Blood/Water: Chapters 3-5
Hello. It's a few minutes past midnight. Hmm. Before I get distracted by real life stuff again, here's something for your reading pleasure (hopefully it's a pleasure, and not a pain.) This is a rather long installment, so kick back, relax, and munch on your popcorn.
title: Blood/Water (3-5/15)
genre: mystery, suspense, alternate universe
rating: T
word count: 7200+ (this installment)
warnings? I just realized that Ichigo swears a bit in these chapters. Heh.
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.
A handy link in case you missed it: Blood/Water: Prologue Chapters 1-2
Chapter 3: At the Twin Fish Private Inquiries Ltd., on the corner of 8th and 13th Streets, Kita-Kawase District
His office door shot open. The head of the firm knew a lot of people who were fond of dramatic entrances but this one had a definite flair for it: Ichigo Kurosaki. It wasn’t just the shock of orange hair that erupted from his head, but the scowling forehead that went with it. It was a balmy afternoon, and unlike any other young professional slacking off on the job to go to the beach, this specimen looked like he was only fit to pop his frontal vein due to stress.
Ukitake seemed almost too pleased to see him. “Why, it’s our prodigal intern. I’ve been trying to contact you! There was a favor I wanted to ask-”
“Tell me Ukitake… why do people kill?” Ichigo interrupted as he plopped unceremoniously into the visitor’s chair.
The man behind the teak desk coughed gently and put away the documents he was reading. Ukitake knew why he was here, but he played along. Kurosaki was not the only rookie policeman on the force who crawled back to his office for guidance. “Well, self-preservation is often the most common reason for people to justify violence against-”
“Why, Kurosaki, if you haven’t figured that out yet, Ukitake should have fired you,” drawled Shunsui Kyoraku, who had barged into his partner’s office. “Thank God you left on your own. What sort of havoc you’ve been doing at the Met since you left us? I tremble to think.”
Ukitake scratched his head. “Why Shunsui! Are you back from your stint in rehab so soon?”
“Came straight from the ferry ride,” Shunsui grinned. “I wanted to see my Nanao-chan and tell her that I’m sober now.”
“Sober?” Ichigo was stunned by that news more than by Shunsui’s good-natured insults. He studied the dapper man standing before them. Dressed in an impeccable suit, the gaudy pink cravat Shunsui wore rather destroyed the outfit. It also rendered him a conspicuous private investigator. “You? Cut cold turkey? Is that even possible?”
The two older men looked at each other and burst into laughter.
Shunsui sank into the chair opposite the young inspector. “Ukitake’s kidding! I was checking out some strange goings-on over at Seireitei involving phony land titles. I was there for a week. Boring stuff, compared to what you’ve got your fingers on.”
“I haven’t gotten my fingers around anyone!” Ichigo growled. “I just want to see if someone on the force overlooked some clue.”
“Now, now,” Ukitake made soothing noises. “That Rukia Kuchiki is a pretty girl but surely Kurosaki here has only the best intentions. I’m happy you’re taking an interest in her case. We read about your involvement in yesterday’s smash-up. It was in the news.” Ichigo refused to blush and so the white-haired private investigator went on. “Regarding your question, people do kill for many reasons. Some people will do anything to protect themselves, what is theirs, and what they believe is rightfully theirs. In the case of Hisana Kuchiki, she’s an innocent victim, no doubt.”
“No one deserves to be poisoned,” Ichigo muttered.
“That is if she was indeed poisoned,” Ukitake said. “Look. I know you’re quite new to be handling a murder investigation. It’s not your forte yet.” Ichigo nodded sullenly. For some reason, his boss always assigned him to check out smugglers and apprehend rapists. “And you didn’t do the initial investigation.”
“Are you leading me up a tree here?”
“Be patient, Kurosaki.” Ukitake was clearly warming up to his role. “You need to double-check every step the inspector before you made. This may get you into trouble if you’re not actually assigned to the case. Also, you need to know that the Kuchiki family has some secrets to hide, and more importantly, a lot of enemies.”
