Sparrow in the Night by Inumaru_Rapture

Ichi

            The windshield wipers on the cruiser pumped madly as the rain cascaded down from the dark grey clouds overhead.  Officer Taisho sat in the driver’s seat, mindlessly watching hunched over people hurrying under their umbrellas through the seasonal downpour.  It was mid-spring, just past the blossoming of the cherry blossom trees.  Officer Taisho had gone with his ailing mother to visit them in Tokyo Central Park on his last day off.  That was near the end of their blossoming and just under a week ago.

            Currently, Officer Taisho’s week on duty was almost up.  He was keenly looking forward to the next 8 hours of his shift going by quickly and uneventfully.  Behind the moisture heavy clouds, the sun was beginning to set.  Twilight fell onto the busy intersection he was watching.  He glanced at his dash clock: 7:30.  He turned up the sound on the speakers.  They buzzed almost constantly as orders were passed over, other officers commented in, and some bantered back and forth with each other about this or that.  Officer Taisho normally kept their volume down to an almost indistinguishable volume.  His ears perked with the sound of his surname.

            “Officer Taisho, what is your position?” his commanding officer’s voice came over the speaker.  Officer Taisho reached over and picked up the microphone.

            “This is Taisho.  Position is Area 5, corner of First and Hashiki.”

            “Good, keep that position until further notice.”

            “Roger.”  Officer Taisho went back to staring out the window.  Normally, he would have a partner for even the lamest everyday routine procedures.  His last partner, however, was not coming back to the force anytime soon.  Officer Taisho shook his head to clear it of that particular memory.  Overall, were it not for the shortage of police officers right now, Officer Taisho would still be on leave after that incident.

            He sighed heavily, his hand twitching to the glove box where he used to keep cigarettes before he quit.  He gazed longingly at the glove box before tearing his eyes away and turning to watching the ever-constant stream of odd people as they hurried past.

            The lampposts around him flared, their incandescent light illuminating the white of his police car.  The light flickered across the thousands of water droplets streaming across his hood and windshield.  Maybe he should just turn off the windshield wipers and disappear behind the curtain of water.  It wouldn’t be hard.  Just a flick of the toggle, and they’d be off.  He’d be in relative silence.  Invisible to the rest of the world.  Alone within his own little cell of quiet.

            “Snap out of it,” he commanded himself aloud.  His eyes widened at the sound of his own voice.  He sighed again and refocused on the task at hand.

            Sometime later, the flow of people petered off.  There was no sign of any surplus of people heading for the karaoke bar, nor were there any increased sign of any kind of activity at all.  Officer Taisho glanced at the dash.  It was nearly 2 am.  One hour to go before the schedule change.  Before his time on duty was up.  Before he could return to his apartment and wallow in a bottle of his own self-pity.  Well, not self-pity per say.  More like, trying to forget.

            He glanced up from the clock.  He hadn’t seen anyone walk past in the last ten minutes, but a sudden movement had caught his attention.  Through the lightened rain, he saw a person holding the corner of the building for support.  They looked very wasted or high as they stumbled forward.  Officer Taisho was reaching for his hat when he noticed something odd.  The person’s right arm was hanging oddly at their side and they weren’t wearing a coat.

            He slammed his hat on his head and stepped from the vehicle.  The person stopped, turning to look towards him.  He approached calmly, but swiftly.  As he moved towards her across the street, she walked into the light of a lamppost.

            Officer Taisho’s mouth dropped open.  She was stained with blood across her face and down her neck.  The parts that had washed off indicated that the blood probably had covered her entire face, head, hair, and torso.  Her black hair was plastered to her face, which looked bruised and scraped.  Her shirt was in tatters, her lacy bra poking out from between the tears.  Her right arm hung loose by her side, as if dislocated.  The parts of her arms that weren’t open to the rain were stained in blood and mud.  She was shoeless and limping on what looked like a sprained ankle from the swollen and bruised appearance.

            Officer Taisho hadn’t even realize he had stopped moving towards her when she reached out her left hand to him.  Two of her fingers were splayed in different directions.  But he was not looking at that.  He had found her eyes amidst the blood and water and mud that covered her body.  Her wide chocolate eyes that sucked him into her soul.  He had never in his life seen so much horror and agony.  He stepped forward, his own hand reaching for her.  Her lips parted.

