Blood/Water: Chapters 9-11
I didn't get to review these chapters before posting as thoroughly as I should... but since I'm sticking to my weekly schedule... *shrug* *nail-biting*
title: Blood/Water: Chapters 9 - 11
genre: mystery, suspense, alternate universe
rating: T
word count: 5600 (for this installment.) Lots of interludes for this one.
warnings? Occasional swearing.
deja vou? Chapter 9 might seem familiar; it was the "sneak peek" I posted here about a month ago.
series summary: In the Commonwealth of Karakura, an innocent young woman is on trial for the murder of her sister. Ichigo Kurosaki, rookie inspector for the Metropolitan Police, feels duty-bound to investigate the case. What he doesn't know yet is that he's about to come face-to-face with the sordid, unscrupulous side of his beloved archipelago.
disclaimer: All Bleach names are the creation of Kubo Tite.
Blood/Water Prologue, Chapters 1-2
Blood/Water Chapters 3-5
Blood/Water Chapters 6-8
Interlude 8.5: At the Flower’s Edge Boarding House, District One, Rukongai
The air in the room was dark and stale, as if it had been left unoccupied and shut-up for too long. Momo was pleased to see that nothing among her small treasures was missing.
Momo had been on the move for several days now, and she thought she had lost them for good. She knew it wasn’t a good idea, perhaps, to return here, but there were important things she needed to take with her.
She did not notice that a figure was sitting in the far corner of the room. “What a pleasant surprise to see you here, Momo,” he said.
Momo’s smile faltered. “Why did you follow me?” she asked. “How did you get in?”
“Come on, now,” he said. “Why did you think you could escape? I told you to stay with the Kuchiki until it was over. Now you only draw suspicion to yourself.”
“I couldn’t stay there any longer,” she said. “The other staff -- they were suspicious of me. Please,” she was almost near tears. “I already did what you asked me to do. When are you going to release Renji?”
“As soon as it’s all over,” he said gently. “Come now. Are you saying you are feeling guilty? But you told Renji all about the Kuchikis, and he, in turn, told me. Don’t worry, I didn’t need to torture it out of him.” Her eyes widened at that unseen possibility, and her heart sank a little more. “Now, now. Renji only betrayed you because he talks in his sleep! Don’t cry. Don’t you think it was time to put Hisana out of her misery? She had been ill for so long -- and no one could suspect you of wrongdoing.”
Momo wanted to believe that insidious, reasonable voice. But she felt listless. She had seen people die under her care before, of course. As a nurse, she thought she was immune to it. She could only ease pain as much she could… but no one was there to ease her own. She felt ensnared, like an animal gnawing at a limb caught in a trap, and there was no recourse but to do what was demanded. “Where is Renji?” she asked, persistent. “It’s been almost a month. How do I know he’s still alive?”
“Oh, he’s still alive,” he reassured her. “I wouldn’t dare harm a strand of his red hair or else you wouldn’t do what was required.”
She felt wretched. A part of her didn’t want to believe him… but to not believe him was to know that Renji was dead, and either way she was an accessory to a horrible crime.
“I wanted to give you moral support, by showing up at the trial,” he murmured, continuing as if nothing was wrong. “But I fear you would feel threatened by my appearance, instead of encouraged.”
She turned away from him. She felt smothered by his overbearing presence.
“Let me prepare some tea for you,” he said, trying to be kind, but she was indifferent to the suggestion. She didn’t even have the strength to make a run for it as his back was turned.
He put the steaming mug in Momo’s cold hands. “Drink up,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’m not thirsty,” she lied.
“Do you think I will poison you too? Don’t be foolish.” He poured himself a cup and drank the tea down to its dregs. “See? Nothing there.”
Reluctantly, Momo sipped the fragant brew. Yet there was nothing wrong with it. In fact, it tasted like the tea back in the Kuchiki household. It reminded her of the Kuchiki tradition to have a special tea service on holidays, with water drawn up from the ancient family well in the courtyard. As the head of the family, Byakuya would insist on drawing the water himself, as the well was built by the first ancestor who dared lived at Seireitei instead of the Karakura mainland.
Momo could almost swear it was even the same tea leaves in her cup. She couldn’t help but feel better. It was comforting and it warmed her.
Sosuke Aizen smiled.
He didn’t know why he enjoyed toying with this young girl. She wasn’t even in his original plans, but when he saw her… he just couldn’t resist it.
In a few hours, Momo was going to die and she didn’t even know it. He was going to make sure they were the best hours of her deluded little life.
Chapter 9: Somewhere between the islands of Seireitei and the Karakura mainland
To say that Shunsui was irritated that his “date” with Nanao was ending on a sour note would be an understatement. Unfortunately for the strange man confronting them, he mistook Shunsui’s langour for indifference.
It was always a miscalculation to mistake Shunsui’s flippant manner for his real feelings. Such was the error the man with a gun was about to make.
“It seems to me that they got us cornered, Nanao-chan,” Shunsui said apologetically. “It’s unfortunate that our first date to Seireitei should end this way.”
The fear in her eyes was palpable. The problem was, Shunsui knew, was that Nanao was concentrating on the barrel of the gun pointing at them instead of committing their attacker’s physical details -- his height, features and distinguishing marks -- to memory. He would tell her in private later. When they got out of this alive.
If they got out this alive was not a phrase Shunsui ever contemplated. There would be no compromises on this one.
“Your boss is right,” the man smiled. His silvery hair glistened in the fading sunlight… and his smile. Perhaps it was the creepiest smile Shunsui ever saw on a human face. Assuming, of course, that the specimen in front of them was actually human.
“The problem with relying on the ferries,” the man had said earlier, by way of introduction, “Is that they are known to capsize in the treacherous China Sea.”
The stranger then smiled, his thin mouth growing into an obscene slash across the lower half of his jaw, as he twisted the neck of the oblivious ferryman before Nanao’s horrified eyes.
The clean snap of the neck is what woke Shunsui up. They were supposed to be alone on this ferry ride, after all.
Shunsui cocked an eye at the man with the silvery hair. Memorizing his details. Aside from the distinctive smile and the .45 in hand, the man had a spare gun that made a bulge in his left trouser leg, and probably a knife in the right one.
Shunsui hoped his Nanao-chan remembered page three of the Twin Fish Private Inquiries Ltd. Survival Handbook. It might be impossible to it pull off otherwise.
“Who are you working for?” Shunsui asked. “Surely it would be safe to tell us, knowing that dead men tell no tales.”
The man with the silvery hair chuckled. “I’m not falling for that,” he said. “You’re a wily creature, Shunsui Kyoraku. Are you trying to engage me in conversation, so that my attention is drawn away from your lovely companion?” The barrel of the gun directed itself solely at Nanao. “I think I’ll shoot her in the stomach, first. It seems a pity to hit her in the head. If she survives, you might still appreciate her beauty in a coma… that’s if I fail to kill you too.”
Nanao blanched. Her hands clung to the precious paperwork and held it tightly to her chest.
Shunsui, on the other hand, was almost relaxed. “If you want the papers, you can have it,” he said. “I have no use for them, just as I have no use for Nanao-chan in a coma.”
“How callous you are!” the man sneered. “No use for your girlfriend in a coma? You are less sentimental than your file claims.”
“On the contrary, my good man,” Shunsui addressed the man confidentially, looking squarely into his eyes. For some odd reason, he was reminded of dried persimmons and powdered green tea. “There is no beauty without motion. As the poet says, the wild swallow swims away with the prize as the cuckoo warms the nest.”
