio was speaking.

“We call them hunts,” she said, “simply because that is the best word for them. Also because if anyone from SOLOMON hears us speaking of them, they will hopefully assume that we are talking about their witch-killings.” She selected a fry and ate it, without dipping it in the shake.

Karasuma felt a little tinge of disbelief at seeing her co-worker with a limp fry in her mouth, but quickly pushed it aside to ask, “How do you do it? If I'm going to be part of this, I need to know, don't I?”

Kenshio's eyes narrowed to focus on the table directly in front of her. She spoke with great concentration, each word seeming to be carefully chosen and crafted within a sentence. It was if the woman were trying to say as little possible while still answering the question to Karasuma's satisfaction. “It is a technique that was discovered by accident. The power that witches have is connected. When he uses his craft, he awakens their power through their fear. Once we see a manifestation of the craft, we use this technique.”

Karasuma resisted the urge to take Kenshio by the shoulders and shake her when she took another french-fry and slowly ate it. Kenshio had very obviously not wanted her in on this, and was going to take her time in saying everything; she would have to be patient.

After the fry, she continued. “It is…complicated, but the core of it is using the control of your power to help them control theirs. It requires skin contact and the knowledge of what you are doing, but it is mostly instinctual.”

“So,” Karasuma said, slightly disbelieving, “You just touch them and their power comes under control?”

“No. You must touch them with the intent of helping their control and you must have your own store of control. It does not work to simply reach out and touch them.” She sighed, looking at the rest of her meal with a frown. “You will learn without difficulty once you see me and experience it yourself.” She took a small card out of her pocket with an address on it. “We meet here before every hunt. Memorize that and burn it. I will never tell you the location of hunts before we meet; the less you know the better.”

Karasuma nodded and took the card, glancing at it before shoving it in her pocket. “There's something I don't understand.” Kenshio just looked at her, as if giving her permission to continue. For the first time in nearly five years, Karasuma actually felt nineteen. The older woman's way of dealing with her always seemed to have a hint of condescension. It made her feel uncomfortably young. Still, she needed to work with this woman, and to do that, she couldn't let herself give in to the superiority complex that Kenshio seemed to have. “If it's so simple, then why did Arimato go mad like he did? What went wrong?”

Kenshio's face snapped from cool curiosity to a frown. When she answered, her voice was clipped and some-what angry. “That was a culmination of many things. The first was a simple misbalance of power. The ones that can use this technique must not only have control, but must have a lot of power to keep under control. It is simple enough to understand; if you control a small amount of power, and the other person a large amount, your control will do little to help them. You may bring the power to be less dangerous, but it will still be more power than either of you is accustomed to, and will break free.” She frowned deeper. “He was also taught to hate witches. It may not seem to make a difference, but it does. He would not let me near him to help, and then he would not let me into his mind; choosing instead to drown in his own sorrows and fears.”

Karasuma mulled over this for a moment, and then said, “How many? How many have you lost?”

Kenshio closed her eyes and spoke as if from a list within her mind. “Only two others have been lost to the initial loss of control. Thirteen have lost control later; going mad with the power.” Her face soured angrily. “They were often hunted unwittingly by the STN-J, though I suspect one killed herself. Twenty have gone missing and were not hunted by the STN-J. More than seventy are still living in Tokyo normally.”

“Seventy!” Karasuma half whispered; floored.

Kenshio nodded. “Seventy. All living normal lives, helping each other when they need it. There is a network set up; a support group for them when they need help with training or control.”

“A coven.” Karasuma said softly.

“You could call it that; but do not. SOLOMON would become suspicious if they ever heard you.”

Karasuma took a deep breath; trying to incorporate all of the information she had just been given. It didn't seem possible. More than seventy witches, living normally and happily; in Tokyo, no less! But how had Kenshio done it? She had only been in Japan for three months now, and she had awakened a total of over a hundred witches! She counted in her mind; three months, about thirty days to a month, that was more than one a night. When she figured in the time it had taken to track and train Single-Eye, it was at least two every day. Was that even possible? “How?” she asked aloud, “Do you do more than one hunt a night?”

Kenshio shrugged. “Barring problems, each hunt takes an hour or so. We can do as many as four.”

It still didn't seem possible, but the math worked out. Still, with at least two weeks off in the beginning, possibly more, it just didn't seem right. Kenshio, apparently thinking the conversation over, stood, wrapping her fries in the wrapper of a sandwich that Karasuma hadn't seen. Suddenly, a solution occurred to her, as crazy as it seemed.

“Wait.” She said as Kenshio turned. The woman turned back around and regarded her coolly. “Are you acting alone?” Karasuma asked.

Kenshio looked at her for what seemed like forever before replying “No, I have him, and now you, with me.”

Karasuma struggled to rephrase the question so that the spy couldn't dance around it. “I mean, is this part of something outside of Japan? Something…bigger?”