            “H…Help me,” she moaned in pain.  As she stepped forwards towards him again, her eyes rolled up into her head and her head lolled back.  She fell in slow motion forward, her foot dragging, hands askew as she fainted before him.

She fell hard onto her knees as Officer Taisho moved into action.  He caught her before her torso fell forward into the street.  He held her up while checking for a pulse.  Her pulse beat hard against his fingers as his other hand snatched the communication piece attached to his vest.

“This is Officer Taisho, single officer unit 67, requesting immediate medical attention at the corner of First and Hashiki.  I have a woman, aged 23-24, seriously wounded and unconscious.  There are multiple lacerations to her skin, dislocated arm, and a heavily bleeding wound.  Awaiting response.”  He released the mic and waited for a response, his hands searching for any more open wounds.

“Confirmed, Taisho.  Ambulance on route.  ETA 5 minutes.”  As the reply blazed in his ear, he followed a number of cuts and scrapes on her scalp, sides of the face, and neck.  They were small, like paper cuts, but deep enough to draw blood.  He moved to her dislocated shoulder and noticed a heavy staining of blood on her forearm.  He drew back the tatters of her shirt and felt his mouth drop open.  There, carved in 3 inch kanji into her flesh, was the word “Love.”

.           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .

            Officer Taisho stood beside a corner leading into the waiting room of Tokyo Main Hospital.  A tall, portly man was currently nodding as Officer Taisho briefed him on what happened.  His shift had officially ended over an hour ago, yet he was still at the hospital where the woman had been taken.  As the first person on scene, it was his duty to continue the supervision of the woman until an officer of higher stature took over.  Unfortunately, despite the severity of the event, that had been nearly two hours later when Officer Taisho had been at the hospital.  The hospital had offered Officer Taisho the showers to cleanse of the rain and blood from his skin.  He had had a spare pair of uniform pants and black t-shirt that he had been able to change into.  Therefore, clean, showered, and wearing an informal uniform, Officer Taisho had sat for almost an hour reading a magazine about how to renovate an old house into something hip and modern.

            Officer Taisho bowed, showing he was finished with his report.

            “Good work, Officer Taisho.  You are relieved from duty today.  We shall see you in three days.”

            “Thank you, sir,” Officer Taisho bowed again.  He turned and, picking up the bag with his soiled uniform in it, left the emergency room and headed for his cruiser.  He sank into the seat and heaved a large sigh.  His eyes ached with weariness.  His head was empty of any thought other than the need to get home, park, and find his way up the fifteen flights to his apartment where his nice warm bed lay waiting for him—a seductress of the flighty temptress, sleep.

            Officer Taisho had just started the engine when a knock came on the window.  He rolled it down and looked up into the supervisor’s face.

            “Were we to need you, do we have permission to call?”  The man asked.  Officer Taisho focused on not showing his concern from the request on his face.

            “Of course, sir.  My mobile is always on.”

            “Thank you, Officer.  Good night.”

            “Good night.”

            Officer Taisho watched the supervisor hurry back into the hospital and pressed the button for his window to raise back up.  He stared out it for a moment before gazing at the dash.  The clock’s green light blazed into the darkness: 4:12 am.  Officer Taisho shrugged off the nagging feeling at the back of his head and pulled the gear out of park and into first.

.           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .

            Thick clouds of smoke made it nearly impossible to see.  It closed around his lungs like a vise and restricted his airflow dramatically.  The fire reached in from all sides, reaching for him with their tiny hot fingers of hate.  They reached for him as he struggled to carry his partner on his back through the wreckage.  His partner moaned in his ear, a weak moan of pain, of impending death, of giving up.

            ‘No,’ he said, frantically looking for an exit.  ‘Hang on, Houshi.’  He dove through a doorway and found a vacuum of air pulling fire and ash out the door.  Fire roared up before him.  Sweat fell into his eyes.  The smell of gasoline was pungent in his nose.  Gasoline and ash clogged his eyes.  They burned.  They were melting.