“You think someone would murder Hisana Kuchiki to get back at the family?” Ichigo was interested.
“It’s not farfetched,” Ukitake answered. “It would be difficult to prove, though, especially if it’s a professional hit. You might be looking for a culprit who’s fled overseas.”
A groan involuntarily escaped Ichigo’s throat. “And Byakuya Kuchiki is known to have business interests in Taiwan, Japan, and the Philippines.”
Ukitake sighed. “That’s true. What I am glad is that by some miracle you got a hung jury. You have a month to gather new information that will help get the defense a continuance.”
Ichigo smirked. “I met one of the jurors who refused to vote guilty,” he said. “Turned out that the auburn-haired girl on the jury is an acquaintance of my best friend Chad.”
Ukitake looked slightly interested. “Do you remember this juror’s name?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m horrible with that sort of thing. Which is just as well, she won’t get involved in this case again. She might be one of the jurors ferried in.”
The older man shrugged. “It’s good to keep tabs on everyone who makes contact with you on this matter…”
Ichigo was getting impatient with this advice. He knew all of this already. But Ukitake was not to be rushed.
“…And you need to do is to check the autopsy reports. If they are off, you need to get an exhumation order for the body. That Ishida…”
“What about him? He’s the chief coroner, supposed to be the best the Commonwealth has ever seen,” Ichigo furrowed his brow. “At least, that’s what I know about him.”
Shunsui shook his head sadly. “Oh, you naïve boy. Your recent promotion makes me forget that you’ve only been on the force for six months. Chief Coroner’s an appointed position. No. Ryuken Ishida is a great doctor, but he’s better with saving live bodies, not figuring out what killed dead ones. He’s not a forensic scientist. It’s not his fault. The last person to hold that position - the best damn scientist this Commonwealth will ever see - he’s gotten quite dotty.”
“So, who are the new go-to people for hard evidence?” Ichigo inquired, although he knew where this was leading.
“This place, of course,” The twinkle in Ukitake’s eyes was unmistakable. “Nothing like a private inquiry agency to keep everyone on the staff on their toes. From shadowing to lab work, we do it best and we don’t cut corners. If you could handle the red tape, we wouldn’t mind lending our guy to be at the exhumation.”
So things were looking up. Ichigo knew he’d have to file a ton of paperwork to get an exhumation order now, and he would need a good reason to file one. Inspectors weren’t allowed to dig up dead people on solely on their gut feelings. Still, he took mental note of the offer.
Shunsui cocked his head to the side and added thoughtfully, “I’ve met Byakuya Kuchiki. He’s rather ruthless. If someone was to kill his wife, he’d want to get revenge on his own.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Ichigo said. “Seeing that I’d have to bump heads with him to get any new information on his family.”
A knock on the door made them all pause, but it was only Nanao, the agency’s executive assistant. She wheeled in a tea cart laden with baked sweets. She also pulled out a thick wad of paperwork from under the tea things including a folder labeled Shunsui’s Tasks.
“It’s time for our meeting,” she reminded the two older men. She barely glanced at Ichigo. “Should I come back?”
“No need,” Ichigo rose to go. “What’s that favor?”
“Not important anymore,” Ukitake said. “But wait. You don’t know everything yet, Kurosaki.”
Damn this old coot, Ichigo thought with chagrin. Leaving the most important information for last. He always does this. His hand was on the doorknob. “What is it?”
“The man who was stabbed yesterday?” Ukitake folded his hands before him. “Kisuke Urahara.”
“Yeah? He was just some courtroom nut.”
“That’s not his real name,” Ukitake said. “When he was much younger, he used to be known by the moniker Benihime.”
“Rather gay, don’t you think?” Ichigo blurted out.
“The newspapers didn’t recognize him, he’s changed so much,” Shunsui interjected. “He’s not gay… but he can get rather jolly.” Significant pause. “And he’s the eccentric genius we were just talking about... he was the commonwealth’s duly appointed Chief Coroner before Ishida.”
Oh fuck.
“He used to be an acquaintance of ours,” Ukitake explained. “He used to be a friend of your boss, too. A very good friend of hers, but the Shihoin wouldn’t mention that to a subordinate like you.”