“I don't know what you mean,” Kenshio said, still straight-faced.

“Are you acting alone, or is there an…organization that is helping direct you? It's just, you've done so much in so little time, and the information must have come…”

Kenshio didn't let her finish, cutting her off with, “Why do you want to know?”

Karasuma thought back to the factory, listening to Toudo about Robin. She was the hope of witches, named for the king of witches. They had never found her or Amon's body in the wreckage. She was reluctant to be specific though, in the event that she was wrong, or heard something that she didn't want to. “I thought I might know…”

“No.” Kenshio cut her off again, “There is no organization. I am acting alone.”

Karasuma found herself feeling half disappointed. But what would she have done if Kenshio had not been acting alone? If Robin was alive, she didn't want to know about it; it would be a danger to both of them. Still, after Single-Eye had known about her complete betrayal of Zaizen and Amon's promise, and then Kenshio's incredibly fast organization and action, she was beginning to suspect that the young witch and perhaps even her ward had survived the collapse after all. “Oh,” was all she could manage.

Kenshio gave her a severe look, “I should not have to say this, but I will; tell no one of this. Especially your partner.”

Karasuma was taken aback. It did not surprise her that Kenshio had told her to keep silent, any sane person would do that, but that she had singled out Sakaki… “I won't, but why didn't you tell him as well?” The question was on her lips before she really had thought about it. It was an obvious question; Sakaki was her equal in hunting, at least, and only a step below her in craft power, possibly an equal after the lifting of the Orbo's influence. So why had she chosen to ignore him?

Kenshio answered with a heavy hint of disdain. “I do not trust him.”

“And you trust me?” Karasuma didn't think that the woman trusted her at all, a feeling that was, for the most part, mutual.

“No,” Kenshio said, affirming her suspicions, “but he has given me no reason to think that he would be sympathetic to our cause.”

“I don't understand,” Karasuma said, “I don't remember either of us doing anything that would redeem or damn us.”

The replacement sat again, saying, “When you hunted Arimato, you said that you did not want to shoot him, and you tried to speak to him before doing anything else. But your partner shot him first.”

“He was protecting me,” Karasuma said, “I don't see how that proves his guilt.”

Kenshio shrugged, “It shows his willingness to kill. It is proof enough for me.”

Karasuma was beginning to see what Single-Eye had been up against when he had convinced Kenshio to include her. “You tried to tell me that I had shot him with that same ease. Why didn't that damn me as well?”

Kenshio frowned. “I told you, you specifically said that you didn't want to shoot him.”

“And? He agreed with me.”

“It doesn't matter, anyway,” Kenshio said with a glare, obviously wanting to drop the subject, “I was bluffing to make you angry, angry people are easier to manipulate to the truth.”

Karasuma sighed, seeing that it was fruitless. She had tried, anyway. Kenshio rose, mouth set in a hard line as if she felt she had spoken too much. Karasuma had one more question though, “What would you have done…if I had said no? If I had sworn to secrecy, but didn't want to get involved?”

Kenshio looked over her shoulder at the younger woman, mouth still set, and eyes as cold as ever. Karasuma had to resist a shiver as she said, “I probably would have killed you anyway. You are a good fighter, but I would have won in the end.” Without another word, Kenshio turned and walked away, easily disappearing into the crowd of teenagers happily munching on fries and soft drinks. Karasuma stared after her for a moment, not seeing too much, and then got up to get ready, trying not to think about Kenshio's words. She would be hunting a little differently that night.

~^~

A week later, Karasuma had burned the paper that the meeting place had been on. She had memorized it thoroughly, having participated in five hunts since that day at WacDonalds. She rather suspected that Kenshio and Single-Eye had carried on without her some nights; continuing to awaken people and usher them into the coven.

It really was a coven, she mused as she leaned against a light pole. The awakened witches, as well as some that had awakened on their own, used each other for power and support. New traveled fast between networks; word that Kenshio had taken on another `hunter' had traveled to half the people before Karasuma herself had even participated in a hunt.

What amazed her most about it, besides how easily she had slipped into this double life, was Kenshio's ability to handle the job. She was the leader of every facet of witches on the island. Karasuma didn't know how she did it. From what little she could gather, Kenshio's phone number was given to all of the witches; and if an emergency came up, they could call her. If she was busy, which she often was, she would call someone else that she knew could handle it to go. It was rare that she was able to go herself, but Karasuma had been along with her once when she had.

The call had been very fast, Karasuma at first thought that it was Michael, but Kenshio was nodding…

 

“Yes. We will be there soon. Hold on, Ayuki.”

“Who was that?” Karasuma asked, confused.

Kenshio put the phone in her pocket and gave her a long look. Then the woman glanced at Single-Eye. “You. I have to take care of this, and you are not welcome.” Karasuma glanced at Single-Eye, who rolled his good eye and nodded.

