SHINJUKU WILD, CHAPTER FOURby rukia
Chapter 4: Transitions
Ichigo shifted uncomfortably. His legs were cramping up from standing so long in a stuffy, overcrowded subway train. He hated commuting; it was #3 of the top 3 things that irritated him the most.
#1 was crackpot fortune-telling…
“Oh-ho, what have we here?” the man in the seat that Ichigo stood by was enthusiastically reading the weekly tabloids aloud. “Don Kanonji organizes a protest against the police department and gets incarcerated overnight for inciting a disturbance. Ve~ry interesting!”
#2 was obnoxious people who talk too loud in the subway…
The man looked up from the paper and smiled at Ichigo, “What do you think about this?”
Correction: #2 was obnoxious people who talk to him in the subway…
Ichigo shrugged irritably, giving off the distinct air that he didn’t give a damn.
“Oh, but surely you must think something about it,” the man grinned, showing off his perfectly straight teeth. Ichigo suddenly realized that this weirdo wasn’t just some nutty homeless guy, despite the dusty black haori jacket, the unkempt stubble across his chin and the suspicious looking grocery bag held between his feet. The man continued talking in a sly, sugar-sweet tone, “After all, you are the recently-infamous Kurosaki Ichigo-san, am I right?”
Ichigo’s eyes widened and sensed that many of the nearby commuters were suddenly looking in his direction out of curiosity. His glared down at the sitting stranger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he growled through clenched teeth, “You must have me mistaken with somebody else, Mister.”
“Oh-ho,” the stranger’s clever smile never faltered as he tipped his green-and-white striped hat high enough to look Ichigo in the eye, “Perhaps I have, perhaps I haven’t… but since this is your train stop, I’ll give you a small parting gift and let you be on your way. That’s how it works in folktales, I hear.”
“Quit being so damn condescending,” Ichigo warned the man under his breath. This conversation was taking a disturbing turn. How did he know that Ichigo planned to get off at the station they were pulling into… was this freak stalking him? It seemed more likely that the stranger jumped to an obvious conclusion. After all, it was a large hub station that transfers into the Yamanote line; almost everybody would get off here during their morning commute from the suburbs.
The train doors slid open with an electronic voice intoning the station name. Dozens of clean-cut salarymen and well-dressed office ladies milled towards the sliding doorways like grey and white cattle. Ichigo hurriedly yanked his black bag from the overhead shelf and shuffled towards the exit, relieved to get away from the oddball who remained sitting in the fast-emptying train car.
“Don’t forget!” the man called out before the doors whooshed shut behind Ichigo. “If you’re ever in trouble like what happened in that old woman’s place yesterday, just use my gift!”
“What!?” Ichigo spun on his heel and suddenly rammed himself against the closed doors in a thoughtless attempt to get back inside, but he was too late. The man looked out at him and simply gave a cheerful wave as the train started to move.
“Dammit! How did you know about the apartment!?” Ichigo banged his fists against the glass doors, but it was too thick to break. “Have you been stalking me, you creepy sandal-hat weirdo!?”
Without any answers to his questions, Ichigo watched irritably as the train slithered away into the dark subway tunnel. He cursed violently after the stranger quickly disappeared from view.
It was only much later on that Ichigo wondered what the man had meant by the word ‘gift.’
~*~*~
Urahara Kisuke took full advantage of the emptied train car by stretching out his legs and propping his arms against the seats on either side of him. He allowed himself a luxurious, jaw-popping yawn before leaning his head back and resting it against the window. Since he went to such trouble to get up early enough in the morning to meet Kurosaki-san, he was still quite sleepy. Surely he should reward himself with a short, pleasant nap.
The large paper bag at his feet shifted and crinkled as a dark shape gracefully leapt out of it and landed on Urahara’s lap. He did not bother to open his eyes as he addressed the sleek creature, “I think that went splendidly. Don’t you think so, Yoruichi-san?”
“Not much for a first impression,” the black cat said dryly, glancing briskly around the empty car. “Are you sure it was wise to give him such a thing? He wouldn’t even know how to use it.”
“I’m sure he’ll figure it out if he really needs to,” Urahara smiled, cracking one eye open to look at his companion from under the shade of his hat. “He may not look it, but he’s very clever, you know. He picks up on things fast; very useful for a man of his talents.”
“I can see that his spiritual strength is indeed,” Yoruichi paused, thinking of a proper way to speak her thoughts, “not that of an average man. However, I do not see the need to meddle with his situation.”
“Yoruichi-san, I’m sorry to say, but sometimes you lack foresight,” Urahara grinned lazily. “I’ve watched Kurosaki-san grow up in my neighborhood since he was a mere boy. I’ve been patient and listened to your admonitions for far too long, you know. I won’t let such vast potential slip though my fingers.”
“You fall too easily into temptation, Kisuke,” Yoruichi sighed, her ears flattened against her head. “And perhaps I do lack some foresight, but I can see clearly enough what you have planned for him. How will you try to take him under your wing? I doubt he’ll be willing to learn from you. When he finds the gift you left him, he will most likely throw it away out of distrust. So in the end, this morning will prove fruitless.”
“I beg to differ,” Urahara reached behind Yoruichi’s head and rubbed her right behind her neck as a way to soothe his dear friend’s disapproval. “I’ve spent years on this investment. The way I see it, this little encounter is only the beginning of my real fun. Interesting times are ahead, my friend.”
“Do as you wish, Kisuke,” Yoruichi took the neck massage amiably, yet kept her warning sharp, “but keep him away from their attention, understand?”
“Yes, yes,” Urahara nestled his head to the side of his shoulder, trying to find a comfortable position to nap for the next few train stops. He yawned again, “For a cat, you can be awfully stressed at times.”
“For a human,” Yoruichi replied curtly, “you’re awfully laid-back at times.”
~*~*~
Ichigo looked up at the sign for the Shinjuku bakery, where Tatsuki said she would meet him. The name and flowery lettering seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite make a connection in his misused memory. He shrugged it off and entered through the automatic glass doors as an electronic tune for “Jingle Bells” signaled his arrival.
A young woman behind the cash register looked up as he entered and waved cheerfully, “Welcome to Hanayaka Pan, Kurosaki-kun! Long time, no see!”
He paused at the doorway, carelessly letting a cold gust of wind through the open doors and into the warm bread shop. How did this complete stranger know his name? It was the second time this happened in only half an hour. Did Dad scrawl his name on his forehead with black marker while he was still asleep? Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first time that pathetic prank occurred…
The woman kept smiling as if being happy was not an option, but a way of life. She waved him in towards the register, the red Santa cap bouncing on her head in a jolly manner, “C’mon in! Tatsuki told me you would come by today, so I reserved a seat for you both.”
Ichigo walked up to her slowly, racking his brain to put a name to the face. “…Um…”
“Inoue,” the woman with long hair and bright eyes giggled when she noticed his frustrated scowl. “Inoue Orihime – Tatsuki’s friend.”
“Oh, yeah!” his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yeah, I remember now, I… I just needed a second, that’s all. So, you work here?”
“Yup,” she said proudly, “I’m the owner of the whole building. It’s only 3 floors, but it’s a comfy place and I like running the bakery.”
“What, you own it?” Ichigo couldn’t help his skepticism, “Wouldn’t it be hard to build up a business this fast?” After all, Orihime wasn’t any older than him. He couldn’t imagine himself owning a building and running a store this early in life. Most likely, no one would want to give an orange-haired punk a business loan in the first place.