            His ears rang with a new sound:  screams.  Women were screaming in pain.  They were burning alive.  He looked for them.  He had to save them too.  His back ached with the weight of his partner.  He looked and saw them.  His eyes widened in fear.  His stomach turned at the grotesque image.

            No!

            With a savage cry, Sesshoumaru bolted upright in bed, sheets wrapped around his legs and dragging onto the floor as he thrashed for a moment.  Realization struck him like a load of bricks as he froze in his movements, panting hard.  Small slivers of sunlight poked around the heavy sheets blocking the windows, illuminating dancing dust particles in the dark.  Sesshoumaru felt for the bedside table, groping for the glass that had been there last night.  His fingers were shaking so violently that he flicked the glass off the table.  It shattered on the hardwood floor, spraying the water everywhere.

           Sesshoumaru groaned and pulled his shaking hand to his face and pressed his palms firmly to his sweaty skin.  The muscles beside his eye were jumping in his agitated state.  He pressed the muscle lightly, taking long breaths to calm his racing heart.  His phone buzzed in the darkness.  He reached out a trembling hand to grab the glowing device.  He flipped it open.

            “Taisho.”

            “Officer Taisho, we need you to return to Tokyo Main,” a woman, whom he could vaguely recognize as the Chief Watanabe, said briskly into the phone.

            “What?”  He asked, his voice coming out groggy from sleep.  He shook his head to clear it.

            “Forgive me, I must have awoken you, but, Officer Taisho, you must return to the Tokyo Main Hospital.  There is a situation in regards to the woman you brought in last night that I am hoping you can be able to assist us with,” Chief Watanabe continued.  Sesshoumaru swung his legs out over the side of the bed, not touching the ground, and turned on the light.  The shattered glass was right under his feet.  He placed his feet around the large shards and stood up.

            “What is the situation?”  He asked as he walked, naked, over to the closet.  He pulled back the accordion door and rummaged for a pair of boxer shorts.

            “You said she spoke to you, am I correct?”

            “Yes, Chief.”

            “Hm.  Well she is refusing to speak to anyone else.  The doctors had to sedate her to tend to her wounds.  They think she is a victim of continual violent abuse.”  Sesshoumaru grunted in understanding.  “We think she may be linked to Naraku Onigumo.”  Sesshoumaru’s hand froze above a pair of black socks.  His fingers shook for a moment before he resumed movement.

            “You think it was him?  It could have just been domestic.”

            “Quite probable.  I am down here now.  I can brief you when you come down here.  I just wanted you to know what you’re walking into.”

            “Understood chief.”

            “See you soon.”

            “Ja ne.”  Sesshoumaru snapped his phone shut and sighed.  He pressed his forearm against the back wall of the closet and shut his eyes.  Images of that fire.  The screaming.  All those girls…

            “Stop it,” Sesshoumaru commanded, pounding his fist into the wall.  He blinked, growled at himself, and continued to get dressed.

.           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .

            Officer Taisho stepped into the waiting room at Tokyo Main feeling an odd sense of déjà vu.  The same television show was on as the night before, and the same person as earlier this morning occupied one of chairs.  The old man was sleeping with his head against the wall, his mouth dangling open.  Officer Taisho looked up as the sound of heels clicked briskly towards him.

            Chief Watanabe strode across the linoleum floors towards him, her crisp black business suit covered with a bright white lab coat.  Her long black hair was pulled into her traditional ponytail, two tufts of black hair framing her face.  Her fierce brown eyes boring holes into him as she approached.  Officer Taisho saluted, standing rigid as she came to a stop before him.

            “At ease,” she told him, brushing her hand against her hip.  He put his arm to his side and relaxed.  Chief Watanabe had been his commanding officer for almost 7 years now.  He had come to know her well and had even taken her as a lover on occasion before.  But that was all before that fire.  She turned and walked back down the way she had come at a slower pace.   Officer Taisho fell into step beside her.

            “Apparently, her name is Higurashi Kagome.  We found a badly cut up student id in her pocket and was able to piece it together.  She is 23 years old, a senior at Tokyo University.  She lives by herself in an apartment near the university.” The Chief sighed.  “Her mother reported her missing three days ago after she missed an appointment with her and hadn’t answered phone calls or visits to the apartment.  I would like to send you and Officer Tensha to her apartment to see if anything is amiss.  But first,” here the chief stopped walking.  She regarded Officer Taisho for a moment.