“Of course, of course,” he said, and, glancing at Karasuma, said “you are taking her, though, right?”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Kenshio snapped, “She is part of this now, and needs to know the other aspects of this job.”

“I don't understand.” Karasuma said, “What's going on?”

Kenshio motioned for Karasuma to follow her, and they made their way to her car as she explained. “In emergency situations, they have my phone number. I do not like to leave them completely to themselves.”

Shocked, Karasuma climbed into the car without complaint. It was a short drive to their destination, and when they pulled up in front of a middle income house, there was a man waiting outside. He opened the gate, saying, “Thank you for coming; I was just so worried for her, she…”

“Hush,” Kenshio said gently, “Where is she?”

The man clamped his mouth shut and motioned for them to follow. The house was well decorated and homey, Karasuma felt a bit out of place with her gun and leather duster jacket. She rather thought Kenshio would look just as out of place, but in true spy form, she had somehow adapted to fit right in. The house was fairly peaceful, and Karasuma was about to ask why they were here when they walked into the kitchen. A woman dressed in nothing more than a sheet was curled up in the corner, her body tense as a coiled wire. She eyed the new comers with a certain degree of fear, and then shrunk back into the sheet. “No!” She said, voice muffled, “I don't want to hear any more!”

“Ayuki,” Kenshio said steadily, studying the situation, “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“We were…um…we were…,” He blushed and looked down, his hands clenched in front of him.

“Never mind explaining that in detail,” Kenshio said, “I think I see.” She sighed and walked out of the kitchen, grabbing Karasuma by the wrist. Ayuki stayed near the kitchen door, still blushing furiously and looking forlornly from the two women in his living room to his wife in the corner. When they were out of ear-shot, Kenshio turned and began to explain, Karasuma listening intently. “When they first awaken, they have mishaps, like anyone. Mostly they are small; they can be handled by those near by. Rumita is a very strong telepath, though.”

Karasuma nodded. The technique Kenshio used had the surprising side affect of actually knowing the exact nature and power of a person's craft. It was proving to be useful, and Karasuma could think of a dozen other ways it could be used. “So can't we just help her regain control?”

“No,” the older woman said, “That is only a last resort. Otherwise they are unable to help themselves. This entire operation rests on their ability to control and patrol themselves; they must be able to carry on without me.”

Karasuma stood, shocked, as Kenshio turned back to the kitchen. Kenshio's words drove home exactly how tentative her life was, and how disposable it seemed to be. A bloom of respect opened for the woman who was now kneeling before the telepath in the kitchen.

“Rumita,” Kenshio said softly, “Rumita, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” there was a quiet sob, “Yes, inside and out. And Ayuki, and the empath…”

Me, Karasuma realized, she can hear me?

“Yes I can, Karasuma Miho, I can hear you…” there was a squeak, “But I don't want to! Please, I just want to go back to ignorance!”

Karasuma's breath hitched, her heart bleeding for the other woman. She knew that feeling, knew it all too well. Kenshio did not respond, but said, “Rumita, listen to me. You can get control. Just block us out. Build your defenses up again. Try, now.”

Rumita's eyes closed slowly, and she breathed steadily. For just a moment, Karasuma thought she may have calmed enough to bring herself back, but then she opened her eyes again, whimpering. “I can't…” she whispered, “Gods, I can't, I'm so scared…there's so much…”

“Hush, Rumita, calm down. You can do this; your fear is only hindering you. Let go of it and try again.”

As Rumita tried to breathe again, Karasuma suddenly realized what was wrong with Kenshio's approach. If Rumita could hear them all, then she was working against all of their thoughts at once. That was three separate walls to build. Kenshio was making it harder than it really was, by forcing her to build one large wall, rather than three small but precise ones. When Rumita opened her eyes again, tears flowing, Karasuma stepped forward and touched Kenshio on the shoulder. “Let me try,” she said. Kenshio at first looked like she was going to refuse, but gave in and stood. Taking a breath, Karasuma knelt in front of Rumita and smiled.

“Rumita, I have a power a lot like yours,” she said quietly, and thought as hard as she could about her craft, trying to distract Rumita.

“Empath,” she murmured, “you touch things, and they speak to you.”

“Yes.” Karasuma said, “That's right. Focus on me, as hard as you can. Just listen to me, and you can start to build your walls again.”

“Listen to you?”

“Just let them fade away. I'll drown them out eventually, and then you can start to block me.”

Karasuma felt a shift in the psychic atmosphere, and knew that Rumita was listening to her. And so she gave her something to hear, shoving as much as she could think of at the telepath; her daily life, experiences with this new form of hunting, the people she worked with; as much as she could think of. Rumita ate it up, the thoughts falling into her and drowning out everything else. She didn't know how long it took, but Rumita's breathing became easier, and she slowed her thoughts to match. Another moment, and Rumita's eyes opened. They looked clearer than they had when Karasuma had seen them when she had started talking. A breath later, Rumita blinked and shifted in place.