“It’s a l~ong story involving rat catchers, 2 game shows, a cruise to the Barbados with an Elvis impersonator, and an attempted popcorn poisoning at a Hollywood movie premiere,” Orihime shrugged. “But in the end, I got full ownership of this bakery – so it all worked out for the best.”
“Uh… right,” Ichigo silently wondered, What the hell has she been up to between high school graduation and now? It certainly doesn’t seem normal… or even believable…
Orihime ushered him towards one end of the shop, where a few booths were set up for customers to enjoy their meals. She pointed to the booth on the far corner, “Here’s the spot I saved. You can –”
“’Ey, missy! I ain’t got all mornin’!” A man in his late forties with a thick northern accent knocked on the register counter impatiently.
“My apologies, Onimaru-san! What can I do for you?” Orihime left Ichigo at the table and rushed back to work.
With the conversation abandoned, Ichigo took a seat at the reserved table in a suddenly dark mood. He had been telling the truth earlier; he really did remember Orihime as soon as she spoke her surname. However, the first memory that surfaced in his mind disturbed him.
It wasn’t a memory from their 3 years of taking the same high school classes, nor the handful of times he ran into her by chance during his days in college; not even that one time 6 months ago, when he was organizing Kanonji’s guest appearance on a comedy show and she had been a member of the live audience. Those faded memories trailed in after the first one, which came from a time far earlier than the rest but much clearer in his mind’s eye.
He remembered the day Orihime’s brother died. He was on his way to school when he saw the thin girl standing in front of the clinic, her school uniform caked with filth and blood. Her eyes had been so wide and lost, her body shaking violently under the burden of a wounded man.
“My brother… he’s, he’s in pain. Please help him. Please…”
“Please help yourself!” Orihime appeared by his table cheerily.
Ichigo forced the voice of the terrified girl out of his mind and looked up at the woman she had become, “No thanks. I’m not that hungry.”
“You sure?” Orihime tilted her head to the side, “Not even a snack?”
“I’ll have something when Tatsuki gets here,” he said calmly.
“Okay!” Satisfied that she did all she could to make him comfortable, Orihime walked off to assist another customer.
Gazing about idly, Ichigo noticed the black funeral tablet placed respectfully on a shelf on the wall behind the counter. His mind felt out towards it, wondering if the lingering sorrow of her brother’s soul still remained.
…No, nothing. There were no traces left. Her brother’s soul had passed on years ago, leaving no negative energy behind. That was a relief, since no one really wanted to be haunted by dead loved ones, right?
Except… Ichigo would give anything if he could have his Mom come back. Even if it was just as a ghost to haunt him into insanity, he wouldn’t mind. He deserved some sort of punishment for what he did…
With a frustrated sigh, Ichigo tossed his weather-beaten black backpack on the table and pulled out a handful of thick, pastel-colored pamphlets. He shouldn’t waste time brooding – he had plenty of stuff to do.
Twenty minutes passed working in silence before Ichigo glanced up at the sound of “Jingle Bells,” which heralded in another customer through the automatic doors.
“Tatsuki!” Orihime called out from behind the counter.
“Hey, Orihime,” Tatsuki smiled as she walked in, shrugging off her heavy overcoat as the warmth of the bakery hit her. “Is Ichigo here yet?”
“Over here,” Ichigo said from the far booth and waited for Tatsuki to make her way over.
She gave Orihime a short wave and a smile. Then Tatsuki plopped down into the seat facing Ichigo and shot him a glare, “We’ve got a problem. Several, actually.”
He rolled his eyes skyward, “Well, good morning to you too, Tatsuki.”
“Shut up. I’m serious,” she scowled. “I found someone reading through our ‘wild hit’ case files when I got to work this morning.”
“Who? Captain Kagine?” Ichigo leaned forward, lowering his voice, “Reporters?”
“Nope. Ishida.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly,” Tatsuki sighed irritably, “I chewed him out, but it seems that everyone in our department is convinced that he was just offering a little help – that damn liar,” she growled, “I hate it when pretentious pricks –”
“So, you decked him, right?”
This startled Tatsuki out of her rant, “Huh?”
“You punched his teeth in, right?” Ichigo insisted.
Her frown deepened, “I told you before, I’m a mature adult, dammit – I can’t cause any fights while the Captain has us under such close watch. I can’t afford to be demoted again.”
“Again?” he echoed. “Does that mean -”
“Shut the hell up.”
Ichigo easily changed the subject, “So Ishida’s going to try and gain access to our files again, huh. Maybe I should talk to Chad about this. Then I’ll go over to Headquarters and –”
“Not a good idea,” she interrupted.
“Why not?” he asked confused.
“Have you forgotten your adoring fans so easily?” Tatsuki quirked an eyebrow at him. “Not to mention that there are reporters out in droves today. Captain Kagine talked to me as I was leaving the office. He doesn’t want you around Headquarters until they can get the Kanonji Deadbeat Corps under control. Apparently, incarcerating the Don wasn’t the best idea.”
Ichigo bowed his head and put his hand to his forehead. He felt so tired already and it wasn’t even noon yet. “What else, Tatsuki?” he asked. “Any more shit to throw at me?”
“One last thing,” she looked away uncomfortably. “Ishida got a bit irate during our, erm, disagreement… He said that as soon as he gets home today, he’s donating your stuff to the homeless.”
Ichigo bit the inside of his mouth, fighting the urge to yell at someone – Tatsuki, Ishida, Kanonji, anyone; it didn’t matter who. He really didn’t like it when life conspired against him, especially since that seemed to happen all too often…
He took a deep breath, let it out, and stood up, “Let’s go.”
She looked up at him, surprised that he could keep his temper in check, “Where to?”
Ichigo picked up the brochures on the table and slid them in Tatsuki’s direction, “I need a place to stay before we continue working on the case.”
“Are you looking for something?” Orihime asked from behind Ichigo.
“Inoue!” He jumped and spun around. “Shit! It’s not good to sneak up on people like that!”
“Sorry, sorry!” Orihime smiled. “I was just wondering if you need any help.”
“Not much you can help us with,” Tatsuki waved the colored pamphlets in her direction, “unless you know of a good place to rent an apartment.”
“Well…” She tapped her index finger to her lips. “There is one place…”
~*~*~
“How come you didn’t tell me she moved out?” Tatsuki asked Orihime at the doorway.
“You didn’t like her, remember?” Orihime shrugged. “Just hearing about her put you in a bad mood.”
“Can you blame me?” Tatsuki crossed her arms and peeked inside the room, “She was a creepy old witch who had more dead cats than friends.”
Orihime shrugged, “She wasn’t so bad…”
Tatsuki sniffed the air distastefully, “Still stinks of rotten cat food…”
Orihime peered into the room over Tatsuki’s shoulder. Inside the small flat, Ichigo surveyed the interior. “What do you this, Kurosaki-kun?” she asked.
“The smell can be aired out,” he shrugged as he inspected the walls and floor of the one-room apartment. This was an attic flat, so due to the shape of the roof, the ceiling sloped sideways. Ichigo pulled back the curtain and wasn’t surprised to see a brick wall facing him. This building was at least 60 years old and post-war city planning had been a mess for the city of Tokyo. “There’s not much space between the window and the next building. Bit of a fire hazard.”