The hand holding the gun wavered.
In the split second the stranger was distracted by the nonsense rhyme, Nanao took her chance.
On cue, without looking back, she jumped overboard.
The papers in her arms flew out with the gust of her movement, creating a flurry of white in her wake.
The man with the silvery hair cursed and changed targets.
As he raised his hand to pull the trigger, Shunsui swung his arm hard into the man’s mouth, throwing his aim off.
The shot went wild.
Shunsui was not surprised to see blood -- but it slightly perturbed him that it was his own.
As he felt himself being thrown back against the side of the ferry, Shunsui considered his options in a hurry. Continue grappling for the gun and risk hitting the gas tank of the boat, or…?
Shunsui remembered Nanao’s foolhardy choice. “So long, jerk,” he snarled, as he threw his concealed knife into the man’s foot, neatly nailing his assailant to the floor.
The man screamed in pain as Shunsui dived into the waiting water.
Frustrated gunshots rained down from overhead. Keeping below the surface of the water for a long breath, Shunsui hoped he was swimming in the direction of the shore.
Interlude 9.5: on the second floor of the Twin Fish Private Inquiries Ltd. office
Something was bothering Rangiku Matsumoto. It wasn’t the unfinished stack of paperwork on her desk, pertaining to closed cases she had worked on before. It wasn’t the hum of forensic machinery that took forever in their processing, much unlike their fast-moving counterparts on the boob tube. It sure wasn’t the presence of her colleague, who was hunched over the laboratory table and busy comparing three different images on his computer screen.
“So what do you think of this case, Taichou?” Matsumoto asked, putting down the novel she was reading. She reached over to the next table to take a sip of tea from his cup.
Hitsugaya swatted her hand away automatically. He knew Matsumoto very well; she was just trying to get his attention. Her additional use of his old nickname -- it meant little boy in Rukongai slang -- clinched the situation. Reluctantly he tore his attention away from his computer.
“There’s not much to it,” Hitsugaya said. “If Ukitake had volunteered our services for a case that had multi-directional blood splatters to analyze, or perhaps the mummified remains of a man who died last year, maybe I’d be more riveted.” He felt a bit cantankerous about it. “I don’t know what Shunsui was complaining about… the phony land titling case is more interesting from an evidence point of view. It took us an entire week to figure out that all the signatures on those deeds were forged and that the paper itself was faked. Too bad he forgot to bring all the titles with him or the culprit could be charged by now.”
“I don’t know, I still think the Kuchiki case is a perfect crime,” Matsumoto yawned. “Crimes within the family usually are.”
“The only crime here, Matsumoto, is you not helping me analyze this data!” Hitsugaya grimaced.
“Okay, okay,” Matsumoto got up. She positioned herself right behind his wooden bar stool. She loved teasing him this way… “Tell me what you’re looking at now.”
Hitsugaya sighed, ignoring the grazing touch of large breasts behind his head. “Those are the three hair samples from Inspector Kurosaki… the first two are cross-sections of Hisana and Rukia Kuchiki’s hair.”
Matsumoto nodded. “These were used for the trial.”
He pointed to the screen. “The new cross-section might be Byakuya Kuchiki’s.”
Matsumoto giggled; she had a sudden mental image of the young inspector pulling on the eminent businessman’s scalp for a sample. “It’s totally different in shape and size from the other two,” she said, frowning. “Is that all you’ve got after sitting at that table for almost twelve hours?”
Hitsugaya growled. “The damn mass spectrometer isn’t done yet.” He had been on Ukitake’s case to get the latest model but the agency couldn’t afford it at the moment, so he was getting by with what they had.
“You’re just sore because you haven’t gotten to use the new thermal cycler,” Matsumoto teased.
He controlled himself from glancing at the gleaming new DNA analysis equipment. “So you say,” he said. Instead Hitsugaya glared at the old apparatus that was letting him down. At last, however, it resounded with a little ting. Almost absentmindedly, he hit the enter button on the printer.
They looked at the results printed on the page, and then at each other.
“Ouch!” Hitsugaya yelped as their heads bonked together, in their eager disbelief to refer back to the old results for Hisana and Rukia.
“That seals it,” Matsumoto said immediately. “I’ll tell Ukitake.” She rushed out of the room.
Hitsugaya didn’t hear her. He was already speed-dialing Inspector Kurosaki’s cell phone. “I don’t know what this means to you, Inspector,” Hitsugaya said without preamble. “But the results just came in. What you think is a sample of Byakuya Kuchiki’s hair has double the arsenic levels of both Kuchiki females. Either he eats the stuff like candy himself… or someone is still poisoning the clan.”
The stunned silence on the other end of the line was satisfying.
The Kuchiki case just got intriguing to his bright green eyes.
Chapter 10: At 15 Grandfisher Street, Kinogaya District
Ichigo couldn’t believe it. He was bowled over by the news. The technician’s advice still rang in his ears. “Maybe the whole Kuchiki household should be tested, but that might take too much time. Maybe you should wait for the autopsy report on Hisana Kuchiki. Twelve hours isn’t long enough to dig up the dead.”
Byakuya Kuchiki has twice the amount of arsenic in his hair.
That didn’t make sense to Ichigo. He was baffled. He wanted to make out that the man was the mastermind. But it would make no sense if he were still maintaining his immunity to arsenic if he already tidied his wife out the way and his sister-in-law was framed to take the fall.
Did something else kill Hisana Kuchiki?
Unable to solve the knot without the autopsy findings, Ichigo did the unexpected: he went home.
Ichigo wasn’t sure why he felt like going home. Maybe he was looking for inspiration. If inspiration wasn’t forthcoming, a good home-cooked meal would do.
Home was a small, pleasant building on the southeastern fringes of the Karakura mainland. It was not a beachfront property, but one could still smell the ocean breeze throughout the place. Adjacent to the family dwelling was the clinic his father ran for as long as he could remember. Being a workaholic, Ichigo had a shoebox apartment a stone’s throw away from the office, but it was merely a place to dump his laundry and crash for the night. Home was the place where sand perennially swept onto the floor, where his sister Yuzu took care of everyone, and where his father -- well! It was difficult for Ichigo to wax poetic for his weird old man.
“Ichigo!” Karin opened the door.
“How’s Dr. Kurosaki?” he said, ruffling the top of her head.
Karin grinned, lightly cuffing his hand away. “Not too shabby… I jus wish they made med school easier.”
“Karin!” Yuzu scolded. “Med school is difficult to keep out the lazy students who might kill people.”
“Oh yeah? So how did Dad get his degree?”
“Hey, I heard that,” Isshin boomed, as he ran to hug all his children. His flying leap across the room was easily blocked.
“Damn it, son, you didn’t have to hit my nose,” Isshin croaked. “Nice to see you here. So when are you going to bring your new girlfriend home, eh? I could do a full body examination for you, free of charge. We don’t want no strange rich heiresses if they have incurable diseases. I saw her photo in the newspaper beside yours, it was so dashing of you to save that old guy to get your girl’s attention -- ”
“Rukia Kuchiki is not my girl,” Ichigo growled.
“Yeah, yeah, doth the lady protest too much,” Isshin retorted.
“Whatever,” Yuzu said. “Ichi, you’re just in time for dinner. Can you set the table please?”