“I…I'm doing it. I don't hear everything.”

Karasuma smiled. “Good. Will you be all right?”

There was a rustle, and Rumita stood up, offering a hand to Karasuma, who took it and rose with the other woman's help. “Yes…actually.” She looked almost surprised. “I was so scared, but concentrating on you made it easier.” She looked up at Karasuma again, face pitying. “You've got a lot on your mind.”

Karasuma resisted the urge to blush; not because there was anything she had particularly wanted to keep hidden, but because it was the first time she had actually let anyone really see everything that was on her mind. Recently, the only person that had seen even a portion of it was Sakaki.

“That thought was particularly prevalent,” Rumita commented airily, now smiling faintly. Kenshio and Ayuki looked from Rumita to Karasuma questioningly, but Rumita only shook her head enigmatically, and Karasuma frowned.

“We should go,” Kenshio said. Karasuma turned, wondering if using that particular method had been wise.

 

She still wondered that, along with wondering how much of the telepath's timing had been coincidental, and how much had really been commenting on the direction of her thoughts. She shifted against the light pole, frowning to herself. It still bothered her that she couldn't tell Sakaki exactly what she was doing with her nights nowadays. He had been on her mind lately; and much as she tried, he didn't seem to go away. After all they had been through; she was keeping this from him.

It wouldn't have been so bad, perhaps, if Kenshio had trusted her more. But the woman felt the need to monitor her; lurking in the backs of rooms when all she wanted to do was talk to Haruto about an investigation. The knowledge kept her on edge; and she knew he noticed. He hadn't said anything, though, something for which she was most grateful. She was a good actress, but as well as her partner knew her, he would probably see through any lie she crafted.

Heaving a sigh, she gently prodded her thoughts away from Haruto; looking around again for Kenshio and Single-Eye. A breeze drew chilled fingers against the back of her neck, and she smelled olives. Turning to face the breeze, she found Single-Eye behind her, Kenshio beside him. Kenshio nodded to her, and they set off walking without a word. Sometimes they walked to the hunt, sometimes they drove. It depended on where it was and how much risk Kenshio thought was involved.

Three blocks later, they stopped in front of a small home. Karasuma glanced over at Kenshio to make sure it was the right place. The woman nodded to her; face almost mischevious, “You will draw her out. Her name is Chiazaki Kaneme.”

Karasuma nearly asked if Kenshio was kidding before remembering who she was talking to. Kenshio did not joke, or if she did, Karasuma had yet to see it. And so, squaring her shoulders, she strode to the front door and knocked twice. A woman in her late twenties answered, peeking around the door and opening it the rest of the way when she saw Karasuma.

“Can I help you?” The question was quiet but firm.

“I'm sorry to bother you so late,” Karasuma said, making sure to sound apologetic, “But I just hit an animal, and this was the nearest house, and I was thinking that maybe it was a pet or something…”

“What kind?” The woman asked immediately. Karasuma felt a tinge of guilt for making the woman worry about a pet when she should have been worrying for herself, but silently promised that she would apologize later for the bluff.

“It's a dog; could you come take a look? If it isn't yours, maybe you could tell me who to talk to…”

Without seeming to have a second thought, the woman stepped outside. Karasuma was surprised at how easy it had seemed as she strode outside her gate with purpose, glancing to her right, and then her left. “Where?” she asked, looking around, “I don't see a car.”

“It's to your right,” Karasuma said from a few steps behind her, “I parked in the driveway, I hope you don't mind.”

“No, no, it's just…” She trailed off. Karasuma didn't bother to ask what the matter was. The woman had turned and walked to her right a bit, into the shadows of the driveway. The smell of olives drifted to her nose. Kenshio appeared beside her and took the woman's hand, dragging her further into the darkness, and Karasuma followed. Single-Eye was immersed in a starting contest with the woman. Her irises had narrowed to pinpoints; Karasuma could hear her breath coming in shallow gasps. She closed her eyes; but knew all too well how it went. Single-Eye's power took over a person's mind, temporarily forcing all manner of sanity from the mind. She hated to watch, it was bad enough that her craft let her feel the tangible fear that Single-Eye forced on people; she didn't have to see how it affected them, too.

There was a low thump, and Karasuma knew that Kaneme had fallen to the ground. There were very few people that actually stayed standing, she had found; most lost balance. At first, she had been surprised at how little noise was made. When she had asked, though, Single-Eye had explained that when he regained sanity, he had also learned to control the fear he wielded as a weapon. The man knew everything about fear; how much was enough to make someone uncomfortable, nervous, scream, and even too scared to utter a sound. It was only after he cut the fear off that anyone made noise.

Tension was building in the alley; the kind of psychic tension that was a prelude to the awakening itself. It was thick and smooth, like a slimy bubble. The pressure grew and grew; making it almost hard to breath. Finally, as Karasuma felt that she could reach out and slice the tension with only the force of her mind, it snapped.