Shunsui snorted. “You’re so discreet. You might as well say as soon as the Shihoin forgives him for being a stupid ass for that trick he played on her two years ago, they’ll be tighter than thieves. Nobody’s going to get close enough to kill him while he’s lying unconscious in the hospital. The Shihoin’s love, like her wrath, is a scary emotion to provoke.”
Double fuck. Now was not the time to admit he was stupid and dismissive.
“He was trying to tell me something about the Kuchiki family,” Ichigo said slowly. “But it didn’t make sense.”
Shunsui smiled contentedly, nostalgia on his face. “That’s Benihime all over. He likes his little riddles.”
Ichigo’s curiosity got the better of him. “Why Benihime?”
“Because whenever he got to dissect a new corpse, it was like he was having an audience with royalty,” Shunsui answered. “He could cut a fresh body and make its blood dance.”
Whenever Shunsui started using his poetic license, Ichigo took it as a cue to be gone.
The young inspector was almost out the door when Shunsui took his parting shot. “Good luck with the case, boy. If you get Rukia Kuchiki off the hook, just remember don’t push her into falling in love with you out of gratitude. Give her time and make her come to you. She’s a real keeper. Maybe you can put some life back into her pale face. She’s no match for my Nanao-chan, but…”
His face was turned away from them, but Ichigo’s nape was hot.
Nanao tut-tutted. Ukitake merely swallowed his smile.
As soon as the door closed behind him, however, Nanao turned more serious than usual. “I don’t understand,” she asked the two older men as she poured out their tea. “If this man Urahara is so important, why aren’t we the ones checking out this case?”
“Nonsense,” Shunsui told her. “It’s Ichigo’s job to be curious.”
“And what about us?” She was unconvinced. “Isn’t this a major conflict of interest?”
Shunsui gave her a warning look, and Nanao did not continue the rest of her thought out loud.
“Never forget the difference between us and the Met,” Ukitake reminded her. “We neither choose our clients nor the cases they ask us to investigate, and our loyalties are to them during the duration of the case. We must keep our thoughts to ourselves. Ichigo, on the other hand…” the head of the firm suddenly beamed. “Ichigo is at the mercy of the common taxpayer. So everything and everyone is his business and his responsibility. And I suspect he likes it like that.”
Interlude 3.5: At the Met Headquarters, Key Street, Mashiba District
The phone on Ichigo’s desk rang. “The materials are available now, inspector.”
Ichigo tossed away the paperwork he was double-checking before submission. It was just another smuggling case closed. He had led a successful raid on a warehouse the other night. No casualties. All that was left of that case was to track down the guy who rented the warehouse for the month. Who ever it was, Ichigo conceded, he was quite clever in covering his tracks.
Yet it was not as compelling as the Kuchiki poisoning case, not in a hundred years. He had to put off sticking his finger into that pie since he made up his mind ⎯ his official case load was a hassle ⎯ so now Ichigo found himself pacing hurriedly to Central Archives. When he got there, he found the brightly lit basement empty except for neat stacks of file boxes.
“Thanks for the quick work, Tatsuki,” Ichigo said, scooping up the box labeled H. Kuchiki: Do Not Remove from CA that was left temptingly open on the counter. “Your new system works great.” He shook the box a bit. It was surprisingly light.
“Not so fast mister, first you got to show me you actually got permission from Chief Inspector Shihoin to look at that stuff,” Tatsuki grabbed the box back. Apparently she was going to stick to procedure on this. She tapped her clipboard. “And sign here if you plan to take it with you. The only reason that file box is here is due to the court case.”
“Who was the original inspector assigned to the investigation?” Ichigo asked.
The spiky haired woman put down the clipboard and took a squint at her computerized index. “It seems to have changed hands twice,” she said. “First it was assigned to Inspector Abarai but Inspector Kira took charge afterwards.”
Ideas were swimming in Ichigo’s head. Both inspectors were unknown to him; most likely they were stationed at Seireitei, where Hisana died. Either way, it didn’t sound like a promising start.
