Rating: R Pairing: lots. Subaru/Kamui and Yuzuriha/Kusanagi in this part The characters in this piece do not belong to me WARNING: yaoi (male/male situations). Don't read if it's not your cup of tea. Also people behaving out-of-character and Point-of-view writing by Yours Truly
The Case of the Missing Shinken
Chapter II
by Beth
Mokona Street turned out to be one of those upper-class neighborhoods that make you go green with envy, especially if you don't have the money to pay the rent on both your office and your flat. Sure, might not look like much to a gaijin -- just some single-family houses with garages -- but for Tokyo, this was the height of decadence.
Slightly spoiled right now by the police cars in front of number 411. The place was swarming with the boys in blue and I decided it was a lost cause to simply look for my petite client. I settled for a more direct course of action and walked into the courtyard, pushing past several prime examples of law-enforcing beef. Big as oxen and twice as dumb was my usual experience.
Uh-oh. Once I passed the outer ring of lawgivers, I saw the one big-as-ox member of the Tokyo Police force that also happened to possess more than two brain cells. A lot more.
"Good morning, Detective Shiyuu," I nodded politely. I tried to sneak a look at the notebook he was holding.
"Sumeragi."
Apart from this word, my only answer from was a glare. I was about to attempt something a bit more like civilized conversation, but was interrupted by something appearing in the doorway.
Correction. Someone. A fine-built, black-haired, violet-eyed someone that made me feel I should have spent more time working off tension with my mortal-enemy-slash-lover.
When I finished drooling, I realized that Kamui seemed different than he had just a few hours before in my office. The elfin face was motionless, and the amethyst eyes looked dull, with no trace of the spell-binding desperate fire I remembered so well.
"Sumeragi-san..." he said finally.
"I'm sorry I took so long," I apologized. "There were some unforeseen circumstances." Yeah, like one tall, dark-haired, one-eyed and half-drunk circumstance that was currently sleeping on my couch. "I came here as soon as possible."
"You hired him?" Kusanagi asked.
"Yes..."
Kamui walked down the stairs slowly, concentrating on each movement, and I couldn't help but be reminded of a wounded though still regal leopard that gathered his last strength but did not let his stride falter. On the last step, he stumbled and fell.
The next three seconds or so were a bit of a blur, but I ended up kneeling on the ground, supporting the boy. I heard Kusanagi shout for someone to fetch a glass of water. I looked down on my violet-eyed burden and saw familiar desperation in the amethyst orbs.
"Promise me you'll help me," he whispered fervently. "Promise me you'll find the shinken!"
I felt as if the whole world was holding its collective breath. "I promise."
I felt him press a card into my hand, but before I could ask him what it was, I was interrupted by a very characteristic voice -- excuse me, screech.
"Kusa-saan! You wanted water??" Junior Detective Yuzuriha Nekoi, youngest member of the Tokyo Police and thrice winner of the "Most annoyingly cheerful person in Tokyo" contest, bounced out of the door, holding a glass.
She gasped and was by us in one jump that I felt sure had defied at least three major laws of physics. "Kamui-chan!" she wailed. "You should be more careful!"
"Kamui-*chan*?" I asked while my client drank the water and I slid the card into my pocket. "You know each other that well?"
Yuzuriha blushed. "Oh, he's my age, and he's sooo nice, and he doesn't mind at all-"
I felt a glare digging into my back and sure enough, Kusanagi was there.
"Shirou-san is understandably distraught," he said. "I think we should listen to his legal guardian and let him rest right now."
"Legal guardian?" I asked. Then I realized that if Kamui was Yuzuriha's age, that meant about two months short of sixteen. Damn, was I turning into a paedophile?
I was quite proud of the way I carefully avoided the thought of the age difference between me and Seishirou, and how old *I* had been when we first met.
"That would be me." That voice was deep and sweet as honey, but still sent a shiver of premonition down my spine.
Yet another figure emerged from the house. This guy was about my height, but younger -- not even twenty if you ask me. Which no-one did, but Kusanagi *did* become the most supremely apologetic since the day Seishirou threatened to cut off his head and several other appendages if he ever arrested me again. Kamui, on the other hand, stiffened and freed himself from my arms, the blank look back on his sweet face.
"My name is Fuuma Monou," the newcomer said. He walked down the stairs and helped Kamui up.
"Subaru Sumeragi," I introduced myself. A gut feeling made me withhold the usual "Sumeragi Investigations, Tokyo branch". Besides, didn't I hear the name before?
"Charmed," he said, then turned to Kusanagi. "If you don't mind, I'll take my ward to my house. I'm afraid all this excitement isn't good for him."