“Well, that’s how it’s always been,” Orihime’s smile was visibly nervous. The bakery got lonely at night and she certainly wanted to have a new tenant around to make the place feel more comfortable. However, no one ever seemed interested in renting it out before. Even Tatsuki preferred to live elsewhere, since there were so many bad points about the room.
“There’s no bath,” Ichigo noted as he opened a door and looked into the small water closet.
“There’s no bath in mine either,” Orihime laughed nervously. “Luckily, there’s a public bath just 3 blocks from here… erm…”
“Sugar-coating it won’t help much,” Tatsuki was already flipping through the pamphlet Ichigo had shown her, looking for a place that better suited him, “We should get going soon if you want to try and find an apartment by tonight, you know.”
“Give me a second,” Ichigo slowly walked the parameter of the room and then reached out to touch the wall. He closed his eyes and concentrated.
“Aw, shit,” Tatsuki tossed the pamphlet on the nearby desk and glowered at him. “He’s doing it again.”
“Doing what again?” Orihime asked, bewildered.
“Don’t ask,” she turned and walked back down the hallway grumpily, “Let’s just go downstairs until he’s done. I’ve already seen enough of his little exorcist act.”
Ichigo opened his eyes and snapped his gaze in her direction, “I heard that, Tatsuki.”
“Good,” she looked over at him. “Done already?”
Ichigo nodded, it didn’t take long for him to get a feel for the area. The entire building had an overwhelming sense of peace, which was odd for a place in the center of Shinjuku. Orihime’s optimistic nature seemed to permeate the walls of the old structure, clearing the air of psychic abnormalities without Orihime even being aware of her effect on her home. It was one of the few places in the city with so little spiritual disturbance, which meant that ghosts didn’t frequent here often - not even here in the attic. He wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass him by, “I’ll take it.”
Tatsuki and Orihime stared at him in open shock. “Really!?” they gasped in unison.
Ichigo shrugged, “Low rent, got an old friend as my landlady, and best yet - Don Kanonji wouldn’t expect me to live in a place like this.” Then he added sourly, “Plus, I hate apartment hunting.”
Tatsuki looked around the apartment with a far more critical eye than before, “Fine, fine, if that’s what you want, but –”
The ring of her cell phone cut her off. She dug into her coat pocket and brought it to her ear. “Arisawa,” she said. A moment passed, “Uh-huh.” Another moment passed, “Sure, we’re only 3 minutes away from 3rd street. What happened?” A shorter pause, “Aw… fuck.” She clicked off the phone and stuffed it back in her pocket. Tatsuki looked up at her partner, “We have another victim – some guy by the name of Onimaru who lived 2 blocks away from here.”
Ichigo’s reaction was as profane as Tatsuki’s had been.
Orihime looked up between her two friends, recognizing the name quickly, “Onimaru…? Oh, I hope it’s not Onimaru Hiroaki-san!”
Tatsuki blinked at her, “Orihime! You know the victim!?”
Orihime’s face grew pale, horrified, “Oh no… it can’t be… he was just here an hour ago.” She turned to Ichigo, “You remember Onimaru-san, don’t you? He has a northern accent, remember?”
Ichigo scowled. “Had one, yeah… I remember, Inoue. He was the impatient guy who was there when I came in,” Ichigo’s memory wasn’t faulty enough to forget such a recent event. Luck must have been on his side, because he remembered something else. “Inoue, do you remember an old lady by the name of Tachibana? She lived about a block away from here.”
“Yes! I know her! She’s very nice. She comes in every Tuesday and Friday to buy bread and milk and sometimes some pastry. She really likes the ones filled with strawberry jam even though it’s not very good for her health,” she smiled ruefully, still in shock over Onimaru-san’s death and trying hard to speak of happier things. The strain of conflicting emotions was beginning to show on her face.
“Was Onimaru-san a regular customer too?” Ichigo asked, though he already suspected what the answer would be. “What can you tell me about him?”
Her weak smile faltered, “Well… yes, he would come by on Mondays, Thursdays, and sometimes on Saturday when he wasn’t working at the construction site – he once told me he was an inspector, I think. He has... he had a mean temper, but I always thought that was his way of being interesting…”
Tatsuki’s jaw went slack from shock. She hadn’t realized the connection until now and it felt embarrassing that Ichigo caught onto it before her.
Ms. Tachibana had a bag of bread and milk in her kitchen, stuff she had bought from here, Hanayaka Pan… Tatsuki thought, It didn’t seem odd at the time since Orihime’s bakery is so nearby. This seems like a flimsy connection, but it’s the first one we’ve stumbled onto so far…
Ichigo pushed passed the girls, heading for the staircase, “We have to go now, Orihime, but we’ll see you later.”
“Um…” Orihime stood at the head of the stairs as she watched her friends leave, “What about the apartment? Should I prepare a boarding contract?”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll move in my stuff this afternoon. And, hey,” Ichigo grinned over his shoulder, “thanks for helping me out, Inoue.”
“No problem!” Orihime smiled back radiantly, though the edges of her smile were marked by sadness. Although she should be happy to finally have a tenant, all she could think of was Onimaru-san and the wife he left behind. It must be horrible to be a detective, she concluded. It meant picking up the pieces of dreams shattered by sin.
~*~*~
A corpse lay inside a derelict apartment in the heart of the Kabuki-cho district. No one knew that it was there. No one will ever know.
A heavy layer of dust and grime covered everything in the sparse apartment except the body, which was clean and clothed. It had a lanky and well-muscled form, and was laid out on a thin mattress in the middle of the empty room. It had the face of a handsome man, perfectly preserved in soulless sleep.
Without any warning or even the spark of an unearthly miracle, the heart of the corpse began to beat within its chest. The rhythm of the beating was constant and unwavering, as if it had always kept that cadence and nothing prevented it from doing so again.
The lips on the corpse parted as it took its first breath. The rush of air felt good in its unused lungs, so it took another deep breath. And then another.
Ever so slightly, the corners of its mouth turned upward. The corpse smiled.
Eventually, it opened its eyes and stared at the ceiling, carefully focusing its vision properly. It had been a long time and had long forgotten about human senses, so the body remained motionless as it carefully grew accustomed to all of its different attributes.
Sight, it inhaled musty air deeply through the nose, Scent. The body licked its dry lips, Taste, touch. It closed its eyes to concentrate on the noise of daytime traffic that filtered in from the road outside. Hearing… now, what was that 6th one…?
Ah, yes, the soul of the newly inhabited corpse spread out comfortably and sought the aura of its target, several miles away in another section of Tokyo. So that’s where he is…
The corpse, which was no longer a proper corpse but now a living man for all appearance’s sake, slowly stood up and walked over to the moldy wooden bureau. After a quick glance at the dusty mirror to straighten his clothes and run a hand through his hair, he grinned crookedly and snatched up a pair of keys which solely occupied the dresser.
He was eager to try out the vehicle parked outside. Neither his body nor his intruding soul had ever driven one before, but he had no choice but to learn quickly.
After all, things were about to get very interesting.
~*~*~
“…Mmm…”
“You sure? I’ve been asking a lot of favors lately…”
“…No big deal.”
“Thanks. We’ll see you at 4 to pick up everything.”
“…Okay.”
“Later,” Ichigo clicked off Tatsuki’s cell phone and handed it back to her. “He’s got it all covered.”