Still, he took the opportunity of Tatsuki’s divided attention to make off with the file box. “Thanks, Tatsuki!” He yelled over his shoulder, bumping into someone on his way out. “Sorry.” Ichigo didn’t even pause to look at the person he had hit.
“Wait!” When Tatsuki swung her gaze in the right direction, Ichigo was gone. “That bastard,” she muttered to herself. “He never follows protocol.” Sighing, she made a notation on the clipboard.
Tatsuki would feel better about herself if her friend told her what he was up to. She went to the back of the Archives to pull out some more requested files.
Unbeknownst to the feisty archivist, the inspector who was brushing his slightly bruised shoulder saw everything. His eyes narrowed. The man backtracked and pulled out his cell phone.
“Talk to me at our place, same time,” was all he said before hanging up.
Half an hour later, when Tatsuki returned to the front counter, all she saw was an unknown officer, who had fallen asleep among the periodicals.
Nice ink, Inspector, she thought, and turned her attentions to her next project.
Chapter 4: At the Met Headquarters, Key Street, Mashiba District
Ichigo was incensed. He was fighting mad. He wanted to punch a wall.
So he did.
Too bad the wall he punched was the cubicle wall. Sitting in the opposite cubicle, a junior officer’s face went ashy.
Sergeant Keigo Asano peered over the edge. “Inspector Kurosaki, did you feel that tremor?” he stammered. He was scared of earthquakes.
Ichigo snarled at him. Sergeant Asano jumped back. He may be scared of earthquakes, but Inspector Kurosaki was scarier. The dark cloud over Ichigo’s head was growing. He may have opted out of the formal black of their official uniform, as his right as a ranking officer, but even in mufti Inspector Kurosaki commanded respect.
At least, that’s how it seemed to Sergeant Asano.
Ichigo's attention returned to his work. Emptying out the box was futile. There was nothing left for him to examine. It took only a single hour to read through everything. Ichigo could not believe anyone was going to be declared guilty and sentenced to death on such flimsy evidence.
The case against Rukia Kuchiki all boiled down to one eyewitness account, the housemaid named Momo Hinamori. Everything else was hearsay and supposition. Ichigo immediately dismissed the evidence of Rukia’s fingerprints all over the room. That didn’t prove anything - she was a family member, after all - it was logical that she would leave traces of herself in the crime scene.
The only other person who had the same number of prints on the scene was Byakuya Kuchiki.
Analysis for the leftovers of the meal ⎯ including broiled chicken with fresh herbs, a clear broth with three types of mushrooms, fresh fruit and salad ⎯ was inconclusive for trances of arsenic, too.
Why did Ichigo get the horrible feeling that the white powder found on the plates was planted afterwards?
The numerous crime scene photographs revealed nothing except for a bedroom, otherwise kept sparkling clean, suddenly disrupted by violent illness. The traces of some possible attempts at resuscitation remained. Someone in the family was a hypochondriac for the room was set up like a mini-hospital, complete with its own oxygen tank, defibrillator, and a glass cabinet full of unused over-the-counter drugs, syringes, acupuncture needles, and the like. Were these drugs ever tested to see if their contents had matched their labels? Not exactly… due to the speed of the trial, a pharmacist was called in to identify the drugs and nothing was out of the ordinary.
The young inspector could not believe it. He had been attending the trial when he could, but he assumed he merely missed all the presentation of technical evidence. There had been times that he couldn’t even watch, due to his own workload and Judge Yamamoto’s constant closure of the courtroom due to the curious crowd.
Ichigo had a gut feeling there wasn’t any damning evidence against Rukia Kuchiki. But the truth was even more laughable. There was not a thread of proof that Rukia Kuchiki had ever purchased arsenic or even knew its effect on the human body.
There was no proof of the use of arsenic either, except for some nail and hair clippings showing that both Hisana and Rukia had traces of the poison in their system. A certain Dr. Iemura Yasochika, who signed the death certificate, admitted that several other poisons could cause the same symptoms.