The table was picked clean of its spread, and Ichigo leaned back, his stomach content. Thank God it’s not possible to be poisoned by too many calories, he thought as he suppressed a burp. Or else I would have to register Yuzu’s cooking as a deadly weapon.
Karin was clearing the dishes while Yuzu was out in the pantry, clearly out to concoct a last-minute dessert. Isshin’s attention wandered over to his eldest, who rarely came home except when he craved his creature comforts.
Isshin eyed his son warily. Uncommunicative as usual, he noted. Knowing it would spark off some conversation, Isshin got up and patted around the pockets of his doctor’s coat. He found what he was looking for and brought the stuff to the table.
In less than a minute there was smoke curling from his fingertips. Isshin inhaled deeply. It was his first cigarette in almost a year.
“What are you doing, smoking around the house?” Ichigo came out of his stupor. “Yuzu is going to kill you. If a patient suddenly comes in, you’d lose your reputation as a good doctor.”
“I haven’t got much of a personal reputation to stake, son,” Isshin replied.
The smoke was getting on Ichigo’s nerves. Was Dad intentionally blowing it in his face? “I thought you only smoke one day of the year.”
“Well, I had to make the rare concession today,” Isshin said confidentially. “Two guys were snorkeling -- at least they said they were snorkeling -- and wham, suddenly I’m suturing one big hairy ass and another guy’s damaged pen--”
“I don’t really want to hear that part, Dad.”
“Tourists. They think they can do shit when they’re on vacation here,” Isshin rolled his eyes. “Be proud, son. This clinic is kept in business by all the stupid things people do on a daily basis. It’s the little things that kill more people, you know. For instance, did you know that a cigar has enough nicotine to kill a person if you accidentally ingest it? There was a toddler here a week ago, he chewed on his dad’s cigarettes and almost died. The stupid man didn’t know how to use an ashtray and he tossed his used butts on the floor. It’s the little things that add up…”
Ichigo was only half-attending to his father’s ramble when his eyes, focused on the lighted end of Isshin’s cigarette, suddenly snapped to attention. “What did you just say?”
“What?” Isshin said. “I said the cholesterol and the alcohol abuse and the daily pork intake that kills half the people around here… people who don’t put on sunscreen when they go out…”
“Before that, damn it,” he hollered.
“I said it’s the little things that kill people, my idiot son who needs to clean his ears,” Isshin yelled back.
Ichigo felt he was punched in the face with those words.
There was a box of Havana cigars on Byakuya Kuchiki’s office.
“That’s it. That’s it.” Ichigo grabbed his jacket and stood up. “Tell Yuzu I can’t wait for dessert, but I’m sure it will be great. I got to check something out now.”
Isshin watched his son whirl off so fast he might as well be moving at the speed of sound.
“Where’s Ichigo?” Yuzu demanded, carrying a tray with four servings of brownie a la mode.
“Sorry, dearest,” Isshin replied. “Your father was a bit too much help tonight.”
“Daddy, you better stub out that cigarette before I kick your ass,” Karin glowered as she threw open the windows. “It stinks in here.”
Isshin did his daughter’s bidding. “Yes, Dr. Kurosaki,” he grinned.
Interlude 10.2: In the water
Shunsui was panicking. He could not see her anywhere. Maybe this wasn’t such a bright idea after all, he thought. Maybe I should have taken on that silvery-haired guy even if it meant blowing up that boat. Maybe I should have…
“Nanao-chan, are you all right?” Shunsui called out as soon as the ocean let him spit out the words.
“Yeah,” she yelled back. “Just tired.”
Shunsui was relieved. She was within hearing distance. What he didn’t know was that she was tired from the effort of keeping afloat. She was out of practice. Her old swim coach would surely be shocked; she was in the worst condition for battling the elements…
“Nanao!” Shunsui bellowed once more. “Don’t fall asleep.”
The strong waters separated them, and frantically he tried to get closer to her, but the waves splashed him about and mocked his urgency.
The pull of the waves seemed ominous.
“Shunsui?” her voice was shaking.
She blinked. Among all the whitecaps, suddenly it was there.
“What is it?” God please let it be a fisherman, a tourist on a jet ski ⎯
“I think I see the shore,” Nanao said, and closed her eyes briefly. She would dearly love to faint with exhaustion against Shunsui, knowing he could probably bring her to safety on his back, but her pride couldn’t deal with the aftermath of such intimacy. Would it be right to let him touch her, all helpless and sodden?
In the back of her head, there was a resounding no that drowned out the soft, hesitant yes.
Sighing, Nanao pushed on, praying that her eyes did not deceive her.
Chapter 11: En route from Karakura General Hospital to the Met Office
Ichigo was almost back at Key Street when his cell phone rang. He felt defeated. It was too early in the morning to be feeling so down. He had just come back from hearing the official autopsy report. Yes, there was arsenic. But both the Chief Coroner and Ukitake’s man were puzzled when he had asked if they found traces of nicotine in either her stomach or liver.
“Of course not,” Ryuken Ishida immediately snapped. He was uncomfortable in the presence of the two other men who seem to doubt his appointed office. Ishida was unhappy to be dragged out of bed at midnight to oversee the autopsy at the hospital. But he would be damned before he let the Twin Fish people do it alone and claim all credit. It would be a sore point on his budding political career. “If it was nicotine poisoning, it won’t show up in the organs at all. It passes through the system too quickly.”
“It does, however, show up on the skin, doctor,” the other man chided him. “Come take a look.”
Ichigo was reluctant. He felt ill to his stomach as he approached the body and Akon, Ukitake’s pathologist, pulled off the sheet with something remotely akin to glee.
Hisana Kuchiki, Ichigo’s mind whispered, but his imagination burned with the image.
In that cold room, on that metal table, he felt like a failure, and it was the body of Rukia Kuchiki he saw that had come to reproach him in a state of decomposition.
Ichigo wanted to bang his head against a brick wall. He hated looking at the dead at all but a point had to be made. “She’s got all these abrasions and burn marks!” he exclaimed.
Reluctantly -- recoiling at the touch of cold flesh -- Ichigo turned over Hisana’s arms. The same odd disfigurations were present on her wrists and near her elbow joints.
“Small burns. It’s all over her legs and feet,” Akon said. “Not just her arms. Care to look?”
Ichigo shook his head mutely. “I’ve seen enough,” he said.
“Those inflamed areas are consistent with nicotine poisoning,” Akon explained. “I’ve seen a few cases, when I did some medical missions down south where they grow lots of tobacco. The leaves get stuck on wet skin and poisons the workers. It’s not something you’d expect to see on a Kuchiki.”
Ryuken Ishida pursed his lips. This was outside his expertise, and it pained him that someone else had to point it out to him.
“You asked about nicotine poisoning,” Akon added. “This nicotine wasn’t fed to this woman. It was applied to her skin… in high amounts.” He paused.
“Poisoned twice over,” Ichigo muttered, as his eyes tried not to linger on Hisana’s face. “This should not happen again.”
After thanking them, he fled.
He was still thinking about that when the continually ringing of his phone made his head ache worse.
Whoever it was, this couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time.
“Son!” Isshin’s voice roared over the line. “Wherever you are, get back here.”
“Not now, Dad, I’m busy,” Ichigo snarled over the humdrum noise of the sidewalk. He was about to click end conversation when he heard the phone being passed to someone else on the other end.