“Good,” Tatsuki pocketed her phone as she surveyed the scene one last time. They had arrived just in time to speak with the paramedics who had arrived on scene. Forensics came in not long after that and about another hour later, Onimaru’s corpse was loaded into the ambulance to take to the morgue. Ichigo and Tatsuki had collected all kinds of information from everyone on the scene, but the results were strikingly similar to previous ‘wild hits’: No forced entry, little sign of struggle, massive wounds, and according to the witness, no killer.
Interviewing the only witness had been the hardest part…
“I thought he was having a stroke…” Mrs. Onimaru was a woman in her mid-30s seemed to be the type of housewife who could have aged gracefully well into her 50s with only a few wrinkles along the laugh lines of her mouth and the crinkles by her eyes.
Unfortunately, the events of this morning put her in a state of shock and aged her features drastically. She rocked herself back and forth slightly, fidgeting on the couch as a female police officer sat beside her to give support. “He was talking – talking about everyday things… then he fell over in his chair and I-I got up and ran over to him but I… I saw all the blood on his back… and then the dishes suddenly… such a mess… everywhere…”
Mrs. Onimaru was bleeding from several light cuts on the palm of her hands, but she wouldn’t let anyone touch her and treat the wounds. Ichigo and Tatsuki later concluded that she had been trying to clean up the mess – her mind trying to focus on something mundane in her frenzied state of mind. Those who are afraid tend to cling to that which is familiar.
Unfortunately for Mrs. Onimaru, not everyone saw it that way. Her hands would be damning evidence if this case were left to anyone else besides paranormal investigators.
“Officer Fuji,” Tatsuki addressed the female cop, “please escort Mrs. Onimaru to the hospital and have her contact her relatives. Keep any other officers from interrogating her without permission from either my partner or myself – she’s been through a rough morning.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Onimaru-san’s widow was probably in the hospital by now, forensics was busy processing most of the immediate evidence in their labs, and Onimaru-san was due in for an autopsy. As for the deserted scene of the crime, Tatsuki and Ichigo stayed back to perform a different kind of investigation.
“So,” Tatsuki stood back towards the wall to give Ichigo all the room he may need to do his mind-thing, particularly if he got violently ill again. “What can you tell from everything so far?”
Ichigo sighed and gave her a sideways glance, “Gut reaction?”
“That’s what you get paid for,” she shrugged.
“Onimaru-san died peacefully, but his soul didn't go down without fighting back,” Ichigo shook his head with the barest glint of respect in her eyes. “He was tougher than his killer expected and there was a brief, violent fight–”
“- Spiritually speaking,” Tatsuki interrupted.
“Yeah, spiritually speaking,” he nodded, “That’s why the dinner plates and glasses started breaking – Onimaru-san and this poltergeist or ‘hollow’ or whatever it is left traces everywhere. So it seems that the killer hadn’t been able to make a clean kill this time. However, even with the traces I can see, it’s only enough to give me a rough idea of what we’re facing…”
“Which is?”
“Not much more than we already know. The killer definitely something that’s not of this world – it’s bloodthirsty and incredibly angry about something… I don’t know why, but I sense bitterness, regret, and… lots of guilt. That certainly isn’t from Onimaru-san’s spiritual traces, since he was radiating panic and fear – so it has to be from the killer,” Ichigo rubbed a hand to his forehead, concentrating. “What’s even worse is that we don’t have a clue as to what motivates this thing to attack these particular people…”
“We have one clue…” Tatsuki frowned, “but I can’t figure how the bread shop figures into the equation, except that most of the deaths have occurred within its vicinity and the two latest victims were frequent customers.”
Ichigo looked over at her, “We should ask Orihime if she recognizes any of the previous victims.”
Tatsuki looked as if she were about to protest, but she just glanced away, grumbling, “Sure… after I drop by the forensics department in the afternoon to see how the autopsy goes, then I’ll come back and have a talk with her.”
“I’ve got some time before I go see Chad about my stuff,” Ichigo said. “I could go talk to her.”
“No,” she said flatly.
“Why the hell not?” he bristled.
“Because it takes something called ‘tact’ – which you sorely lack,” she frowned.
“Ha! Like you’re any better?” he snorted.
“Better than you, at least,” Tatsuki grimaced. “Just leave it to me – it’s not going to be an easy conversation with her and I don’t want you messing it up.”
Ichigo rolled his eyes, “Fine. Whatever. Let’s go to headquarters together and then we can stop by Chad’s place to move my boxes out.”
“Actually, you should probably go to Shibuya by train and wait for me at Chad’s place,” Tatsuki said briskly as she walked towards the door. “I can’t bring you with me.”
“Why the hell not?” Ichigo demanded.
“Until you clear things up with Kanonji,” Tatsuki said pointedly as she ducked under the police tape strung around the area in front of the entrance, “you’ll just have to put up with the inconvenience.”
“Shit! I can’t believe that I can’t even go back to my own office because of him!” Ichigo ranted as they arrived at Tatsuki’s car, parked on the side of the road.
“Yes, well we’ve been over this before,” she took out her keys and tossed them from one hand to the other before unlocking the car door. “Get over it.”
“You do realize the guy’s a nut-case, right?” Ichigo climbed in, “There’s no reasoning with him!” He slammed the car door shut to emphasize his point.
“Well, that’s why people invented…” Tatsuki’s reply became muffled and indistinct as she also climbed into the vehicle’s interior. Moments later, the dark blue car took off down the busy street.
~*~*~
A dark figure walked into Onimaru’s abandoned flat through the east wall. She would have been here earlier to look for traces of her prey… but something very odd occurred. It was something that troubled her deeply.
The world Kuchiki Rukia walked through was neither completely real nor ethereal. It is a realm of lost souls, and she was just one of its many keepers. Her job was to guide the lost to their next destination, whether they were willing, or violently against it. Either way, her soul-cutting sword provided the final answer.
Rukia walked through the dead man’s corridor and cursed her string of bad luck. She wanted to be here as soon as she got word of it, but not only was she too late to save the victim, for a long period of time something kept her from entering the apartment itself.
She touched the table where the man keeled over his meal, bleeding from inexplicable wound right in front of his wife’s terrified gaze. If Rukia had been here sooner, she could have traced the killer. She should have been able to find the Hollow that did this.
However, there had been a spiritual distortion like none she had ever witnessed. Rukia did not know the source of it, nor did she know how to defend against it. She was not even able to enter the room without suffering the effects of the distortion field and it did not wear off until all of the humans had left the building.
By now the Hollow’s trail had run cold.
Rukia turned away sharply and signaled to the Hell’s Butterfly. She was loathe to return to Soul Society after a fruitless endeavor, but something far worse weighed on her mind. Perhaps the Hollows have developed a new way of escaping us, she wondered apprehensively.
And within the flutter of a black butterfly’s wings, Rukia vanished.
~*~*~
Chapter 5: Strange Happenings
The action heats up! (yes, I’m finally going to give a shot at action scenes ^_^;) The only thing keeping Ichigo from the truth is a Hollow and the only thing keeping the Hollow from ripping Ichigo to shreds is… uh-oh, Urahara’s gift. @_@
#4 thing that irritates Ichigo the most: Top 3 Lists.