The King’s Counsel had taken the evidence of poison in Rukia’s hair as her death warrant and had harped on that point alone. Arsenic is a poison that allows would-be murderers to immune themselves from a lethal dosage. Poisoners build up a tolerance for it by consuming it over a long period of time. So when the right moment comes along, the poisoner can share a heavily spiked meal with the victim and escape death, and often, suspicion.
Obviously, the King’s Counsel took the arsenic in Rukia’s hair as a sign that she had deadly intent against her sister.
The inspector shook his head. It didn’t make sense to him that Hisana had signs of perennial arsenic consumption, too. Why would Rukia let Hisana build immunity to the poison, if the sister was the real target?
This shouldn’t make sense to anyone else either, Ichigo decided.
But what if… both sisters were trying to build immunity because they were planning to poison someone else in the family?
It has been known that some would-be murders have died while dosing themselves with the poison. Not everyone had the same tolerance for the element. What could have been a preparatory dose that did not affect Rukia could still possibly kill Hisana.
What if the Kuchiki sisters were out to poison Byakuya Kuchiki?
Ichigo shook his head. No. That didn’t make sense either. Hisana Kuchiki was a paragon of virtue. Even himself, who never read the society pages, knew all about her charities. And Hisana just found Rukia a year before her death. Hisana’s famous waist-length hair had arsenic down to the very end of its strands - implying a longer period of constant poisoning.
Only a full autopsy report, Ichigo mused, could decide what really killed Hisana. The presence of arsenic should show up in a person’s stomach and liver ⎯ if not the presence of other poisons as well.
He tried to remember any of the barristers mentioning the autopsy report in court and drew a blank. Ichigo then eagerly pawed through the folders and pulled out the folder labeled “Official Autopsy Findings.”
It was empty except for one flimsy piece of paper.
Inspector Kira’s request for an autopsy denied… the barristers of Byakuya Kuchiki furnished the inspector with Hisana Kuchiki’s last will and testament. It stated the deceased’s wishes to be buried immediately after death. The document further stipulated that there would be no public viewing of her body, and no one, save that of her immediate family, should tend to her remains.
The samples of blood and urine grudgingly allowed by the Kuchiki family to be extracted from Hisana’s body were inconclusive, except for a slight oddity in nicotine levels that Dr. Iemura Yasochika, the Seireitei medical examiner, attributed to second-hand smoke.
Ichigo stared at the words on the page in disbelief. This is fucking unbelievable, he raged.
How could Inspector Kira not press the issue? Did he really think it was enough to be satisfied with blood and urine samples? Ichigo bit down on his lip so hard he cut himself.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck.
Most likely Inspector Kira already fought with the Kuchiki family just to get the evidence they surrendered. After hearing of Byakuya Kuchiki’s reputation, he had to applaud his fellow inspector for getting that much out of the clan.
Ichigo was pissed. Isn’t it strange, he thought, that his Sereitei colleague didn’t take up the matter with his Chief Inspector? A case like this needed a full autopsy. How could Inspector Kira not find the clause in Hisana’s will a bit suspicious? Was he bribed to let the matter slide uninvestigated?
“Damn it,” Ichigo muttered. “There’s something so fishy about this. I want to hit something.”
Someone was hiding the truth and covering up his tracks. Ichigo Kurosaki had a good idea who it was.
He needed to confront Byakuya Kuchiki. Perhaps the man was trying to rid himself of both his generous wife and his new dependent.
What exactly was he doing the night his wife died?
But first, Ichigo punched the wall again. “Asano,” he snarled. “I have something for you to do for me.”
The sergeant’s head slowly peered over the cubicle wall. “Yes, Inspector?” the poor guy squeaked. Looking at Ichigo’s blazing eyes, he didn’t really have a choice in the matter.
Interlude 4.5: At the Chambers of Judge Yamamoto, All Souls Square, Tsubaki-dai District
“Sir, I got a request for you to sign, it’s from the Met.” The bailiff coughed in a semi-authoritative manner. “They want a subpoena to exhume the remains of Hisana Kuchiki. The new inspector on the case thinks the cause of death is inconclusive without a full autopsy.”