“Kurosaki, listen to your old man,” a tired voice said.
The inspector was shocked to hear Shunsui’s voice. “What are you doing there?” he almost yelped in surprise.
“No time for that,” Shunsui croaked. “Urgent. I can’t get a hold of Ukitake or the Shihoin at this hour. There’s a man on the move. Six feet tall, about 150 pounds, silvery hair and pale eyes. Evil smile. Fly at once, all is--”
Ichigo didn’t hear the rest of the sentence; there was a muffled contest over the phone’s receiver. The next thing he heard was his father.
“Forgive my newest patient, he’s a little bit delirious right now. I stitched him up nicely and gave him something to help him sleep it off. The girl’s asleep too. She’s not wounded, just suffering from exhaustion and over-exposure. It might develop into pneumonia if we’re not careful. People shouldn’t sleep in wet clothing, especially on the beach.”
His son was speechless, so he continued. “Apparently the boat they were riding was commandeered by some gnarly foreign fishermen.” Isshin chuckled at that cover story. “They jumped into the damn ocean and swam for two hours before they were washed ashore. I told them they were dumb--”
“Damn it Dad,” Ichigo was incensed. “I know them! Can they still talk? It’s important.”
Isshin scratched his head. “Health comes before crime-fighting, son,” he said reasonably. “I thought you’d want live witnesses instead of dead ones, that’s why Karin and I fixed them up first. Don’t worry, nobody else knows they are here… our nudist neighbor was the one who found them on his pre-dawn jog. I know Kon’s a freak, but he’s trustworthy.”
Ichigo heard more noises in the background, and then: “Oh, the girl woke up. She said that their assailant had a Rukongai accent… someone who moved to Seireitei. Then there’s something about data…” Ichigo was growing more impatient as more indistinct mumblings were said out of range of the phone. “She says Ukitake should know that the data is safe; she took the precaution of making digital backups. She says it’s got to be Aizen.”
Aizen? Why did that name ring some distant bells in his memory? “Thanks Dad,” Ichigo was about to hang up before Isshin interrupted again.
“Son, don’t be a fool. I’ll talk to them some more and put their valuables in the family safe.” Isshin paused. “And whatever this is, don’t get heroic and get yourself killed.”
A long pause on his own part: Ichigo couldn’t give false promises.
He hung up without replying.
Interlude 11.3: At the Met Headquarters, Key Street
Ichigo didn’t know what he was looking for, but he knew it had to be in Central Archives. Everything was here. He fled to the basement.
It was a pity he wasn’t paying any attention when Tatsuki tried to teach him how to use the damn database....
“Looking for something, Inspector?”
Ichigo whirled around, his fingers still poised on the keyboard.
“What are you doing here?” Ichigo grinned at Tatsuki, relieved. “I thought you were suspended.”
“No thanks to you, jerk,” she said. “But someone had almost wiped out the database on the one day I was gone, so the Superintendent decided to reverse my suspension. The Shihoin made him do it… she said she needed all case files of Inspector Abarai.” Tatsuki paused. “But I’m never going to cover for you again, ever. Now you do everything by the book, like the rest of them.”
Ichigo’s mind had filtered out Tatsuki’s long reply. Something she said triggered an odd sense of déjà vu but he just couldn’t place it. “What’s up with this Abarai fellow?”
“Apparently the guy went on vacation but never came back. Foul play is suspected, of course. But why our Chief Inspector is checking up on it is making me wonder,” Tatsuki said. “I mean, the guy belongs to the Seireitei outpost, he’s no business of ours. Do you mind?”
She elbowed him out of the way. Immediately, serial numbers of file boxes appeared on the screen within a few keystrokes.
Tatsuki disappeared for a few moments behind the stacks and came out with another box, identical to the one she had pulled up for Ichigo.
Without meaning to be prying, Ichigo mindlessly opened its contents. “Is this the inspector?” he held out a photo.
“Must be,” Tatsuki was about to agree, and then she paused, shocked.
“What is it?”
She sat down in a daze. “I saw someone here,” Tatsuki remembered. “The day you pulled up the Kuchiki case. Those eyebrow tattoos, and that red hair.”
Ichigo shrugged. “I don’t blame you. Anyone would remember these tattoos. They’re bloody awful.”
“You don’t understand,” she said. “Inspector Abarai was found floating off the shore of Rukongai. His was the headless body in the newspapers.”
Ichigo didn’t like the sound of this. “And?”
Tatsuki’s eyes betrayed her disquiet. This alarmed Ichigo more than her information, because Tatsuki was rarely scared of anything.
“They just found his head, it was buried at the bottom of a dry well,” she finally mumbled. “The lab guys upstairs just got back from Rukongai. They’re are all abuzz with it. Abarai’s been dead for more than a month.”
Interlude 11.7: En route from Key Street to 8th Street
Ichigo was on the move. He was heading towards the Twin Fish office. His walk was brisk, his eyes, paranoid. Every street corner loomed unknown assailants and would-be murderers.
He could not permit this to continue.
One of his good friends -- one of the bravest women he knew -- showed the first iota of fear he’d ever seen in her. An inspector he’s never met lost his head. Two acquaintances were attacked. An innocent woman was still in gaol, waiting to be judged and sentenced to life imprisonment, already condemned as guilty by the general public.
And Hisana Kuchiki’s death was still a mystery. Arsenic or nicotine… which was it?
Ichigo checked a sigh. It was probably both.
Why was everything spiraling out of his control?
Days like this Ichigo wished he had a partner to help out straighten things in his mind. He thought vaguely of barging back into the Penitentiary just to ask Rukia her opinion. She seemed to be so much smarter than him…. even if she earned her living by drawing cute pictures of bunnies.
What did Rukia tell him? Something about history: A lot of problems in the present can be traced to the wrong-doings in the distant past.
At the center of the problem was the poisoned body of Hisana Kuchiki. If he isn’t quick enough, Rukia would soon join her. Being condemned to rot in gaol was no better than being buried six feet underground. He could not allow that.
Aizen… Aizen…
Ichigo was racking his brains with this one. Aizen? Why was that name familiar?
Why was the name Renji Abarai familiar, too?
Ichigo felt his brain was swimming in a great murky ocean of detail; everything would come together if he found the right key. In the meantime, it all eluded him.
The Kuchikis may be known for the wealth, but some envy them for their beautiful complexion and glossy straight hair.
Momo was an expert at Chinese medicine and her herbal therapies eased some of Hisana’s pain.
I was checking out some strange goings-on over at Seireitei involving phony land titles. I was there for a week. Boring stuff, nothing like what you’ve got your hands on.
Byakuya’s hair samples tested positive for arsenic too.
The assailant had a Rukongai accent… someone who moved to Seireitei.
I saw someone here. The day you pulled up the Kuchiki case. Those eyebrow tattoos, and that red hair.
She’s innocent.
And then suddenly, like a neat row of sand dunes that stretched out from his mind to the gaol cell that kept Rukia Kuchiki locked away, it all came tumbling down with a single brainwave.
Ichigo Kurosaki wanted to shoot himself of not realizing it sooner. He was better off dealing with smugglers, after all. It may have taken him forever to figure out. But he now knew what had happened, how it was all connected… and possibly, why Hisana Kuchiki was really killed.
It was just in time. He found himself on the corner of 8th and 13th Street.
He burst through the front door.