I need to go back and edit the hell out of this. Sorry about some parts of this chapter… not very sorry about other bits though. For some reason, I liked writing the Rukia part the most. ^_^
Chapter 4: Transitions
Ichigo shifted uncomfortably. His legs were cramping up from standing so long in a stuffy, overcrowded subway train. He hated commuting; it was #3 of the top 3 things that irritated him the most.
#1 was crackpot fortune-telling…
“Oh-ho, what have we here?” the man in the seat that Ichigo stood by was enthusiastically reading the weekly tabloids aloud. “Don Kanonji organizes a protest against the police department and gets incarcerated overnight for inciting a disturbance. Ve~ry interesting!”
#2 was obnoxious people who talk too loud in the subway…
The man looked up from the paper and smiled at Ichigo, “What do you think about this?”
Correction: #2 was obnoxious people who talk to him in the subway…
Ichigo shrugged irritably, giving off the distinct air that he didn’t give a damn.
“Oh, but surely you must think something about it,” the man grinned, showing off his perfectly straight teeth. Ichigo suddenly realized that this weirdo wasn’t just some nutty homeless guy, despite the dusty black haori jacket, the unkempt stubble across his chin and the suspicious looking grocery bag held between his feet. The man continued talking in a sly, sugar-sweet tone, “After all, you are the recently-infamous Kurosaki Ichigo-san, am I right?”
Ichigo’s eyes widened and sensed that many of the nearby commuters were suddenly looking in his direction out of curiosity. His glared down at the sitting stranger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he growled through clenched teeth, “You must have me mistaken with somebody else, Mister.”
“Oh-ho,” the stranger’s clever smile never faltered as he tipped his green-and-white striped hat high enough to look Ichigo in the eye, “Perhaps I have, perhaps I haven’t… but since this is your train stop, I’ll give you a small parting gift and let you be on your way. That’s how it works in folktales, I hear.”
“Quit being so damn condescending,” Ichigo warned the man under his breath. This conversation was taking a disturbing turn. How did he know that Ichigo planned to get off at the station they were pulling into… was this freak stalking him? It seemed more likely that the stranger jumped to an obvious conclusion. After all, it was a large hub station that transfers into the Yamanote line; almost everybody would get off here during their morning commute from the suburbs.
The train doors slid open with an electronic voice intoning the station name. Dozens of clean-cut salarymen and well-dressed office ladies milled towards the sliding doorways like grey and white cattle. Ichigo hurriedly yanked his black bag from the overhead shelf and shuffled towards the exit, relieved to get away from the oddball who remained sitting in the fast-emptying train car.
“Don’t forget!” the man called out before the doors whooshed shut behind Ichigo. “If you’re ever in trouble like what happened in that old woman’s place yesterday, just use my gift!”
“What!?” Ichigo spun on his heel and suddenly rammed himself against the closed doors in a thoughtless attempt to get back inside, but he was too late. The man looked out at him and simply gave a cheerful wave as the train started to move.
“Dammit! How did you know about the apartment!?” Ichigo banged his fists against the glass doors, but it was too thick to break. “Have you been stalking me, you creepy sandal-hat weirdo!?”
Without any answers to his questions, Ichigo watched irritably as the train slithered away into the dark subway tunnel. He cursed violently after the stranger quickly disappeared from view.
It was only much later on that Ichigo wondered what the man had meant by the word ‘gift.’
~*~*~
Urahara Kisuke took full advantage of the emptied train car by stretching out his legs and propping his arms against the seats on either side of him. He allowed himself a luxurious, jaw-popping yawn before leaning his head back and resting it against the window. Since he went to such trouble to get up early enough in the morning to meet Kurosaki-san, he was still quite sleepy. Surely he should reward himself with a short, pleasant nap.
The large paper bag at his feet shifted and crinkled as a dark shape gracefully leapt out of it and landed on Urahara’s lap. He did not bother to open his eyes as he addressed the sleek creature, “I think that went splendidly. Don’t you think so, Yoruichi-san?”
“Not much for a first impression,” the black cat said dryly, glancing briskly around the empty car. “Are you sure it was wise to give him such a thing? He wouldn’t even know how to use it.”
“I’m sure he’ll figure it out if he really needs to,” Urahara smiled, cracking one eye open to look at his companion from under the shade of his hat. “He may not look it, but he’s very clever, you know. He picks up on things fast; very useful for a man of his talents.”
“I can see that his spiritual strength is indeed,” Yoruichi paused, thinking of a proper way to speak her thoughts, “not that of an average man. However, I do not see the need to meddle with his situation.”
“Yoruichi-san, I’m sorry to say, but sometimes you lack foresight,” Urahara grinned lazily. “I’ve watched Kurosaki-san grow up in my neighborhood since he was a mere boy. I’ve been patient and listened to your admonitions for far too long, you know. I won’t let such vast potential slip though my fingers.”
“You fall too easily into temptation, Kisuke,” Yoruichi sighed, her ears flattened against her head. “And perhaps I do lack some foresight, but I can see clearly enough what you have planned for him. How will you try to take him under your wing? I doubt he’ll be willing to learn from you. When he finds the gift you left him, he will most likely throw it away out of distrust. So in the end, this morning will prove fruitless.”
“I beg to differ,” Urahara reached behind Yoruichi’s head and rubbed her right behind her neck as a way to soothe his dear friend’s disapproval. “I’ve spent years on this investment. The way I see it, this little encounter is only the beginning of my real fun. Interesting times are ahead, my friend.”
“Do as you wish, Kisuke,” Yoruichi took the neck massage amiably, yet kept her warning sharp, “but keep him away from their attention, understand?”
“Yes, yes,” Urahara nestled his head to the side of his shoulder, trying to find a comfortable position to nap for the next few train stops. He yawned again, “For a cat, you can be awfully stressed at times.”
“For a human,” Yoruichi replied curtly, “you’re awfully laid-back at times.”
~*~*~
Ichigo looked up at the sign for the Shinjuku bakery, where Tatsuki said she would meet him. The name and flowery lettering seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite make a connection in his misused memory. He shrugged it off and entered through the automatic glass doors as an electronic tune for “Jingle Bells” signaled his arrival.
A young woman behind the cash register looked up as he entered and waved cheerfully, “Welcome to Hanayaka Pan, Kurosaki-kun! Long time, no see!”
He paused at the doorway, carelessly letting a cold gust of wind through the open doors and into the warm bread shop. How did this complete stranger know his name? It was the second time this happened in only half an hour. Did Dad scrawl his name on his forehead with black marker while he was still asleep? Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first time that pathetic prank occurred…
The woman kept smiling as if being happy was not an option, but a way of life. She waved him in towards the register, the red Santa cap bouncing on her head in a jolly manner, “C’mon in! Tatsuki told me you would come by today, so I reserved a seat for you both.”
Ichigo walked up to her slowly, racking his brain to put a name to the face. “…Um…”
“Inoue,” the woman with long hair and bright eyes giggled when she noticed his frustrated scowl. “Inoue Orihime – Tatsuki’s friend.”
“Oh, yeah!” his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yeah, I remember now, I… I just needed a second, that’s all. So, you work here?”
“Yup,” she said proudly, “I’m the owner of the whole building. It’s only 3 floors, but it’s a comfy place and I like running the bakery.”
“What, you own it?” Ichigo couldn’t help his skepticism, “Wouldn’t it be hard to build up a business this fast?” After all, Orihime wasn’t any older than him. He couldn’t imagine himself owning a building and running a store this early in life. Most likely, no one would want to give an orange-haired punk a business loan in the first place.