Judge Yamamoto cocked open an eye. He hated it when someone from the Met bothered his after-lunch nap. “They should have thought of that before they released the body to the family,” he murmured.
“Your honor,” the bailiff said cautiously, “I believe the family never released the body to the Met in the first place. And King’s Counsel had opted for a speedy trial. It is not my place to say so, but certain irregularities have occurred.”
Judge Yamamoto considered his huge, usually taciturn bailiff for a moment. Hatch could have gone up in the world, he thought, but he was the type of man who was satisfied to be at the sidelines.
“Send in the fool who filed that request,” he said.
After a few moments, the rookie made his appearance in front of the testy judge, who looked even more terrifying, dressed down in his undershirt and boxer shorts. His court robes hung from a hook behind him.
“Sergeant Asano, your honor,” he said, trying to hide his sweaty palms.
“What’s the purpose of all this? Does the King’s Counsel or the defense even know about this preposterous request? I can’t believe the audacity of ⎯ ”
“I don’t know, sir,” Keigo faltered. “I was just asked to present this to you and to wait for your response.” He handed over more papers for the judge to inspect.
A few tense moments passed as Judge Yamamoto tried to decipher Ichigo’s scrawls on the form.
“I have to deny this request,” Judge Yamamoto snapped. “Mere suspicion of other means of death is not enough to dig up someone. Tell Inspector Kurosaki that if he gets a waiver from a Kuchiki family member, and I might reconsider the matter.”
Keigo nodded dumbly. “Yes, your honor.”
The judge stroked his chin. “And tell that fool of an inspector that the accused doesn’t count under the circumstances.”
The sergeant fled the chambers. He didn’t want to be the one to break the news to Inspector Kurosaki.
Chapter 5: Penitence Detention Facility, Sougyoku Hills
Ichigo was waiting in the visitor’s lounge of the detention center. A traffic jam downtown contrived to make him later than he wanted to be, but he still got there in good time. The mid-afternoon light was bright and the weather was balmy. He felt oddly excited, even giddy. Ichigo was not one to force his attentions on anyone before ⎯ much less someone accused of a horrible crime.
Even if Penitence was a minimum security facility, Ichigo was still patted down by a tired-looking guard equipped with a sling bag. His lips were pursed, as if he was weighing something in his mind.
“What?” Ichigo demanded, as he handed over his standard Glock 17 for safekeeping. “I don’t have all the time in the world, buddy.”
“We like to take our time here at Penitence,” the guard spoke up. “Are you in a hurry?”
“Yeah,” the inspector tried to rein in his impatience. Ichigo didn’t come here to chat with Rukia’s gaoler; he came to chat with her. “The person I need to talk to ¬⎯ well, she doesn’t have all the time in world until her re-trial starts. So yeah, time is of the essence.”
“Is that so.” The young guard finally finished his inspection, and took possession of the contents of Ichigo’s pockets, including the tape recorder he had just bought. “Sir, no items of any kind are allowed in the visitor’s room,” he explained apologetically. “You’ll get these back when you leave. It’s policy, just in case the inmates get weird ideas.”
The frown was forthcoming, but Ichigo controlled his features. He could not imagine this particular inmate to start a hostage situation with a tape recorder. Still, there could always be a first time.
The guard - the embroidered nameplate on his uniform said H. Yamada ⎯ led Ichigo to the visitor’s area. “You have thirty minutes. There is always a guard watching on the other side of the wall. You are not allowed to address the other inmates or their visitors. Please remember to keep your hands on the table where they are visible, and you are not allowed to touch each other. Repeated failure to comply may revoke the prisoner’s visitation privileges.”
Revoke the prisoner’s privileges. Ichigo knew all these rules but he never paid much attention to them before. He wondered how he would feel, if freedoms he had always taken for granted were suddenly labeled privileges.
He shook his head. Now was not the time to contemplate such things.