Continue reading here... Blood/Water Chapters 12-13
Er... Unbeta-ed, as usual. XD Cookies and hearts to the kind ones who will point out mistrakes mistakes.
title: Blood/Water: Chapters 9 - 11
genre: mystery, suspense, alternate universe
rating: T
word count: 5600 (for this installment.) Lots of interludes for this one.
warnings? Occasional swearing.
deja vou? Chapter 9 might seem familiar; it was the "sneak peek" I posted here about a month ago.
series summary: In the Commonwealth of Karakura, an innocent young woman is on trial for the murder of her sister. Ichigo Kurosaki, rookie inspector for the Metropolitan Police, feels duty-bound to investigate the case. What he doesn't know yet is that he's about to come face-to-face with the sordid, unscrupulous side of his beloved archipelago.
disclaimer: All Bleach names are the creation of Kubo Tite.
Blood/Water Prologue, Chapters 1-2
Blood/Water Chapters 3-5
Blood/Water Chapters 6-8
Interlude 8.5: At the Flower’s Edge Boarding House, District One, Rukongai
The air in the room was dark and stale, as if it had been left unoccupied and shut-up for too long. Momo was pleased to see that nothing among her small treasures was missing.
Momo had been on the move for several days now, and she thought she had lost them for good. She knew it wasn’t a good idea, perhaps, to return here, but there were important things she needed to take with her.
She did not notice that a figure was sitting in the far corner of the room. “What a pleasant surprise to see you here, Momo,” he said.
Momo’s smile faltered. “Why did you follow me?” she asked. “How did you get in?”
“Come on, now,” he said. “Why did you think you could escape? I told you to stay with the Kuchiki until it was over. Now you only draw suspicion to yourself.”
“I couldn’t stay there any longer,” she said. “The other staff -- they were suspicious of me. Please,” she was almost near tears. “I already did what you asked me to do. When are you going to release Renji?”
“As soon as it’s all over,” he said gently. “Come now. Are you saying you are feeling guilty? But you told Renji all about the Kuchikis, and he, in turn, told me. Don’t worry, I didn’t need to torture it out of him.” Her eyes widened at that unseen possibility, and her heart sank a little more. “Now, now. Renji only betrayed you because he talks in his sleep! Don’t cry. Don’t you think it was time to put Hisana out of her misery? She had been ill for so long -- and no one could suspect you of wrongdoing.”
Momo wanted to believe that insidious, reasonable voice. But she felt listless. She had seen people die under her care before, of course. As a nurse, she thought she was immune to it. She could only ease pain as much she could… but no one was there to ease her own. She felt ensnared, like an animal gnawing at a limb caught in a trap, and there was no recourse but to do what was demanded. “Where is Renji?” she asked, persistent. “It’s been almost a month. How do I know he’s still alive?”
“Oh, he’s still alive,” he reassured her. “I wouldn’t dare harm a strand of his red hair or else you wouldn’t do what was required.”
She felt wretched. A part of her didn’t want to believe him… but to not believe him was to know that Renji was dead, and either way she was an accessory to a horrible crime.
“I wanted to give you moral support, by showing up at the trial,” he murmured, continuing as if nothing was wrong. “But I fear you would feel threatened by my appearance, instead of encouraged.”
She turned away from him. She felt smothered by his overbearing presence.
“Let me prepare some tea for you,” he said, trying to be kind, but she was indifferent to the suggestion. She didn’t even have the strength to make a run for it as his back was turned.
He put the steaming mug in Momo’s cold hands. “Drink up,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’m not thirsty,” she lied.
“Do you think I will poison you too? Don’t be foolish.” He poured himself a cup and drank the tea down to its dregs. “See? Nothing there.”
Reluctantly, Momo sipped the fragant brew. Yet there was nothing wrong with it. In fact, it tasted like the tea back in the Kuchiki household. It reminded her of the Kuchiki tradition to have a special tea service on holidays, with water drawn up from the ancient family well in the courtyard. As the head of the family, Byakuya would insist on drawing the water himself, as the well was built by the first ancestor who dared lived at Seireitei instead of the Karakura mainland.
Momo could almost swear it was even the same tea leaves in her cup. She couldn’t help but feel better. It was comforting and it warmed her.
Sosuke Aizen smiled.
He didn’t know why he enjoyed toying with this young girl. She wasn’t even in his original plans, but when he saw her… he just couldn’t resist it.
In a few hours, Momo was going to die and she didn’t even know it. He was going to make sure they were the best hours of her deluded little life.
Chapter 9: Somewhere between the islands of Seireitei and the Karakura mainland
To say that Shunsui was irritated that his “date” with Nanao was ending on a sour note would be an understatement. Unfortunately for the strange man confronting them, he mistook Shunsui’s langour for indifference.
It was always a miscalculation to mistake Shunsui’s flippant manner for his real feelings. Such was the error the man with a gun was about to make.
“It seems to me that they got us cornered, Nanao-chan,” Shunsui said apologetically. “It’s unfortunate that our first date to Seireitei should end this way.”
The fear in her eyes was palpable. The problem was, Shunsui knew, was that Nanao was concentrating on the barrel of the gun pointing at them instead of committing their attacker’s physical details -- his height, features and distinguishing marks -- to memory. He would tell her in private later. When they got out of this alive.
If they got out this alive was not a phrase Shunsui ever contemplated. There would be no compromises on this one.
“Your boss is right,” the man smiled. His silvery hair glistened in the fading sunlight… and his smile. Perhaps it was the creepiest smile Shunsui ever saw on a human face. Assuming, of course, that the specimen in front of them was actually human.
“The problem with relying on the ferries,” the man had said earlier, by way of introduction, “Is that they are known to capsize in the treacherous China Sea.”
The stranger then smiled, his thin mouth growing into an obscene slash across the lower half of his jaw, as he twisted the neck of the oblivious ferryman before Nanao’s horrified eyes.
The clean snap of the neck is what woke Shunsui up. They were supposed to be alone on this ferry ride, after all.
Shunsui cocked an eye at the man with the silvery hair. Memorizing his details. Aside from the distinctive smile and the .45 in hand, the man had a spare gun that made a bulge in his left trouser leg, and probably a knife in the right one.
Shunsui hoped his Nanao-chan remembered page three of the Twin Fish Private Inquiries Ltd. Survival Handbook. It might be impossible to it pull off otherwise.
“Who are you working for?” Shunsui asked. “Surely it would be safe to tell us, knowing that dead men tell no tales.”
The man with the silvery hair chuckled. “I’m not falling for that,” he said. “You’re a wily creature, Shunsui Kyoraku. Are you trying to engage me in conversation, so that my attention is drawn away from your lovely companion?” The barrel of the gun directed itself solely at Nanao. “I think I’ll shoot her in the stomach, first. It seems a pity to hit her in the head. If she survives, you might still appreciate her beauty in a coma… that’s if I fail to kill you too.”
Nanao blanched. Her hands clung to the precious paperwork and held it tightly to her chest.
Shunsui, on the other hand, was almost relaxed. “If you want the papers, you can have it,” he said. “I have no use for them, just as I have no use for Nanao-chan in a coma.”
“How callous you are!” the man sneered. “No use for your girlfriend in a coma? You are less sentimental than your file claims.”
“On the contrary, my good man,” Shunsui addressed the man confidentially, looking squarely into his eyes. For some odd reason, he was reminded of dried persimmons and powdered green tea. “There is no beauty without motion. As the poet says, the wild swallow swims away with the prize as the cuckoo warms the nest.”