“It’s a l~ong story involving rat catchers, 2 game shows, a cruise to the Barbados with an Elvis impersonator, and an attempted popcorn poisoning at a Hollywood movie premiere,” Orihime shrugged. “But in the end, I got full ownership of this bakery – so it all worked out for the best.”
“Uh… right,” Ichigo silently wondered, What the hell has she been up to between high school graduation and now? It certainly doesn’t seem normal… or even believable…
Orihime ushered him towards one end of the shop, where a few booths were set up for customers to enjoy their meals. She pointed to the booth on the far corner, “Here’s the spot I saved. You can –”
“’Ey, missy! I ain’t got all mornin’!” A man in his late forties with a thick northern accent knocked on the register counter impatiently.
“My apologies, Onimaru-san! What can I do for you?” Orihime left Ichigo at the table and rushed back to work.
With the conversation abandoned, Ichigo took a seat at the reserved table in a suddenly dark mood. He had been telling the truth earlier; he really did remember Orihime as soon as she spoke her surname. However, the first memory that surfaced in his mind disturbed him.
It wasn’t a memory from their 3 years of taking the same high school classes, nor the handful of times he ran into her by chance during his days in college; not even that one time 6 months ago, when he was organizing Kanonji’s guest appearance on a comedy show and she had been a member of the live audience. Those faded memories trailed in after the first one, which came from a time far earlier than the rest but much clearer in his mind’s eye.
He remembered the day Orihime’s brother died. He was on his way to school when he saw the thin girl standing in front of the clinic, her school uniform caked with filth and blood. Her eyes had been so wide and lost, her body shaking violently under the burden of a wounded man.
“My brother… he’s, he’s in pain. Please help him. Please…”
“Please help yourself!” Orihime appeared by his table cheerily.
Ichigo forced the voice of the terrified girl out of his mind and looked up at the woman she had become, “No thanks. I’m not that hungry.”
“You sure?” Orihime tilted her head to the side, “Not even a snack?”
“I’ll have something when Tatsuki gets here,” he said calmly.
“Okay!” Satisfied that she did all she could to make him comfortable, Orihime walked off to assist another customer.
Gazing about idly, Ichigo noticed the black funeral tablet placed respectfully on a shelf on the wall behind the counter. His mind felt out towards it, wondering if the lingering sorrow of her brother’s soul still remained.
…No, nothing. There were no traces left. Her brother’s soul had passed on years ago, leaving no negative energy behind. That was a relief, since no one really wanted to be haunted by dead loved ones, right?
Except… Ichigo would give anything if he could have his Mom come back. Even if it was just as a ghost to haunt him into insanity, he wouldn’t mind. He deserved some sort of punishment for what he did…
With a frustrated sigh, Ichigo tossed his weather-beaten black backpack on the table and pulled out a handful of thick, pastel-colored pamphlets. He shouldn’t waste time brooding – he had plenty of stuff to do.
Twenty minutes passed working in silence before Ichigo glanced up at the sound of “Jingle Bells,” which heralded in another customer through the automatic doors.
“Tatsuki!” Orihime called out from behind the counter.
“Hey, Orihime,” Tatsuki smiled as she walked in, shrugging off her heavy overcoat as the warmth of the bakery hit her. “Is Ichigo here yet?”
“Over here,” Ichigo said from the far booth and waited for Tatsuki to make her way over.
She gave Orihime a short wave and a smile. Then Tatsuki plopped down into the seat facing Ichigo and shot him a glare, “We’ve got a problem. Several, actually.”
He rolled his eyes skyward, “Well, good morning to you too, Tatsuki.”
“Shut up. I’m serious,” she scowled. “I found someone reading through our ‘wild hit’ case files when I got to work this morning.”
“Who? Captain Kagine?” Ichigo leaned forward, lowering his voice, “Reporters?”
“Nope. Ishida.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly,” Tatsuki sighed irritably, “I chewed him out, but it seems that everyone in our department is convinced that he was just offering a little help – that damn liar,” she growled, “I hate it when pretentious pricks –”
“So, you decked him, right?”
This startled Tatsuki out of her rant, “Huh?”
“You punched his teeth in, right?” Ichigo insisted.
Her frown deepened, “I told you before, I’m a mature adult, dammit – I can’t cause any fights while the Captain has us under such close watch. I can’t afford to be demoted again.”
“Again?” he echoed. “Does that mean -”
“Shut the hell up.”
Ichigo easily changed the subject, “So Ishida’s going to try and gain access to our files again, huh. Maybe I should talk to Chad about this. Then I’ll go over to Headquarters and –”
“Not a good idea,” she interrupted.
“Why not?” he asked confused.
“Have you forgotten your adoring fans so easily?” Tatsuki quirked an eyebrow at him. “Not to mention that there are reporters out in droves today. Captain Kagine talked to me as I was leaving the office. He doesn’t want you around Headquarters until they can get the Kanonji Deadbeat Corps under control. Apparently, incarcerating the Don wasn’t the best idea.”
Ichigo bowed his head and put his hand to his forehead. He felt so tired already and it wasn’t even noon yet. “What else, Tatsuki?” he asked. “Any more shit to throw at me?”
“One last thing,” she looked away uncomfortably. “Ishida got a bit irate during our, erm, disagreement… He said that as soon as he gets home today, he’s donating your stuff to the homeless.”
Ichigo bit the inside of his mouth, fighting the urge to yell at someone – Tatsuki, Ishida, Kanonji, anyone; it didn’t matter who. He really didn’t like it when life conspired against him, especially since that seemed to happen all too often…
He took a deep breath, let it out, and stood up, “Let’s go.”
She looked up at him, surprised that he could keep his temper in check, “Where to?”
Ichigo picked up the brochures on the table and slid them in Tatsuki’s direction, “I need a place to stay before we continue working on the case.”
“Are you looking for something?” Orihime asked from behind Ichigo.
“Inoue!” He jumped and spun around. “Shit! It’s not good to sneak up on people like that!”
“Sorry, sorry!” Orihime smiled. “I was just wondering if you need any help.”
“Not much you can help us with,” Tatsuki waved the colored pamphlets in her direction, “unless you know of a good place to rent an apartment.”
“Well…” She tapped her index finger to her lips. “There is one place…”
~*~*~
“How come you didn’t tell me she moved out?” Tatsuki asked Orihime at the doorway.
“You didn’t like her, remember?” Orihime shrugged. “Just hearing about her put you in a bad mood.”
“Can you blame me?” Tatsuki crossed her arms and peeked inside the room, “She was a creepy old witch who had more dead cats than friends.”
Orihime shrugged, “She wasn’t so bad…”
Tatsuki sniffed the air distastefully, “Still stinks of rotten cat food…”
Orihime peered into the room over Tatsuki’s shoulder. Inside the small flat, Ichigo surveyed the interior. “What do you this, Kurosaki-kun?” she asked.
“The smell can be aired out,” he shrugged as he inspected the walls and floor of the one-room apartment. This was an attic flat, so due to the shape of the roof, the ceiling sloped sideways. Ichigo pulled back the curtain and wasn’t surprised to see a brick wall facing him. This building was at least 60 years old and post-war city planning had been a mess for the city of Tokyo. “There’s not much space between the window and the next building. Bit of a fire hazard.”