            “Did you sleep?”  Concern leaked into her voice for a moment.  He kept his eyes away from her, knowing the concern was in those sharp chocolate eyes as well.  He didn’t want to see that look in her eyes.  He couldn’t see it anymore.

            “Yes, ma’am.”

            “You don’t look as though you have.”

            “I feel as though I have, though,” he replied sharply, telling her to drop it.  She nodded.  Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her eyes harden.  Only when she resumed walking and talking about the case at hand, did he look at her again.

            “First, I would like you to go in and try to talk to her.  She hasn’t spoken a word to anyone.  The blood that was covering her when you brought her in wasn’t all hers.  We need to find out whose blood it was, if anyone else was injured, or anything else that we need to know.  Since she spoke to you last night, maybe you can get her to talk.”

            “She is probably in shock; unable to talk because of whatever it is that happened to her.”

            “Yes, we know that.  But you are skilled in this area, Taisho, even if you took yourself out of the detective bureau.”  Officer Taisho’s mouth thinned into a line, the curves of his lips pulling down.

            “Thank you for the reminder, Chief,” he tried to keep the bitterness from his voice.  Chief Watanabe grabbed his arm and pulled him to stop.

            “Sesshoumaru,” she growled at him, dropping all stoicism and formality.  He looked down at his friend.  “Can you do this?  Can I count on you to keep it together?  We need you to do this.  I need you to do this.”  Sesshoumaru’s eyes softened as his face relaxed.  She relaxed her hold on his arm.

            “Yea, Sango,” he replied softly.  “I can do this.  I’ll let you know otherwise.”  She dropped his arm.

            “Please, Sesshoumaru,” she continued, “just…just let me know, okay?”  He nodded, looking away from her again.

            “She’s in the room right up here,” Chief Watanabe said, resuming their progress forward.  Officer Tensha was standing beside her door, one hand up to his face as he yawned.  Officer Taisho frowned.  Of all people, he didn’t want to be working with Tensha Kouga.  The brute was a womanizer and a playboy with little to no care about anything but the pleasures of life.  How the kamis he became a police officer was beyond him.

            “Officer Tensha,” Chief Watanabe’s voice rang with authority.  Officer Taisho smirked mentally as the other officer jumped.

            “Yes, Chief?”

            “You know Officer Taisho.  He will be working with you on this case.”  Officer Tensha looked at Officer Taisho, his bright blue eyes standing out against his short black hair and olive brown skin.  They bowed to each other.

            “Of course, Chief,” Officer Tensha replied.

            “Officer Taisho, if you please.  Higurashi is in this room.”  Officer Taisho nodded and stepped past Tensha into the room.  The shades were open, letting the bright spring sun into the room.  Since the day was of mild temperature, the window was propped open slightly.  The television entertained itself in the corner, the sound muted.  The girl was laying on the bed, her head and arm wrapped.  The arm that he knew had the kanji for love carved into it was in a sling. Her free hand was covered in a cast. She had a bandage across one cheek.  She was staring out the window, lips pressing together with visible force.

            “Miss Higurashi,” Officer Taisho spoke softly, his baritone voice vibrating in the silence of the room.  “My name is Officer Taisho Sesshoumaru.  I’m the one who found you this morning.” She turned her haunted brown eyes to him.  “I wanted to see how you were doing.”  She stared at him.  He removed his hat and tucked it under his arm.  He was standing, appearing awkward by the door.  This tactic, he knew, would work on a young Japanese woman with manners.  She raised her cast-covered hand and made a sweeping towards her in acceptance of his moving into the room further.  He bowed in thanks and moved into the room.  He caught his reflection briefly in the large mirror on the wall.

            Sango had been right; he did look like he hadn’t slept.  His alabaster skin had a slightly waxy look to it and dark circles marred the skin under his eyes.  His golden eyes were a dull brass now, petering towards lifeless.  His short silver hair hung limp on his head like a star-colored mop.  He tried to keep his face stoic as his lips twitched in their need to frown.  He caught her gaze in the mirror, and saw that she was staring at herself, disgust in her eyes.  Her entire body was taut like a cat cornered.  He thought quickly.

