[Yami no Matsuei] Angels are Not Kind (PG-13)
Author's Note: Written for tamingthemuse's #376 - Retribution. Set pre-canon, and dealing with how Saki Ended Up That Way. Medical strangeness and Muraki strangeness.
"Master, there's been a terrible accident," the elder Sakaki said, entering Yukitaka Muraki's bed sitter, in the north wing of the mansion.
Yukitaka pulled himself higher on his pillows. "What do you mean?"
The servant turned his gaze to the floor. "Your late son's heir...."
"Which one?" Yukitaka snapped. "I settled the matter: Kazutaka is the rightful heir, not that by-blow my useless son got on the wrong side of the blanket."
"As you insist, sir: these legal matters confuse me," Sakaki replied. "It's Saki-kun... He was trying to attack Kazutaka-kun. I thought at first a thief had broken in and attacked him, and so I had to resort to extreme measures."
"Did you kill him?" Yukitaka asked. He could not help but feel a sense of relief: it would settle the whole matter of which of his grandsons was the rightful heir to the family estate.
"He's gravely injured," Sakaki replied. "I shot him in the back. Satomi-sensei is tending to his wounds, but he says the young man won't last the night."
"Leave him to Satomi. What about Kazutaka-kun?" he asked.
"He's resting, he's under sedation: he had a terrible fright and it shattered his nerves," Sakaki replied.
"The rightful heir always was a sensitive child, and he's been through enough the past few weeks," Yukitaka noted, thinking of the youth's father's mysterious death, and then the equally strange demise of his mother, Yukitaka's daughter. "Send for my lawyer, I need to have some papers drawn up."
Sakaki raised an eyebrow. "Regarding what, master?"
"The imminent demise of Shidou Saki. Whether he survives or not, I will have his name struck from the family register," Yukitaka replied.
Sakaki pondered this, then bowed to his master. "As you wish, sir," he said and left the room.
It was not quite as he had hoped, but for once, tragedy had served its purpose. His rightful heir, the descendant of his dark angel in the flesh, would take his place on the family tree, as the next successor to the family name. The cuckoo that Shidou Yuri had brought into the family nest had paid with his life, when he sought to destroy the life of the heir.
* * * *
Fifteen Years later....
Satomi's perpetually nervous voice sounded even more wavery on the phone. "Kazutaka-kun, there's something you need to come to Kyoto about."
"Regarding?" Muraki said, leaning back in his chair, the handset of his office phone to his ear.
"It's about your half-brother..."
"Saki...?" Muraki asked, a cold feeling like a runnel of ice water running down the back of his neck, stopping before it reached the base of his spine. "Saki is dead: the elder Sakaki shot him to protect me."
"No, I'm afraid... he's still alive. He's been in a coma for the past fifteen years, though I have... made use of him.
"Define 'made use'?" Muraki asked.
"That isolation and life support tank I developed, for storing transplant organs long term... after the animal trials, I used him as a human subject," Satomi admitted.
Muraki emitted a dry cough of a laugh. "I shall have to see this for myself," he said. "Please tell me that there's at least part of him left intact?"
"Mostly a head and a spine: I have those linked to a heart-lung machine. He's still comatose, going by his brain scans, but... he does rise to consciousness briefly from time to time," Satomi replied.
"That's all I need to hear. I'll find a locum as soon as I can, and I'll come down to Kyoto once he's settled," Muraki replied, reaching for his address book and flipping through it.
"I shan't keep you, then," Satomi replied, hanging up.
Once Muraki had hung up, he looked to one of the photographs on his desk, a yellowed black and white print of himself, at the age of ten, sitting perched on his grandfather's knee, the old man with a hand on his small shoulder, the both of them looking into the camera, his younger self bright eyed and innocent, his grandfather, chin lifted, beaming with pride. Beside them, in the second leaf of the double frame, was his graduation portrait, himself and Sakuraiji Ukyou, his sweetheart, he looking into the camera with a quiet confidence, she peering at it with a nervous smile. "You will be avenged, my love; I shall find a way to take the one who harmed us both and wring the last drops of the price he owes."