“Well, that’s how it’s always been,” Orihime’s smile was visibly nervous. The bakery got lonely at night and she certainly wanted to have a new tenant around to make the place feel more comfortable. However, no one ever seemed interested in renting it out before. Even Tatsuki preferred to live elsewhere, since there were so many bad points about the room.
“There’s no bath,” Ichigo noted as he opened a door and looked into the small water closet.
“There’s no bath in mine either,” Orihime laughed nervously. “Luckily, there’s a public bath just 3 blocks from here… erm…”
“Sugar-coating it won’t help much,” Tatsuki was already flipping through the pamphlet Ichigo had shown her, looking for a place that better suited him, “We should get going soon if you want to try and find an apartment by tonight, you know.”
“Give me a second,” Ichigo slowly walked the parameter of the room and then reached out to touch the wall. He closed his eyes and concentrated.
“Aw, shit,” Tatsuki tossed the pamphlet on the nearby desk and glowered at him. “He’s doing it again.”
“Doing what again?” Orihime asked, bewildered.
“Don’t ask,” she turned and walked back down the hallway grumpily, “Let’s just go downstairs until he’s done. I’ve already seen enough of his little exorcist act.”
Ichigo opened his eyes and snapped his gaze in her direction, “I heard that, Tatsuki.”
“Good,” she looked over at him. “Done already?”
Ichigo nodded, it didn’t take long for him to get a feel for the area. The entire building had an overwhelming sense of peace, which was odd for a place in the center of Shinjuku. Orihime’s optimistic nature seemed to permeate the walls of the old structure, clearing the air of psychic abnormalities without Orihime even being aware of her effect on her home. It was one of the few places in the city with so little spiritual disturbance, which meant that ghosts didn’t frequent here often - not even here in the attic. He wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass him by, “I’ll take it.”
Tatsuki and Orihime stared at him in open shock. “Really!?” they gasped in unison.
Ichigo shrugged, “Low rent, got an old friend as my landlady, and best yet - Don Kanonji wouldn’t expect me to live in a place like this.” Then he added sourly, “Plus, I hate apartment hunting.”
Tatsuki looked around the apartment with a far more critical eye than before, “Fine, fine, if that’s what you want, but –”
The ring of her cell phone cut her off. She dug into her coat pocket and brought it to her ear. “Arisawa,” she said. A moment passed, “Uh-huh.” Another moment passed, “Sure, we’re only 3 minutes away from 3rd street. What happened?” A shorter pause, “Aw… fuck.” She clicked off the phone and stuffed it back in her pocket. Tatsuki looked up at her partner, “We have another victim – some guy by the name of Onimaru who lived 2 blocks away from here.”
Ichigo’s reaction was as profane as Tatsuki’s had been.
Orihime looked up between her two friends, recognizing the name quickly, “Onimaru…? Oh, I hope it’s not Onimaru Hiroaki-san!”
Tatsuki blinked at her, “Orihime! You know the victim!?”
Orihime’s face grew pale, horrified, “Oh no… it can’t be… he was just here an hour ago.” She turned to Ichigo, “You remember Onimaru-san, don’t you? He has a northern accent, remember?”
Ichigo scowled. “Had one, yeah… I remember, Inoue. He was the impatient guy who was there when I came in,” Ichigo’s memory wasn’t faulty enough to forget such a recent event. Luck must have been on his side, because he remembered something else. “Inoue, do you remember an old lady by the name of Tachibana? She lived about a block away from here.”
“Yes! I know her! She’s very nice. She comes in every Tuesday and Friday to buy bread and milk and sometimes some pastry. She really likes the ones filled with strawberry jam even though it’s not very good for her health,” she smiled ruefully, still in shock over Onimaru-san’s death and trying hard to speak of happier things. The strain of conflicting emotions was beginning to show on her face.
“Was Onimaru-san a regular customer too?” Ichigo asked, though he already suspected what the answer would be. “What can you tell me about him?”
Her weak smile faltered, “Well… yes, he would come by on Mondays, Thursdays, and sometimes on Saturday when he wasn’t working at the construction site – he once told me he was an inspector, I think. He has... he had a mean temper, but I always thought that was his way of being interesting…”
Tatsuki’s jaw went slack from shock. She hadn’t realized the connection until now and it felt embarrassing that Ichigo caught onto it before her.
Ms. Tachibana had a bag of bread and milk in her kitchen, stuff she had bought from here, Hanayaka Pan… Tatsuki thought, It didn’t seem odd at the time since Orihime’s bakery is so nearby. This seems like a flimsy connection, but it’s the first one we’ve stumbled onto so far…
Ichigo pushed passed the girls, heading for the staircase, “We have to go now, Orihime, but we’ll see you later.”
“Um…” Orihime stood at the head of the stairs as she watched her friends leave, “What about the apartment? Should I prepare a boarding contract?”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll move in my stuff this afternoon. And, hey,” Ichigo grinned over his shoulder, “thanks for helping me out, Inoue.”
“No problem!” Orihime smiled back radiantly, though the edges of her smile were marked by sadness. Although she should be happy to finally have a tenant, all she could think of was Onimaru-san and the wife he left behind. It must be horrible to be a detective, she concluded. It meant picking up the pieces of dreams shattered by sin.
~*~*~
A corpse lay inside a derelict apartment in the heart of the Kabuki-cho district. No one knew that it was there. No one will ever know.
A heavy layer of dust and grime covered everything in the sparse apartment except the body, which was clean and clothed. It had a lanky and well-muscled form, and was laid out on a thin mattress in the middle of the empty room. It had the face of a handsome man, perfectly preserved in soulless sleep.
Without any warning or even the spark of an unearthly miracle, the heart of the corpse began to beat within its chest. The rhythm of the beating was constant and unwavering, as if it had always kept that cadence and nothing prevented it from doing so again.
The lips on the corpse parted as it took its first breath. The rush of air felt good in its unused lungs, so it took another deep breath. And then another.
Ever so slightly, the corners of its mouth turned upward. The corpse smiled.
Eventually, it opened its eyes and stared at the ceiling, carefully focusing its vision properly. It had been a long time and had long forgotten about human senses, so the body remained motionless as it carefully grew accustomed to all of its different attributes.
Sight, it inhaled musty air deeply through the nose, Scent. The body licked its dry lips, Taste, touch. It closed its eyes to concentrate on the noise of daytime traffic that filtered in from the road outside. Hearing… now, what was that 6th one…?
Ah, yes, the soul of the newly inhabited corpse spread out comfortably and sought the aura of its target, several miles away in another section of Tokyo. So that’s where he is…
The corpse, which was no longer a proper corpse but now a living man for all appearance’s sake, slowly stood up and walked over to the moldy wooden bureau. After a quick glance at the dusty mirror to straighten his clothes and run a hand through his hair, he grinned crookedly and snatched up a pair of keys which solely occupied the dresser.
He was eager to try out the vehicle parked outside. Neither his body nor his intruding soul had ever driven one before, but he had no choice but to learn quickly.
After all, things were about to get very interesting.
~*~*~
“…Mmm…”
“You sure? I’ve been asking a lot of favors lately…”
“…No big deal.”
“Thanks. We’ll see you at 4 to pick up everything.”
“…Okay.”
“Later,” Ichigo clicked off Tatsuki’s cell phone and handed it back to her. “He’s got it all covered.”