Ichigo sat down in the sparsely furnished room. He was more nervous than he cared to admit. Despite the circumstances he felt he was on a first date. There were two or three other inmates in the area, already deep in quiet conversation with their visitors. Ichigo could easily identify the one-way mirror and the location of a discreet security camera. He placed his hands on the table and looked around. The only difference between this room and the one used for interrogation of suspects down at the Met headquarters was the television that was left blaring in the corner. Most likely the guards also used the room during lights out, there was no other reason to account for its presence. Right now, the television was used as a means to disguise confidential exchanges. Ichigo knew that sort of trick never really worked, but he was amused by the effort.
“…The Commonwealth of Karakura, touted as “the Gateway to Asia” by the glossy tourist brochures, is a handful of islands located south of Taiwan and north of the Philippines. In the middle of the South China Sea and the Pacific Ocean, the Commonwealth is unique for its growing number of islands due to volcanic eruptions, with the island locally known as Hueco Mundo being the largest of the newly formed landmasses, the direct result of the Great Earthquake of 1927.
Despite its strategic location, Karakura has never figured greatly in world events, preferring to stay a secluded and select destination for the well traveled. Briefly colonized by England in the 18th century, it was always a hub for traders from Spain, China, and India while becoming the new home for several Japanese clans seeking to enlarge their fiefdoms during the late Edo period. Occupied by the imperial forces during World War II, Karakura gained its autonomy upon the signing of the Treaty of Seireitei. The Commonwealth is led by its symbolic head of state, the reclusive monarch known as…”
“Are they still showing that history reel? They haven’t changed that since I was in high school.”
Ichigo was startled. Her voice was velvety and deep; it was not quite what he imagined.
Rukia Kuchiki sat down across him, and the guard tried to hide his approval before moving away.
“I think it’s stuck on the government channel,” Ichigo finally answered. Why did he sound apologetic for the facilities? “Someone must have taken away the remote control.”
“…and you know this because…?”
“I use my eyes and ears very well.” Ichigo pointed casually the control panel across the room. “See? Someone jammed it.”
She seemed puzzled that he would notice such a silly thing. “Seems like you use your mouth a lot, too.”
The sarcasm in her voice was mild but biting. Ichigo turned his attention to the woman sitting opposite him.
This was going to be difficult; Ichigo didn’t realize how lovely she was. The distance kept between him and Rukia Kuchiki in the courthouse was apparently too much. Her hair had a shiny rich gloss, and her skin was translucent and clear. In fact, she was in much better condition than the last time Ichigo saw her in court almost a week ago.
The offending red collar was still in the way, of course. Wouldn’t it be so nice to rip it off and gently fondle and nip her neck?
Ichigo unconsciously shook himself. He had no idea where that lustful thought came from.
She surveyed him with slight distaste. Obviously Rukia could tell what had momentarily crossed his mind, or perhaps it was on all the minds of her visitors. She had struck up a tentative friendship with one of the nicer guards. He was the one who to screened the worst of the curious scumbags. Female inmates who figure in national scandals get a lot of unwanted male attention, Hanatarou explained.
Hanatarou went through the trouble of weeding out the nasty and obscene messages that came in her “fan” mail. If he was actually paid to do this, however, he never said. Rukia took it as a matter of fact that the facility would open everyone’s mail.
Why this visitor got through Hanatarou’s radar, Rukia Kuchiki would like to find out. There had been another inspector from the Met whom Hanatarou didn’t let through. Something about the man’s wide smiles made him wary. Rukia briefly considered that maybe Hanatarou had a crush on her, but she brushed that thought aside.
The orange-haired officer’s mouth was still agape.
“Why are you here?” she said curtly to stop his staring.
“I’m here to ask you some follow-up questions.”
“Who sent you? Are you really with the police? I don’t think this is official, because the Met informs my barrister, Mr. Kanonji, ahead of time. I don’t answer any questions without him.” She paused, and it was pregnant with meaning. “Or are you just another pervert who gets off staring at helpless women?”
“No one sent me,” Ichigo’s face reddened. “The guard can verify that my badge is real. I came because I think you need me.”
“You’re mistaken, I have no need of the Met. Haven’t you inspectors done enough damage?”