The hand holding the gun wavered.
In the split second the stranger was distracted by the nonsense rhyme, Nanao took her chance.
On cue, without looking back, she jumped overboard.
The papers in her arms flew out with the gust of her movement, creating a flurry of white in her wake.
The man with the silvery hair cursed and changed targets.
As he raised his hand to pull the trigger, Shunsui swung his arm hard into the man’s mouth, throwing his aim off.
The shot went wild.
Shunsui was not surprised to see blood -- but it slightly perturbed him that it was his own.
As he felt himself being thrown back against the side of the ferry, Shunsui considered his options in a hurry. Continue grappling for the gun and risk hitting the gas tank of the boat, or…?
Shunsui remembered Nanao’s foolhardy choice. “So long, jerk,” he snarled, as he threw his concealed knife into the man’s foot, neatly nailing his assailant to the floor.
The man screamed in pain as Shunsui dived into the waiting water.
Frustrated gunshots rained down from overhead. Keeping below the surface of the water for a long breath, Shunsui hoped he was swimming in the direction of the shore.
Interlude 9.5: on the second floor of the Twin Fish Private Inquiries Ltd. office
Something was bothering Rangiku Matsumoto. It wasn’t the unfinished stack of paperwork on her desk, pertaining to closed cases she had worked on before. It wasn’t the hum of forensic machinery that took forever in their processing, much unlike their fast-moving counterparts on the boob tube. It sure wasn’t the presence of her colleague, who was hunched over the laboratory table and busy comparing three different images on his computer screen.
“So what do you think of this case, Taichou?” Matsumoto asked, putting down the novel she was reading. She reached over to the next table to take a sip of tea from his cup.
Hitsugaya swatted her hand away automatically. He knew Matsumoto very well; she was just trying to get his attention. Her additional use of his old nickname -- it meant little boy in Rukongai slang -- clinched the situation. Reluctantly he tore his attention away from his computer.
“There’s not much to it,” Hitsugaya said. “If Ukitake had volunteered our services for a case that had multi-directional blood splatters to analyze, or perhaps the mummified remains of a man who died last year, maybe I’d be more riveted.” He felt a bit cantankerous about it. “I don’t know what Shunsui was complaining about… the phony land titling case is more interesting from an evidence point of view. It took us an entire week to figure out that all the signatures on those deeds were forged and that the paper itself was faked. Too bad he forgot to bring all the titles with him or the culprit could be charged by now.”
“I don’t know, I still think the Kuchiki case is a perfect crime,” Matsumoto yawned. “Crimes within the family usually are.”
“The only crime here, Matsumoto, is you not helping me analyze this data!” Hitsugaya grimaced.
“Okay, okay,” Matsumoto got up. She positioned herself right behind his wooden bar stool. She loved teasing him this way… “Tell me what you’re looking at now.”
Hitsugaya sighed, ignoring the grazing touch of large breasts behind his head. “Those are the three hair samples from Inspector Kurosaki… the first two are cross-sections of Hisana and Rukia Kuchiki’s hair.”
Matsumoto nodded. “These were used for the trial.”
He pointed to the screen. “The new cross-section might be Byakuya Kuchiki’s.”
Matsumoto giggled; she had a sudden mental image of the young inspector pulling on the eminent businessman’s scalp for a sample. “It’s totally different in shape and size from the other two,” she said, frowning. “Is that all you’ve got after sitting at that table for almost twelve hours?”
Hitsugaya growled. “The damn mass spectrometer isn’t done yet.” He had been on Ukitake’s case to get the latest model but the agency couldn’t afford it at the moment, so he was getting by with what they had.
“You’re just sore because you haven’t gotten to use the new thermal cycler,” Matsumoto teased.
He controlled himself from glancing at the gleaming new DNA analysis equipment. “So you say,” he said. Instead Hitsugaya glared at the old apparatus that was letting him down. At last, however, it resounded with a little ting. Almost absentmindedly, he hit the enter button on the printer.
They looked at the results printed on the page, and then at each other.
“Ouch!” Hitsugaya yelped as their heads bonked together, in their eager disbelief to refer back to the old results for Hisana and Rukia.
“That seals it,” Matsumoto said immediately. “I’ll tell Ukitake.” She rushed out of the room.
Hitsugaya didn’t hear her. He was already speed-dialing Inspector Kurosaki’s cell phone. “I don’t know what this means to you, Inspector,” Hitsugaya said without preamble. “But the results just came in. What you think is a sample of Byakuya Kuchiki’s hair has double the arsenic levels of both Kuchiki females. Either he eats the stuff like candy himself… or someone is still poisoning the clan.”
The stunned silence on the other end of the line was satisfying.
The Kuchiki case just got intriguing to his bright green eyes.
Chapter 10: At 15 Grandfisher Street, Kinogaya District
Ichigo couldn’t believe it. He was bowled over by the news. The technician’s advice still rang in his ears. “Maybe the whole Kuchiki household should be tested, but that might take too much time. Maybe you should wait for the autopsy report on Hisana Kuchiki. Twelve hours isn’t long enough to dig up the dead.”
Byakuya Kuchiki has twice the amount of arsenic in his hair.
That didn’t make sense to Ichigo. He was baffled. He wanted to make out that the man was the mastermind. But it would make no sense if he were still maintaining his immunity to arsenic if he already tidied his wife out the way and his sister-in-law was framed to take the fall.
Did something else kill Hisana Kuchiki?
Unable to solve the knot without the autopsy findings, Ichigo did the unexpected: he went home.
Ichigo wasn’t sure why he felt like going home. Maybe he was looking for inspiration. If inspiration wasn’t forthcoming, a good home-cooked meal would do.
Home was a small, pleasant building on the southeastern fringes of the Karakura mainland. It was not a beachfront property, but one could still smell the ocean breeze throughout the place. Adjacent to the family dwelling was the clinic his father ran for as long as he could remember. Being a workaholic, Ichigo had a shoebox apartment a stone’s throw away from the office, but it was merely a place to dump his laundry and crash for the night. Home was the place where sand perennially swept onto the floor, where his sister Yuzu took care of everyone, and where his father -- well! It was difficult for Ichigo to wax poetic for his weird old man.
“Ichigo!” Karin opened the door.
“How’s Dr. Kurosaki?” he said, ruffling the top of her head.
Karin grinned, lightly cuffing his hand away. “Not too shabby… I jus wish they made med school easier.”
“Karin!” Yuzu scolded. “Med school is difficult to keep out the lazy students who might kill people.”
“Oh yeah? So how did Dad get his degree?”
“Hey, I heard that,” Isshin boomed, as he ran to hug all his children. His flying leap across the room was easily blocked.
“Damn it, son, you didn’t have to hit my nose,” Isshin croaked. “Nice to see you here. So when are you going to bring your new girlfriend home, eh? I could do a full body examination for you, free of charge. We don’t want no strange rich heiresses if they have incurable diseases. I saw her photo in the newspaper beside yours, it was so dashing of you to save that old guy to get your girl’s attention -- ”
“Rukia Kuchiki is not my girl,” Ichigo growled.
“Yeah, yeah, doth the lady protest too much,” Isshin retorted.
“Whatever,” Yuzu said. “Ichi, you’re just in time for dinner. Can you set the table please?”