This was the critical point; where everything happened. Single-Eye cut the connection his power had made with Kaneme, backing quickly away to give Kenshio and Karasuma room to work. Karasuma had opened her eyes with the release of pressure, and now saw the first manifestations of the craft. Above Kaneme's head, a flame flickered and danced, small and delicate. Karasuma knew it wouldn't stay that way for long though, and moved forward with Kenshio. Kenshio reached the woman first, leaning down to take Kaneme's bare hand in her's. She never got the chance to make contact though, forced to drop and roll as a lick of flame suddenly appeared near her eye. Suddenly, the entire alley erupted into an inferno.

Karasuma lost her breath, frozen to the spot in the fire. It eerily reminded her of those final moments in the factory, before she lost track of Robin and Amon in the debris. She didn't have time to contemplate it though, because she was suddenly yanked bodily to the cement, Kenshio's voice snarling “Get down! Do you want to be burnt?” Without waiting for an answer, she said, “I am not powerful enough for this; you have more raw power than I do; go.”

Karasuma stared for a moment. They had known from the start that Karasuma was more powerful; even though her craft did not manifest to give that impression. Still, hearing Kenshio admit it like that was almost disturbing. It also put her in the position of pulling this woman's power in, which in itself was frightening.

But she didn't have a choice. It was either that or let this woman go mad. She wasn't about to do that. Steeling herself, she began to crawl to the center of the inferno, hugging the ground as closely as she could. It was hot. She could smell burning leaves, fabric, and what she thought was a hint of flesh. Her stomach turning, she swallowed and went faster. Theoretically, Kaneme could burn herself with the force of her own craft. If the woman was doing that, Karasuma didn't want to know what would happen to her.

The fire spots in her eyes were making it hard to see, so she closed her eyes and began to reach blindly. Suddenly, she came into contact with a shoe. It was warm, but it didn't seem to be burnt, and she looked up.

Kaneme was curled into the fetal position against the wall, watching the fire dance with wide eyes. Karasuma watched, but the woman didn't blink, only staring in fascinated horror. Taking a breath, Karasuma drew even with Kaneme, and thrust out her hand to meet with the woman's bare cheek.

Since she knew what she was looking for, the connection was instantaneous. She felt the wave of power that was drowning Kaneme and anchored herself against it. The woman's craft was very powerful; nearly even with Karasuma's own. She was certain that if they had met before the Orbo had been lifted; she would not have been any help at all. Now, though, she closed her eyes and began the process of bringing the power under control. She took each wave of power into herself, until the waves subsided. It took what felt like forever, but finally, the storm calmed, and she opened her eyes to find the alley dark again. Kaneme blinked, a tear trickling across her soot-stained cheek. “You're…so that's why….”

Karasuma blinked in return, but found herself speechless. This woman had a craft almost exactly like Robin's. It might as well have been Robin's, except for Robin's power was nearly infinite. She shook her head, trying not to think of the young craft user as Kenshio walked up behind her, asking, “What do you mean, `so that's why?'”

Kaneme sat up and looked at Kenshio, a quiet grunt escaping her. “My brother told me about you,” she said, rubbing her face and frowning at her nearly black hands. She seemed unnaturally calm about the whole situation; most people had hundreds of questions. “He said you might come for me, too, since we're twins.”

Kenshio thought for a moment, and nodded, “Tame; I remember.”

“He melted a trashcan; the neighbors are still wondering what happened.”

Karasuma swallowed. Small world, she thought, that case is part of what got me into this.

“Did he tell you anything else?” Kenshio asked.

“He told me everything,” Kenshio frowned, and Kaneme suddenly looked frightened, “If he wasn't supposed to, I'm sorry, but I'm glad he told me. He said to trust you.” She looked at Karasuma thoughtfully, “Didn't mention you, though. And you're the one that helped me. Thank you.”

Karasuma looked away, muttering, “It was nothing.”

Kenshio spoke again, directing the attention away from Karasuma, who obviously didn't want it. “You understand that you will have to work with your powers to understand them, and learn to control them?”

Kaneme nodded, “Yes, I understand. I hear they have a section here in Tokyo that kills witches who get out of control; is that true?”

“Yes,” Kenshio said, but did not elaborate. Karasuma could not stop herself from wincing at the woman's words. Hearing it said so bluntly was almost like a slap. Kenshio didn't have her guilty conscience, and continued without batting an eye, “Which means that you must keep control as best you can. There are others in this neighborhood that will help you, and your brother will too. If there is an emergency, first call them. If they cannot help, they will call me.”

“But what if-“ Kaneme started, but she was cut off by a phone ringing. Karasuma felt cold hand draw itself down her back. That was her phone; and only Michael called this late at night. Looking at Kenshio, she took out the phone, saying, “Someone must have called the police.”

“Probably the neighbors.” Kaneme said acidly, “Honestly, any little thing will-“ Kenshio knelt beside the woman and placed a hand over her mouth as Karasuma answered.