"Yes, of course," the detective muttered. "I'll call you if there's any more questions to answer."
"I would prefer not. After all this unfortunate business... Kamui-kun isn't as strong as he used to be."
Well, mister, then you'd better not be planning to do what it looks like from the way you're touching him...
"Goodbye, officer."
Fuuma turned and steered Kamui through the crowd of uniformed policemen to a waiting limo. You could have heard a pin drop, if one had been handy.
"Gee, that guy's *scary*!" Yuzuriha said once the car drove off. "I mean, talk about calm! His own *sister* died just two months ago, and we never did find all the pieces..."
"Pieces?" I asked.
"Yeah, she and the saleswoman were all chopped up into bits! And now the murder weapon's been stolen, and it's all-"
"Nekoi!" Kusanagi snapped.
"Yes, Kusa-chan?" she trilled.
"We need to finish with the crime scene. You," he glared at me again, "out."
I didn't even attempt to smile angelically; last time I managed to pull it off had been when I was sixteen. Instead, I decided to disappear from view.
Leaving the courtyard of the house, I bumped into a familiar figure that was likewise fleeing the scene. Great, first my favorite policeman and now my favorite newsman.
"So sorry, Sumeragi-san!" Aoki laughed. "I guess I should look where I'm going!"
I was tempted to agree, but instead I said: "So what scoop brings the star reporter of Daily Tokyo to this boring neighborhood?"
"Oh, can't tell, secret really, gotta go!"
Well, there goes the airhead. Joy oh joy. Oh no, he was coming back.
Fortunately I was not the man's target. Instead he caught the hand of someone standing behind me, a white-haired boy I haven't seen before.
"I'm going to get some information from private sources, so you stay here!" Aoki admonitioned the kid. "I know you were told to learn from me, but I really can't spare the time now. Meet me back in the office at two."
"Yes sir," the boy muttered, but the reporter had already left. "Damn, and I wanted to learn more about this case - there's four bodies already!"
I sympathized with the kid -- for all his gentle air, Seiichiro Aoki went through life with the force of a steamroller. Couldn't have been easy to be his apprentice. Not to mention the fact the young one looked rather cute, in a fluffy snow-bunny kind of way.
I guess he noticed my staring, because he spoke to me next. "Oh, hello, I'm Yukito Tsukishiro, um, junior reporter for Daily Tokyo..."
"Subaru Sumeragi," I introduced myself.
I could spot an opportunity to obtain further information that would result in my spending more time with the gorgeous Ka- excuse me, in figuring out a way to find Kamui's shinken. That's it.
"Care for lunch?" I offered.
Up until now I thought my sister, when alive, had the highest capacity for food possible. Or maybe Yuzuriha, when faced with ice cream. But Yukito -- Yuki-kun, as he offered that I call him -- would have them both beaten by the time the hors d'ouevres were done with.
I watched with morbid fascination as he packed away three sub sandwiches, one after the other. Finally I managed to remember the point of this outing.
"What case were you working on with Aoki-san anyway?" I asked.
"Dreadful stuff," he shrugged. "But very interesting! You see, two maidservants were murdered in that house for apparently no reason. Nekoi-san said nothing was missing."
"Fascinating," I muttered. Well, it was. I've never heard anyone call an antique sword 'nothing'.
"And the way they were killed -- someone had apparently thrust some sort of blunt object through their hearts! Horrid!"
I froze. Through their hearts?
I could feel the sickening smell of spilt blood again, as fresh as it had been seven years ago, when I had stood under my and my best friend's favorite tree in our favorite park. When I rushed there to meet him and tell him the Mafia - or rather one specific Mafia clan - informed my grandmother she would be punished for refusing to withhold several investigations. I remember trying hard not to cry at the thought that she told me to come back to Kyoto, for gods knew how long.
Soon enough those tears had flown freely.
My sister had got there before me.
"Are you alright, Sumeragi-san?" Yukito asked, concern written all over his face.
"Of course," I managed to nod. "It *is* horrible."
We said goodbyes then, and I headed to my car. Once inside, I started shaking all over.
A hand through the heart. The way the most skilled assassins of the Tokyo Mafia killed their victims.
Hell, it wasn't like that was my first clue this would be a tough case, right?
I fumbled in my pocket for the card Kamui had slipped me. It turned out to be a slip of paper containing a single name and two addresses, one of an apartment and the other of an architect's office.
I decided to pay Mr Keiichi Segawa a visit. I had more and more questions, and no answers.
~To Be Continued~