The table was picked clean of its spread, and Ichigo leaned back, his stomach content. Thank God it’s not possible to be poisoned by too many calories, he thought as he suppressed a burp. Or else I would have to register Yuzu’s cooking as a deadly weapon.
Karin was clearing the dishes while Yuzu was out in the pantry, clearly out to concoct a last-minute dessert. Isshin’s attention wandered over to his eldest, who rarely came home except when he craved his creature comforts.
Isshin eyed his son warily. Uncommunicative as usual, he noted. Knowing it would spark off some conversation, Isshin got up and patted around the pockets of his doctor’s coat. He found what he was looking for and brought the stuff to the table.
In less than a minute there was smoke curling from his fingertips. Isshin inhaled deeply. It was his first cigarette in almost a year.
“What are you doing, smoking around the house?” Ichigo came out of his stupor. “Yuzu is going to kill you. If a patient suddenly comes in, you’d lose your reputation as a good doctor.”
“I haven’t got much of a personal reputation to stake, son,” Isshin replied.
The smoke was getting on Ichigo’s nerves. Was Dad intentionally blowing it in his face? “I thought you only smoke one day of the year.”
“Well, I had to make the rare concession today,” Isshin said confidentially. “Two guys were snorkeling -- at least they said they were snorkeling -- and wham, suddenly I’m suturing one big hairy ass and another guy’s damaged pen--”
“I don’t really want to hear that part, Dad.”
“Tourists. They think they can do shit when they’re on vacation here,” Isshin rolled his eyes. “Be proud, son. This clinic is kept in business by all the stupid things people do on a daily basis. It’s the little things that kill more people, you know. For instance, did you know that a cigar has enough nicotine to kill a person if you accidentally ingest it? There was a toddler here a week ago, he chewed on his dad’s cigarettes and almost died. The stupid man didn’t know how to use an ashtray and he tossed his used butts on the floor. It’s the little things that add up…”
Ichigo was only half-attending to his father’s ramble when his eyes, focused on the lighted end of Isshin’s cigarette, suddenly snapped to attention. “What did you just say?”
“What?” Isshin said. “I said the cholesterol and the alcohol abuse and the daily pork intake that kills half the people around here… people who don’t put on sunscreen when they go out…”
“Before that, damn it,” he hollered.
“I said it’s the little things that kill people, my idiot son who needs to clean his ears,” Isshin yelled back.
Ichigo felt he was punched in the face with those words.
There was a box of Havana cigars on Byakuya Kuchiki’s office.
“That’s it. That’s it.” Ichigo grabbed his jacket and stood up. “Tell Yuzu I can’t wait for dessert, but I’m sure it will be great. I got to check something out now.”
Isshin watched his son whirl off so fast he might as well be moving at the speed of sound.
“Where’s Ichigo?” Yuzu demanded, carrying a tray with four servings of brownie a la mode.
“Sorry, dearest,” Isshin replied. “Your father was a bit too much help tonight.”
“Daddy, you better stub out that cigarette before I kick your ass,” Karin glowered as she threw open the windows. “It stinks in here.”
Isshin did his daughter’s bidding. “Yes, Dr. Kurosaki,” he grinned.
Interlude 10.2: In the water
Shunsui was panicking. He could not see her anywhere. Maybe this wasn’t such a bright idea after all, he thought. Maybe I should have taken on that silvery-haired guy even if it meant blowing up that boat. Maybe I should have…
“Nanao-chan, are you all right?” Shunsui called out as soon as the ocean let him spit out the words.
“Yeah,” she yelled back. “Just tired.”
Shunsui was relieved. She was within hearing distance. What he didn’t know was that she was tired from the effort of keeping afloat. She was out of practice. Her old swim coach would surely be shocked; she was in the worst condition for battling the elements…
“Nanao!” Shunsui bellowed once more. “Don’t fall asleep.”
The strong waters separated them, and frantically he tried to get closer to her, but the waves splashed him about and mocked his urgency.
The pull of the waves seemed ominous.
“Shunsui?” her voice was shaking.
She blinked. Among all the whitecaps, suddenly it was there.
“What is it?” God please let it be a fisherman, a tourist on a jet ski ⎯
“I think I see the shore,” Nanao said, and closed her eyes briefly. She would dearly love to faint with exhaustion against Shunsui, knowing he could probably bring her to safety on his back, but her pride couldn’t deal with the aftermath of such intimacy. Would it be right to let him touch her, all helpless and sodden?
In the back of her head, there was a resounding no that drowned out the soft, hesitant yes.
Sighing, Nanao pushed on, praying that her eyes did not deceive her.
Chapter 11: En route from Karakura General Hospital to the Met Office
Ichigo was almost back at Key Street when his cell phone rang. He felt defeated. It was too early in the morning to be feeling so down. He had just come back from hearing the official autopsy report. Yes, there was arsenic. But both the Chief Coroner and Ukitake’s man were puzzled when he had asked if they found traces of nicotine in either her stomach or liver.
“Of course not,” Ryuken Ishida immediately snapped. He was uncomfortable in the presence of the two other men who seem to doubt his appointed office. Ishida was unhappy to be dragged out of bed at midnight to oversee the autopsy at the hospital. But he would be damned before he let the Twin Fish people do it alone and claim all credit. It would be a sore point on his budding political career. “If it was nicotine poisoning, it won’t show up in the organs at all. It passes through the system too quickly.”
“It does, however, show up on the skin, doctor,” the other man chided him. “Come take a look.”
Ichigo was reluctant. He felt ill to his stomach as he approached the body and Akon, Ukitake’s pathologist, pulled off the sheet with something remotely akin to glee.
Hisana Kuchiki, Ichigo’s mind whispered, but his imagination burned with the image.
In that cold room, on that metal table, he felt like a failure, and it was the body of Rukia Kuchiki he saw that had come to reproach him in a state of decomposition.
Ichigo wanted to bang his head against a brick wall. He hated looking at the dead at all but a point had to be made. “She’s got all these abrasions and burn marks!” he exclaimed.
Reluctantly -- recoiling at the touch of cold flesh -- Ichigo turned over Hisana’s arms. The same odd disfigurations were present on her wrists and near her elbow joints.
“Small burns. It’s all over her legs and feet,” Akon said. “Not just her arms. Care to look?”
Ichigo shook his head mutely. “I’ve seen enough,” he said.
“Those inflamed areas are consistent with nicotine poisoning,” Akon explained. “I’ve seen a few cases, when I did some medical missions down south where they grow lots of tobacco. The leaves get stuck on wet skin and poisons the workers. It’s not something you’d expect to see on a Kuchiki.”
Ryuken Ishida pursed his lips. This was outside his expertise, and it pained him that someone else had to point it out to him.
“You asked about nicotine poisoning,” Akon added. “This nicotine wasn’t fed to this woman. It was applied to her skin… in high amounts.” He paused.
“Poisoned twice over,” Ichigo muttered, as his eyes tried not to linger on Hisana’s face. “This should not happen again.”
After thanking them, he fled.
He was still thinking about that when the continually ringing of his phone made his head ache worse.
Whoever it was, this couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time.
“Son!” Isshin’s voice roared over the line. “Wherever you are, get back here.”
“Not now, Dad, I’m busy,” Ichigo snarled over the humdrum noise of the sidewalk. He was about to click end conversation when he heard the phone being passed to someone else on the other end.
“Kurosaki, listen to your old man,” a tired voice said.
The inspector was shocked to hear Shunsui’s voice. “What are you doing there?” he almost yelped in surprise.