            “Do you mind if I…” he let his calm voice trail off as he moved forward and picked up a small blanket.  He shook it out and tucked the ends behind the tops of the mirror until the blanket covered the reflective surface.  He looked at her and saw her visibly relax.  She was looking at him curiously, as if asking him why he did that.

            “I thought it may help,” he filled the silence briefly, and then shrugged.  He glanced at her chart.  “May I?”  She nodded.  He took her chart in his hand and thumbed it open.  He read it briefly.

            “Miss Higurashi…”

            “Call me Kagome,” her voice was rough and raspy.  He looked up at her.

            “Excuse me, Kagome,” he continued, as if her speaking was nothing new.  “but, how are you?”  She was silent as she watched him.  She shrugged slightly.

            “Do you mind if I sit?”  He asked with his hand on the back of a chair.  She shook her head.  He picked it up and sat it against the wall.  He sat down, propping his ankle on his knee.  He set his hat in his lap.

            “Truthfully, Kagome, I was assigned to find out what happened to you, and if there are others that may be in danger as well,” he watched her carefully.  He watched as she tensed her shoulders, her mouth clamping shut.  “I was told that you haven’t wanted to talk to anyone, and that’s just fine.  You don’t have to talk to me.  I just want you to know that I will be trying to find out what happened to you and trying to bring justice to whoever did it.”

            There was an odd look that crossed her face for a moment; a mix of shame, guilt, hatred, and anger.  She looked away from him then, turning her head until she was looking at the other wall.  Officer Taisho felt bile rise in his stomach.  There, tattooed into the side of her neck, hidden just a little, was the freshly inked name: Inuyasha.  He struggled with his anger and dismay for a moment before taking in a short hiss of breath and relaxing.

            “I will come back later to see how you are doing, is that okay?”  he asked.  She didn’t move for few minutes, but then, she looked back at him.  Her look was curious mixed with suspicious.

            “I want to see how you are doing.   I don’t have to check in with you about the case.  I just want to know how you’re healing, Kagome.”  She regarded him for a moment more before her face relaxed and she nodded.  Sesshoumaru let a small smile curve his lips upward, something he never did on his own anymore.  He tried to not feel uncomfortable as his muscles bunches by his eyes.

            “Thank you, Kagome.”  He stood and bowed to her.  “Until next time.”  He tucked his hat under his arm again and left the room.  As soon as he was sure she could no longer see his face, the stoic mask resumed its position.  He shut the door behind him and looked at the Chief and other officer still standing there.

            “You got her to talk,” Officer Tensha said in surprise.  Officer Taisho nodded.

            “Please keep the blanket over the mirror in room or take the mirror down.  I think she will relax and talk more if she can’t see herself.  I highly suggest getting a psychiatrist to talk to her.  Female, older, maybe Kaede.  She will respond to an older woman trying to help her.”

            “I will take that into consideration,” Chief Watanabe said.  “For now, you and Officer Tensha need to get to her apartment and figure out any links we can find between who did this and why.”

            “Yes, Chief,” Tensha and Taisho replied, saluting her.

.           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .

            “Can I ask,” Officer Tensha broke the long silence from the hospital to a neighborhood within an easy five-minute walk to Tokyo University.  They were parking in front of her building and checking the address when Tensha finally spoke up.

            “What is it?”  Officer Taisho asked, clicking on the touch screen for a layout of the building.

            “What happened at that fire?” Tensha asked, expectantly.  Officer Taisho turned black eyes at the young officer, who sat back quickly, realizing his mistake.

            “You will not mention that event to me,” Officer Taisho ordered.  Officer Tensha nodded quickly.

            “Yea, sorry.  Didn’t realize.”  Tensha shut his mouth.

            “Her apartment is on the thirteenth floor.  Number 1314.  One bedroom.  Lets go.”

            “Roger.”

            The two officers entered the building.  They took the rickety elevator to the thirteenth floor and stepped off.  A young man was waiting to get on the elevator.  He had a backpack on his back and violently purple hair.