“Karasuma.”

“Ms. Karasuma? Usually it takes you a minute at this hour.”

She cringed. Michael was right, it did usually take her a minute to wake up and answer; she hadn't thought of that. “I was up reading,” She said lamely, “What is it?”

“The police called again. Someone called in reporting strange lights and noises coming from a driveway.”

She sighed, it figured. “All right, I'll be right there, who have you called?”

“Haven't called Kenshio yet, already got a hold of Sakaki,.”

“All right,” Karasuma said, closing her eyes and mentally sighing at the thought of Sakaki. It would be hell explaining this one to him. “I'll call Kenshio.”

“Right,” and there was the click of Michael hanging up. Karasuma stared at the phone for a moment, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. Covering this would be hard. She wasn't sure she could do it. She was tired and jittery from calming Kaneme's power, her mind was still somewhat caught in the moment when the inferno had started; forcing her back to that night in the factory. Sakaki…

She turned, shoving the phone in her pocket ferociously and walking quickly to the street. As she passed Kenshio, she said, “We've got to go; Sakaki will be here soon.”

Kenshio shook her head, “No, I was here early last time. It is best if I continue the trend, and make him think that I live near here.”

We wouldn't have to keep crafting these lies if he knew, Karasuma thought to herself despairingly, I trust him more than I trust you, but I'm lying to him. Swallowing again, she nodded, “He knows where I live, though, I'll run and get my car.”

Kenshio nodded and turned to Kaneme. She said something, but Karasuma didn't hear, already running down the street to her car.

~^~

Sakaki was second to arrive at the address, he recognized Kenshio's car already there. Frowning, he climbed off his motorcycle. Karasuma had mentioned that Kenshio might have lived near by, so that explained her earliness. Still, she stood too easily when they had received a call about a potential witch in the area. When she saw him, she came to stand beside him, saying, “Whoever it is, they are gone.”

He frowned, “Already? How did they know we were here?”

The replacement shrugged; an action that seemed strange on her. “The driveway is scorched and warm; it is probably a violent craft. If the witch who caused it recovered, they probably would have moved on as soon as they could.”

Sakaki sighed. He had to admit it made sense; but something still didn't feel right. Maybe it was the assurance with which she spoke about it, when he felt like they knew so little. Even what they knew was barely stable, based on assumptions and shreds of fact.

“Where's Miho?” he mused to himself quietly.

It was not meant for Kenshio's ears, but she apparently heard it anyway, because she said, “She called me; but I believe she lives further into town than I do.”

“How long have you been here, anyway?” Sakaki asked, truly curious. She had mentioned the alley; which meant she had already seen it. That put her here at least five minutes before him, and he had been out the door exceptionally fast; having not been in bed.

“About seven minutes,” Kenshio said. “It only takes me eight minutes at this time of night to get from my apartment to this general area.”

“Oh,” Sakaki said, feeling cheated. It was like finding a piece of a puzzle that fit another piece, only to find that the pieces were from different puzzles. He kept thinking he had finally figured out some facet of the replacement, and then found that it belonged in one puzzle; when he had thought it was the opposite. He was about to ask if Kenshio had seen anything else when Karasuma's car pulled up beside them. She parked and got out, glancing at both of them and then at the surrounding area.

“Are they gone?” she said finally.

“Yes,” Kenshio replied.

Karasuma sighed, looking unsurprised. “We'd better have a look around to make sure.”

They made their way to the driveway, Kenshio leading. Sakaki looked around, very surprised. The cement, the fences on either side, everything was sooty, as if a child had blacked everything out with charcoal. Karasuma knelt on the cement, reaching down and scrying the drive. She paused for a moment, face drawn. She cringed once, and then opened her eyes again, breathing a little hard. Sakaki resisted the urge to go to her and ask if she was all right; he knew she was. Instead, he asked, “Anything?”

She glanced up at him, mouth set in a line, and shook her head. “Not much. It's basically the same as the one before,” except this time, I'm in it, she thought to herself.

“Nothing on the other person?”

Karasuma shifted, “No, nothing that I could see.”

Sakaki wasn't sure what he thought of this. From what she had told him, her powers had grown to the point that she could find almost anything, especially if it had happened recently. Maybe it was because there was so little, he thought to himself; and then sighed. For the last week she had been strange, on edge. He still wasn't sure what was wrong, but he was beginning to get worried. What was, perhaps, more worrisome, was that she hadn't said anything to him. It's probably something like that time of the month, he said firmly to himself, stop worrying.

“So what should we do?” Kenshio suddenly asked. Karasuma glanced at her, and then looked at Sakaki. He got the feeling that she barely saw him though; her eyes were focused elsewhere, as if she didn't want to look him in the eye.

“Kenshio, call Michael and update him, then go to the house that this driveway belongs to. Sakaki and I will go to the house that made the call,” she nodded to the house on the other side of the drive. Kenshio nodded militantly and turned, taking out her phone and walking a little away from them.