“No time for that,” Shunsui croaked. “Urgent. I can’t get a hold of Ukitake or the Shihoin at this hour. There’s a man on the move. Six feet tall, about 150 pounds, silvery hair and pale eyes. Evil smile. Fly at once, all is--”
Ichigo didn’t hear the rest of the sentence; there was a muffled contest over the phone’s receiver. The next thing he heard was his father.
“Forgive my newest patient, he’s a little bit delirious right now. I stitched him up nicely and gave him something to help him sleep it off. The girl’s asleep too. She’s not wounded, just suffering from exhaustion and over-exposure. It might develop into pneumonia if we’re not careful. People shouldn’t sleep in wet clothing, especially on the beach.”
His son was speechless, so he continued. “Apparently the boat they were riding was commandeered by some gnarly foreign fishermen.” Isshin chuckled at that cover story. “They jumped into the damn ocean and swam for two hours before they were washed ashore. I told them they were dumb--”
“Damn it Dad,” Ichigo was incensed. “I know them! Can they still talk? It’s important.”
Isshin scratched his head. “Health comes before crime-fighting, son,” he said reasonably. “I thought you’d want live witnesses instead of dead ones, that’s why Karin and I fixed them up first. Don’t worry, nobody else knows they are here… our nudist neighbor was the one who found them on his pre-dawn jog. I know Kon’s a freak, but he’s trustworthy.”
Ichigo heard more noises in the background, and then: “Oh, the girl woke up. She said that their assailant had a Rukongai accent… someone who moved to Seireitei. Then there’s something about data…” Ichigo was growing more impatient as more indistinct mumblings were said out of range of the phone. “She says Ukitake should know that the data is safe; she took the precaution of making digital backups. She says it’s got to be Aizen.”
Aizen? Why did that name ring some distant bells in his memory? “Thanks Dad,” Ichigo was about to hang up before Isshin interrupted again.
“Son, don’t be a fool. I’ll talk to them some more and put their valuables in the family safe.” Isshin paused. “And whatever this is, don’t get heroic and get yourself killed.”
A long pause on his own part: Ichigo couldn’t give false promises.
He hung up without replying.
Interlude 11.3: At the Met Headquarters, Key Street
Ichigo didn’t know what he was looking for, but he knew it had to be in Central Archives. Everything was here. He fled to the basement.
It was a pity he wasn’t paying any attention when Tatsuki tried to teach him how to use the damn database....
“Looking for something, Inspector?”
Ichigo whirled around, his fingers still poised on the keyboard.
“What are you doing here?” Ichigo grinned at Tatsuki, relieved. “I thought you were suspended.”
“No thanks to you, jerk,” she said. “But someone had almost wiped out the database on the one day I was gone, so the Superintendent decided to reverse my suspension. The Shihoin made him do it… she said she needed all case files of Inspector Abarai.” Tatsuki paused. “But I’m never going to cover for you again, ever. Now you do everything by the book, like the rest of them.”
Ichigo’s mind had filtered out Tatsuki’s long reply. Something she said triggered an odd sense of déjà vu but he just couldn’t place it. “What’s up with this Abarai fellow?”
“Apparently the guy went on vacation but never came back. Foul play is suspected, of course. But why our Chief Inspector is checking up on it is making me wonder,” Tatsuki said. “I mean, the guy belongs to the Seireitei outpost, he’s no business of ours. Do you mind?”
She elbowed him out of the way. Immediately, serial numbers of file boxes appeared on the screen within a few keystrokes.
Tatsuki disappeared for a few moments behind the stacks and came out with another box, identical to the one she had pulled up for Ichigo.
Without meaning to be prying, Ichigo mindlessly opened its contents. “Is this the inspector?” he held out a photo.
“Must be,” Tatsuki was about to agree, and then she paused, shocked.
“What is it?”
She sat down in a daze. “I saw someone here,” Tatsuki remembered. “The day you pulled up the Kuchiki case. Those eyebrow tattoos, and that red hair.”
Ichigo shrugged. “I don’t blame you. Anyone would remember these tattoos. They’re bloody awful.”
“You don’t understand,” she said. “Inspector Abarai was found floating off the shore of Rukongai. His was the headless body in the newspapers.”
Ichigo didn’t like the sound of this. “And?”
Tatsuki’s eyes betrayed her disquiet. This alarmed Ichigo more than her information, because Tatsuki was rarely scared of anything.
“They just found his head, it was buried at the bottom of a dry well,” she finally mumbled. “The lab guys upstairs just got back from Rukongai. They’re are all abuzz with it. Abarai’s been dead for more than a month.”
Interlude 11.7: En route from Key Street to 8th Street
Ichigo was on the move. He was heading towards the Twin Fish office. His walk was brisk, his eyes, paranoid. Every street corner loomed unknown assailants and would-be murderers.
He could not permit this to continue.
One of his good friends -- one of the bravest women he knew -- showed the first iota of fear he’d ever seen in her. An inspector he’s never met lost his head. Two acquaintances were attacked. An innocent woman was still in gaol, waiting to be judged and sentenced to life imprisonment, already condemned as guilty by the general public.
And Hisana Kuchiki’s death was still a mystery. Arsenic or nicotine… which was it?
Ichigo checked a sigh. It was probably both.
Why was everything spiraling out of his control?
Days like this Ichigo wished he had a partner to help out straighten things in his mind. He thought vaguely of barging back into the Penitentiary just to ask Rukia her opinion. She seemed to be so much smarter than him…. even if she earned her living by drawing cute pictures of bunnies.
What did Rukia tell him? Something about history: A lot of problems in the present can be traced to the wrong-doings in the distant past.
At the center of the problem was the poisoned body of Hisana Kuchiki. If he isn’t quick enough, Rukia would soon join her. Being condemned to rot in gaol was no better than being buried six feet underground. He could not allow that.
Aizen… Aizen…
Ichigo was racking his brains with this one. Aizen? Why was that name familiar?
Why was the name Renji Abarai familiar, too?
Ichigo felt his brain was swimming in a great murky ocean of detail; everything would come together if he found the right key. In the meantime, it all eluded him.
The Kuchikis may be known for the wealth, but some envy them for their beautiful complexion and glossy straight hair.
Momo was an expert at Chinese medicine and her herbal therapies eased some of Hisana’s pain.
I was checking out some strange goings-on over at Seireitei involving phony land titles. I was there for a week. Boring stuff, nothing like what you’ve got your hands on.
Byakuya’s hair samples tested positive for arsenic too.
The assailant had a Rukongai accent… someone who moved to Seireitei.
I saw someone here. The day you pulled up the Kuchiki case. Those eyebrow tattoos, and that red hair.
She’s innocent.
And then suddenly, like a neat row of sand dunes that stretched out from his mind to the gaol cell that kept Rukia Kuchiki locked away, it all came tumbling down with a single brainwave.
Ichigo Kurosaki wanted to shoot himself of not realizing it sooner. He was better off dealing with smugglers, after all. It may have taken him forever to figure out. But he now knew what had happened, how it was all connected… and possibly, why Hisana Kuchiki was really killed.
It was just in time. He found himself on the corner of 8th and 13th Street.
He burst through the front door.
Continue reading here... Blood/Water Chapters 12-13
Er... Unbeta-ed, as usual. XD Cookies and hearts to the kind ones who will point out mistrakes mistakes.