            “Officers,” he greeted with a bow.  Officer Taisho nodded at him and moved past into the hallway.  Officer Tensha was right behind him.  They waited for the purple haired man to enter the elevator, and the doors to close, before setting off towards apartment 1314.  When they got close, Officer Taisho held up a hand to stop Tensha.  The door was slightly ajar.  Each of the officers un-holstered their guns and held them at ready.  Officer Tensha hurried the door and pressed his back against the wall on the other side.  The two officers made eye-contact and nodded.  Officer Taisho kicked the door open, gun at the ready.

            “Tokyo PD,” he called.  He and Tensha swept through the three-room apartment.  No one was there.  The place, however, looked like it had been ransacked.  Papers were everywhere.  Furniture was upended, broken, and, in one case, smashed completely to bits.  Her computer was in a mangled mess against the wall.  Her mattress had been thrown up against the wall.  Dark stains peeked from under her sheets.  It looked like someone had been searching for something.

            “Jesus Christ.  Taisho, get in here,” Officer Tensha’s voice quivered from the next room.  Officer Taisho joined Tensha in the bathroom.  Dried blood covered the edge of the sink and splattered the walls and toilet seat.  Unmistakable human hair was mixed into a bloody dent in the tile by the bathtub.

            “I’m calling for backup,” Officer Taisho said as he unclasped his com-device on his vest.  He stopped, eyes fixing on something laying on the dresser across the room.  He walked to it, staring at it in disbelief.  There, lying innocently on its side, was a little photo frame of her and a white haired young man, grinning at the carnival.  Sesshoumaru picked up the frame and stared at the image.

            “Fuck.”

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            “We’re running the blood samples now to try to get a match.  If it’s her’s, we’ll know she was attacked in her home and abducted.  If it’s not, then she’s in much hotter water than we originally thought.”  The Chief was speaking with Officer Tensha as Officer Taisho was standing a little ways away, his phone to his ear.  The same voicemail started and he snapped his phone shut.  Of all times for the prick to not answer…

            “Taisho,” Chief Watanabe called him over.  “We need you to find and investigate all of her friends.  We found a list of numbers on her fridge.  Find out everything you can from them.”

            “Yes ma’am,” the two men answered together.  They moved to leave.

            “Taisho,” the Chief caught him by the arm, “a moment, please.”  She turned towards the door exiting the apartment.  Officer Taisho followed, leaving Tensha to look over the list of numbers.

            “Tensha said you found something you did not submit for evidence,” she spoke lightly, but there was authority in her voice that he knew well.  He didn’t say anything in response.  “Let me make this perfectly clear to you, Sesshoumaru,” she spoke carefully.  “It doesn’t matter what the evidence is, it must all be turned in to the bureau.  If you do not hand it over, I will have to suspend you from this case.”

            “Sango,” Sesshoumaru almost whispered her name as he unfolded the picture and held it out to her.  She breathed in harshly.

            “Well, shit.  No wonder.”  The Chief looked up into Sesshoumaru’s eyes.  “I thought that I had seen his name on her neck…  I should pull you from this, Sesshoumaru.”  He nodded.  “But I won’t.  If anyone can find him and get the truth out of him, you can.  He’ll see the rest of us coming a mile away.”  She regarded him for a moment.  “Does he know you’ve returned to active duty?”

            “No.”

            “Keep it that way, just for the mean time.”

            “Yes ma’am.”

            “I’m asking you to play this close to the chest, Sesshoumaru,” she continued, a wary look in her eye.  He nodded.  “I’ll make it worth your while.”  She dragged her fingers down his arm lightly.

            “Not necessary,” he replied.  “I would have done this in or out of uniform.”  She dropped her arm, regarding him for a minute before nodding.

            “I know.”

            “Ready to go, Taisho?”  Tensha stood in the doorway of the apartment.  Officer Taisho nodded.

            “Chief?”

            “Get to it.”

.           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .

            “I’m sorry,” Officer Tensha said in the squad car as they pulled away from the building.

            “It was correct procedure.  You have nothing to apologize for,” Officer Taisho replied.  They were quiet for some time.

            “Where are we going?  I thought we had to question her friends,” Officer Tensha asked as Officer Taisho pulled onto the highway headed towards the south of the city.

            “We need to stop somewhere first.  I need to talk to someone.”

            “Like who?”

            “My brother.”