Karasuma turned and walked to the other home, not even glancing at him. Feeling rather like a dejected puppy, Sakaki followed behind her a few steps. Questions formed in his mind and died on his lips; not strong enough to brave the somewhat cold shoulder she had put up. Before he could force any words out, they had reached the house and Karasuma was knocking on the door.

An older woman opened the door, her face seeming to be permanently pressed into a sour look. She peered at Sakaki, then looked at Karasuma and said, “You'd better be the police about those ingrates next door.”

“Yes ma'am.” Sakaki said, “You called about a disturbance?”

The woman looked closer at him and frowned deeper. “You two look a little young to be the police. Let me see your badges.”

Sakaki glanced at Karasuma, who took out her badge without looking at him. Grudgingly, he held out his own for inspection. The woman finally nodded. “Never heard of that branch of the police, but all right, come in, and I'll tell you everything I saw so you can make a report.”

She turned to let them in, and Sakaki wondered what had been put in her tea to make her so crotchety. Something sour, for certain. As the woman began to speak, he readied himself for a long and tedious interview.

~^~

As they walked from the home, the woman shutting the door behind him, Sakaki mused that the interview had actually been…informative. That wasn't quite the words, but one part in had been particularly disturbing; when they had asked for descriptions. The woman had paused for a moment, and then said, “I couldn't see them very well, after I ran to my phone to call the police, I grabbed my baseball bat and sat in my room.” She shook her head, “That woman is dangerous, I'm telling you. Absolutely crazy. Her boyfriend is over almost every night, and I swear the brother of hers has been here every other day the past few weeks. I think they're plotting to kill me or something…”

Karasuma, looking somewhat pale, cut off her ramble, saying, “Did you catch a glimpse of anyone involved?”

The woman pursed her lips. “A few minutes before it all started, a woman knocked on the door. I keep track of these things, you see, if I'm sitting at the dinner table I see right at that yard.”

“Did you see what the woman looked like?”

There was a pause, and Sakaki realized that the woman was staring at Karasuma, who shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. Finally, she said, “I think she was about your height and build. Wearing shoes a lot like yours.” Frowning, she continued, “But she was wearing pants. The coat was similar, too…” She turned away as she said the last comment, almost as an after thought.

Sakaki had to very forcefully repress a sudden thrill of fear. The coat? That coat was fairly exclusive to the STN-J; and the only other woman currently in the STN-J was Kenshio. She was noticeably shorter than Miho, and had a stockier figure. There was no way the two could be mistaken for each other. So why did the woman describe someone based off of Karasuma, and then mention that the coat?

 

He had tried to catch Miho's eye to gauge her reaction, but it seemed that she hadn't heard the last comment. He was quiet as they met Kenshio again to report. Something was wrong; he simply couldn't deny it anymore. He needed to talk to Miho without Kenshio lurking in the corners. For the last week or so, she had refused to leave the two of them alone. He vaguely wondered what exactly she suspected; it was like she was chaperoning hormonal teenagers.

The sarcastic, funny part of his brain reminded him that they were teenagers, at least in physical age. He wasn't so sure about the hormonal part; as for himself, his libido remained perfectly intact. Still, they were more mature than to attack each other on a whim. He wouldn't want a meaningless fling anyway; though in his line of work, it was quite possibly the most intimate he would ever get with another person.

Shoving the depressing thoughts of his love life, or lack thereof, away, he attempted to listen closely to the conversation. It appeared that they were nearly finished, though, because Karasuma said, “I need to make a report, even though there was nothing.” She sighed, “I'll do it tonight; I'm not tired.”

Kenshio nodded, “Then are we finished here?”

“Yes, good night,” Karasuma said, the salutation to both of them as she turned back to her car. Sakaki stood for a moment with Kenshio. She looked at him and nodded, then turned to her own car. He waited until they were both gone before getting on his bike and heading for the office. If Miho was doing the report, this was the perfect time to talk to her. It looked as if Kenshio was headed home; she had driven in the opposite direction. If she did follow Miho to the office somehow, he'd make up an excuse, maybe something about talking to the other woman.

Either way, he had to talk to her.

~^~

The lights flicked on readily in the office when she stepped out of the elevator. Michael had left; she had called him, given him an update, and told him that she'd take care of the report that night. He had been only too happy to return to his apartment and go back to sleep.

Just outside the doors, she dropped her things, leaving them in a little pile that looked a lot how she felt. Disorganized, gloomy, and somewhat alone.

There was a distinct difference, though. Despite the sudden chaos in her life, Karasuma felt morally at peace. Mostly. All misgivings about being a hunter had suddenly been discarded; because she was no longer a true hunter. She had turned sides. The thought, when put in such stark terms made her heart race in fear. She knew the penalties for this kind of treason. SOLOMON would somehow find a way to declare her a witch and order her hunt. It would fall to someone who had been with the STN-J the longest after her…Sakaki.