“Good,” Tatsuki pocketed her phone as she surveyed the scene one last time. They had arrived just in time to speak with the paramedics who had arrived on scene. Forensics came in not long after that and about another hour later, Onimaru’s corpse was loaded into the ambulance to take to the morgue. Ichigo and Tatsuki had collected all kinds of information from everyone on the scene, but the results were strikingly similar to previous ‘wild hits’: No forced entry, little sign of struggle, massive wounds, and according to the witness, no killer.
Interviewing the only witness had been the hardest part…
“I thought he was having a stroke…” Mrs. Onimaru was a woman in her mid-30s seemed to be the type of housewife who could have aged gracefully well into her 50s with only a few wrinkles along the laugh lines of her mouth and the crinkles by her eyes.
Unfortunately, the events of this morning put her in a state of shock and aged her features drastically. She rocked herself back and forth slightly, fidgeting on the couch as a female police officer sat beside her to give support. “He was talking – talking about everyday things… then he fell over in his chair and I-I got up and ran over to him but I… I saw all the blood on his back… and then the dishes suddenly… such a mess… everywhere…”
Mrs. Onimaru was bleeding from several light cuts on the palm of her hands, but she wouldn’t let anyone touch her and treat the wounds. Ichigo and Tatsuki later concluded that she had been trying to clean up the mess – her mind trying to focus on something mundane in her frenzied state of mind. Those who are afraid tend to cling to that which is familiar.
Unfortunately for Mrs. Onimaru, not everyone saw it that way. Her hands would be damning evidence if this case were left to anyone else besides paranormal investigators.
“Officer Fuji,” Tatsuki addressed the female cop, “please escort Mrs. Onimaru to the hospital and have her contact her relatives. Keep any other officers from interrogating her without permission from either my partner or myself – she’s been through a rough morning.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Onimaru-san’s widow was probably in the hospital by now, forensics was busy processing most of the immediate evidence in their labs, and Onimaru-san was due in for an autopsy. As for the deserted scene of the crime, Tatsuki and Ichigo stayed back to perform a different kind of investigation.
“So,” Tatsuki stood back towards the wall to give Ichigo all the room he may need to do his mind-thing, particularly if he got violently ill again. “What can you tell from everything so far?”
Ichigo sighed and gave her a sideways glance, “Gut reaction?”
“That’s what you get paid for,” she shrugged.
“Onimaru-san died peacefully, but his soul didn't go down without fighting back,” Ichigo shook his head with the barest glint of respect in her eyes. “He was tougher than his killer expected and there was a brief, violent fight–”
“- Spiritually speaking,” Tatsuki interrupted.
“Yeah, spiritually speaking,” he nodded, “That’s why the dinner plates and glasses started breaking – Onimaru-san and this poltergeist or ‘hollow’ or whatever it is left traces everywhere. So it seems that the killer hadn’t been able to make a clean kill this time. However, even with the traces I can see, it’s only enough to give me a rough idea of what we’re facing…”
“Which is?”
“Not much more than we already know. The killer definitely something that’s not of this world – it’s bloodthirsty and incredibly angry about something… I don’t know why, but I sense bitterness, regret, and… lots of guilt. That certainly isn’t from Onimaru-san’s spiritual traces, since he was radiating panic and fear – so it has to be from the killer,” Ichigo rubbed a hand to his forehead, concentrating. “What’s even worse is that we don’t have a clue as to what motivates this thing to attack these particular people…”
“We have one clue…” Tatsuki frowned, “but I can’t figure how the bread shop figures into the equation, except that most of the deaths have occurred within its vicinity and the two latest victims were frequent customers.”
Ichigo looked over at her, “We should ask Orihime if she recognizes any of the previous victims.”
Tatsuki looked as if she were about to protest, but she just glanced away, grumbling, “Sure… after I drop by the forensics department in the afternoon to see how the autopsy goes, then I’ll come back and have a talk with her.”
“I’ve got some time before I go see Chad about my stuff,” Ichigo said. “I could go talk to her.”
“No,” she said flatly.
“Why the hell not?” he bristled.
“Because it takes something called ‘tact’ – which you sorely lack,” she frowned.
“Ha! Like you’re any better?” he snorted.
“Better than you, at least,” Tatsuki grimaced. “Just leave it to me – it’s not going to be an easy conversation with her and I don’t want you messing it up.”
Ichigo rolled his eyes, “Fine. Whatever. Let’s go to headquarters together and then we can stop by Chad’s place to move my boxes out.”
“Actually, you should probably go to Shibuya by train and wait for me at Chad’s place,” Tatsuki said briskly as she walked towards the door. “I can’t bring you with me.”
“Why the hell not?” Ichigo demanded.
“Until you clear things up with Kanonji,” Tatsuki said pointedly as she ducked under the police tape strung around the area in front of the entrance, “you’ll just have to put up with the inconvenience.”
“Shit! I can’t believe that I can’t even go back to my own office because of him!” Ichigo ranted as they arrived at Tatsuki’s car, parked on the side of the road.
“Yes, well we’ve been over this before,” she took out her keys and tossed them from one hand to the other before unlocking the car door. “Get over it.”
“You do realize the guy’s a nut-case, right?” Ichigo climbed in, “There’s no reasoning with him!” He slammed the car door shut to emphasize his point.
“Well, that’s why people invented…” Tatsuki’s reply became muffled and indistinct as she also climbed into the vehicle’s interior. Moments later, the dark blue car took off down the busy street.
~*~*~
A dark figure walked into Onimaru’s abandoned flat through the east wall. She would have been here earlier to look for traces of her prey… but something very odd occurred. It was something that troubled her deeply.
The world Kuchiki Rukia walked through was neither completely real nor ethereal. It is a realm of lost souls, and she was just one of its many keepers. Her job was to guide the lost to their next destination, whether they were willing, or violently against it. Either way, her soul-cutting sword provided the final answer.
Rukia walked through the dead man’s corridor and cursed her string of bad luck. She wanted to be here as soon as she got word of it, but not only was she too late to save the victim, for a long period of time something kept her from entering the apartment itself.
She touched the table where the man keeled over his meal, bleeding from inexplicable wound right in front of his wife’s terrified gaze. If Rukia had been here sooner, she could have traced the killer. She should have been able to find the Hollow that did this.
However, there had been a spiritual distortion like none she had ever witnessed. Rukia did not know the source of it, nor did she know how to defend against it. She was not even able to enter the room without suffering the effects of the distortion field and it did not wear off until all of the humans had left the building.
By now the Hollow’s trail had run cold.
Rukia turned away sharply and signaled to the Hell’s Butterfly. She was loathe to return to Soul Society after a fruitless endeavor, but something far worse weighed on her mind. Perhaps the Hollows have developed a new way of escaping us, she wondered apprehensively.
And within the flutter of a black butterfly’s wings, Rukia vanished.
~*~*~
Chapter 5: Strange Happenings
The action heats up! (yes, I’m finally going to give a shot at action scenes ^_^;) The only thing keeping Ichigo from the truth is a Hollow and the only thing keeping the Hollow from ripping Ichigo to shreds is… uh-oh, Urahara’s gift. @_@
#4 thing that irritates Ichigo the most: Top 3 Lists.
I need to go back and edit the hell out of this. Sorry about some parts of this chapter… not very sorry about other bits though. For some reason, I liked writing the Rukia part the most. ^_^