"Master, there's been a terrible accident," the elder Sakaki said, entering Yukitaka Muraki's bed sitter, in the north wing of the mansion.
Yukitaka pulled himself higher on his pillows. "What do you mean?"
The servant turned his gaze to the floor. "Your late son's heir...."
"Which one?" Yukitaka snapped. "I settled the matter: Kazutaka is the rightful heir, not that by-blow my useless son got on the wrong side of the blanket."
"As you insist, sir: these legal matters confuse me," Sakaki replied. "It's Saki-kun... He was trying to attack Kazutaka-kun. I thought at first a thief had broken in and attacked him, and so I had to resort to extreme measures."
"Did you kill him?" Yukitaka asked. He could not help but feel a sense of relief: it would settle the whole matter of which of his grandsons was the rightful heir to the family estate.
"He's gravely injured," Sakaki replied. "I shot him in the back. Satomi-sensei is tending to his wounds, but he says the young man won't last the night."
"Leave him to Satomi. What about Kazutaka-kun?" he asked.
"He's resting, he's under sedation: he had a terrible fright and it shattered his nerves," Sakaki replied.
"The rightful heir always was a sensitive child, and he's been through enough the past few weeks," Yukitaka noted, thinking of the youth's father's mysterious death, and then the equally strange demise of his mother, Yukitaka's daughter. "Send for my lawyer, I need to have some papers drawn up."
Sakaki raised an eyebrow. "Regarding what, master?"
"The imminent demise of Shidou Saki. Whether he survives or not, I will have his name struck from the family register," Yukitaka replied.
Sakaki pondered this, then bowed to his master. "As you wish, sir," he said and left the room.
It was not quite as he had hoped, but for once, tragedy had served its purpose. His rightful heir, the descendant of his dark angel in the flesh, would take his place on the family tree, as the next successor to the family name. The cuckoo that Shidou Yuri had brought into the family nest had paid with his life, when he sought to destroy the life of the heir.
* * * *
Fifteen Years later....
Satomi's perpetually nervous voice sounded even more wavery on the phone. "Kazutaka-kun, there's something you need to come to Kyoto about."
"Regarding?" Muraki said, leaning back in his chair, the handset of his office phone to his ear.
"It's about your half-brother..."
"Saki...?" Muraki asked, a cold feeling like a runnel of ice water running down the back of his neck, stopping before it reached the base of his spine. "Saki is dead: the elder Sakaki shot him to protect me."
"No, I'm afraid... he's still alive. He's been in a coma for the past fifteen years, though I have... made use of him.
"Define 'made use'?" Muraki asked.
"That isolation and life support tank I developed, for storing transplant organs long term... after the animal trials, I used him as a human subject," Satomi admitted.
Muraki emitted a dry cough of a laugh. "I shall have to see this for myself," he said. "Please tell me that there's at least part of him left intact?"
"Mostly a head and a spine: I have those linked to a heart-lung machine. He's still comatose, going by his brain scans, but... he does rise to consciousness briefly from time to time," Satomi replied.
"That's all I need to hear. I'll find a locum as soon as I can, and I'll come down to Kyoto once he's settled," Muraki replied, reaching for his address book and flipping through it.
"I shan't keep you, then," Satomi replied, hanging up.
Once Muraki had hung up, he looked to one of the photographs on his desk, a yellowed black and white print of himself, at the age of ten, sitting perched on his grandfather's knee, the old man with a hand on his small shoulder, the both of them looking into the camera, his younger self bright eyed and innocent, his grandfather, chin lifted, beaming with pride. Beside them, in the second leaf of the double frame, was his graduation portrait, himself and Sakuraiji Ukyou, his sweetheart, he looking into the camera with a quiet confidence, she peering at it with a nervous smile. "You will be avenged, my love; I shall find a way to take the one who harmed us both and wring the last drops of the price he owes."