Her fingers paused in the file cabinet that she had opened, her breath unexpectedly stilling.

Would he do that? Just the thought of them caught in a situation like that frightened her. An image of staring down the barrel of a gun, with Sakaki at the trigger rose in her mind…

No, no, it wouldn't come to that. They trusted each other too much for that. Still, the image lurked at the back of her mind as she sat down with the appropriate papers in hand, forcing her to double her efforts to concentrate.

It was in this way that she missed the elevator dinging, and the doors sliding open. But when she heard the quiet footsteps across the floor; she looked up, and nearly choked.

“H-haruto?”

A worried look flashed across his face before he forced a smile, putting a hand behind his head and scratching the back of his neck. “Thought you might like some company,” he said, and sat down next to her.

She caught herself staring at him, and looked away purposefully. Having the real Sakaki there made her thoughts of him pointing a gun at her more and less real at the same time. More real, because she could see his face with her own eyes; and less, because…because… because she felt at peace with him. “Company is nice,” she replied, “Though this report shouldn't take too long.”

They sat in silence for a while. She had to concentrate to keep her hands from shaking, and her mouth shut. The easiest way to keep her hand steady was to write; and so she went as fast as she could, barreling through the report in a fashion that she knew she would regret in the morning. Without looking up, she heard him shift, and braced herself.

“I'm surprised Kenshio isn't lurking in the shadows somewhere,” he said finally.

She smiled, letting out a low chuckle to disguise her relieved sigh. “So am I,” she said simply and truthfully, though she still did not look up at him. She was glad that he hadn't asked about her well-being; perhaps this wouldn't be so bad.

“Did she say anything to you when you gave her a ride last week?” he went on, “Seems like she's being stranger than usual.”

Her pen jerked slightly more than needed, leaving a larger line on one character in her sentence. Say anything? She said a lot; probably more than I heard her speak in the three months she was here before. She told me she was the accomplice, and that I was going to join. She told me that there was a coven, a coven, Haruto! Here in Tokyo, with over seventy witches living normally and happily, and that she was the leader of them all... And then she told me I couldn't breathe a word to you. She blinked. “No…I-I just dropped her off. She wasn't very talkative.”

She thought that he might make a sarcastic comment about whether she was ever talkative, but instead there was a somewhat frightening silence.

“Miho,” he said quietly, “look at me, please?”

For a moment, she stared numbly at her papers. She was scared to do as he asked, afraid that he would see that she was keeping something from him in her eyes. He isn't stupid, she realized, he knows something is wrong all ready. Then I'll just have to deny everything, she decided, and looked up to meet his eyes. “What is it?” She asked as steadily as she could; but even to her own ears her voice was quiet and tremulous.

“Are you all right?” He asked gently, leaning forward almost imperceptibly. “You've been acting a little strange yourself for awhile,” he paused, then asked, “Is it your craft?”

She had lost her voice, any walls that she had truly maintained against him rapidly deteriorating. “No,” she managed to choke out, “No, it isn't that. I just…” she took a steadying breath, trying to regain what composure she could. Perhaps if she hadn't known for certain that he would have joined the cause willingly, it would have been easier to lie. If they hadn't ever talked about their difficulties with being hunters after Robin, she possibly could have looked him in the eye and told him she was fine. Maybe if he hadn't taken care of her that night she was drunk, or laughed with her the next day, or eaten lunch and pretended they were normal human beings, she could act her part as a traitor and discard any personal feelings she shared with him and say that yes, it was her power, and she'd get over it.

But it had all happened. And she couldn't do it.

“…I need to go.” She abruptly rose and stuffed the paper in her desk, suddenly moving efficiently in her attempt to get out. He rose, reaching a hand out as if to grab her, but moved it back before making contact.

“Please, Miho, you can trust me,” he whispered, and in his voice she heard every feeling of sorrow, confusion, guilt and disjointedness mirrored as if from within herself.

She looked him in the eye, swallowed, and said sadly, “I do trust you, Haruto.”

They both heard the unspoken overtone to the statement. It hung in the office air as she stepped into the elevator, pausing only to grab her purse.

But I can't tell you.

~^~

It took a surprisingly short amount of time to reach her conclusion when she walked in her door. The ride home had been made with a careful attention to traffic laws, the fastidiousness of her driving keeping her mind off what she had left at Raven's Flat.

But as soon as she stepped into her apartment, she couldn't dodge it anymore. Instead of breaking down into tears, though; she found herself more calm then she had been all week. It was clear and final; she didn't have another choice. If she died for standing up and speaking, then so be it.

The phone rang only once, “Speak,” Kenshio's one-word greeting cut through the dark in her apartment like a laser.

Without preamble, she said firmly, “I'm not doing this without Haruto.”

~^~

No beta. Another one of the enjoyable chapter to write.