The bitterness in Rukia’s tone was unmistakable.
“Look, the original inspectors who worked your case,” Ichigo explained, “They screwed it up big time. I want to help you by getting to the truth.”
“The last time someone said I should just tell them the truth,” Rukia arched an eyebrow, “I found myself shackled with handcuffs and being called a liar.”
“I’m not here to pick a fight,” Ichigo raised his voice. “But I won’t stand for being compared to other officers who were possibly incompetent.” Rukia opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. “Nobody asked me to be here, but I am anyway. And I am trying to find new evidence, on my own time. So if don’t want my help ⎯ if you don’t care about finding who really killed your sister ⎯ if you really trust your brother-in-law ⎯ ”
Self-doubt crept into her sullen expression. Her arms were still crossed, as if she was protecting herself from his gaze from across the table, but her face had already crumbled into an ashen sadness.
“I didn’t mean to be rude,” she finally forced herself to speak. “Please sit down.”
Ichigo hadn’t realized that he was so worked up that he was half out of his chair. He sat back down again.
“Please understand, I feel as if I’ve been under duress for the past month.” It wasn’t an apology - it was an explanation. “I have been made to feel that there is no one left to trust.” Unconsciously, Rukia fingered the collar on her neck. “And I don’t like feeling as if I belong in a zoo.”
“Understood.” Ichigo wanted to kick himself for starting off on the wrong foot. “I’m not a sensitive guy. I will try to keep these things in mind.” He took a deep breath. There was no way tactful way to ask what really bothered him, and so Ichigo didn’t mince his words. “Do you think Byakuya Kuchiki set you up?”
“I don’t know,” Rukia reluctantly admitted. Apparently she thought about that too, but had never verbalized her doubts. “He’s paying for the barristers but he has never come to see me. I know he used his connections to get me placed here, instead of the cramped cell in the Seireitei outpost or the maximum security gaol in Hueco Mundo. Mr. Kanonji managed to argue that this location is best for me, since the trial was held here and not in Seireitei.” There was a fleeting spark of amusement in her glance. “I fear that was the last convincing argument Mr. Kanonji was able to make on my behalf.”
Ichigo managed a small smile but his mind was distracted. His blood chilled at the thought of this small woman being sentenced to Hueco Mundo. Everybody from the mainland avoided all mention of the island northernmost of the Karakura archipelago. It was harsh and desolate. The landscape was daunting, with an active volcanic crater constantly spewing lava and metamorphic rock, slowly changing the island’s shape over the years. One side of the island housed the national mental asylum; the other side contained the hardened convicts. Death was supposed to be preferable to a mandatory confinement there.
Rukia noticed his intent expression and continued. “Only Grandfather Kuchiki visits me here, and even he stopped coming. I think… Nii-sama forbade him to see me.”
Ichigo waited to hear more.
“When my sister asked me to stay with them, the only thing Nii-sama said was, I should quit my job. No sister-in-law of his should need to work. I thought he was being kind to Hisana, but I realized it was also… pride.” Rukia checked herself.
“You have a job?” Ichigo was surprised. “It’s not mentioned in your file.”
Rukia flushed indignantly. “Of course I have a job! I supported myself since I was released from the orphanage at the age of seventeen! First I did lots of odd jobs but I finally got work I liked. Have you never heard of my book, The Adventures of Chappy the Bunny?” Ichigo shook his head. “It’s a picture book for young children. The editors - they like my drawings. I was commissioned to make a sequel. But maybe the books won’t sell anymore...” she seemed more sad about the fate of her sequel than her own situation.
Ichigo wished he could record this conversation. He would like to check her work out and he knew he was bound to forget the title she just mentioned. If only, he thought to himself darkly, as supplementary research - for her psychological profiling.
“I don’t want to be thought ungrateful, Inspector, so I’ve been trying to live up to the family expectations, but ⎯ ” her sigh was audible. “As you see, it’s been a failure.”
Ichigo tapped his forehead. He wasn’t sure if they had a lot of time left. “Do you think Byakuya set you up?” he repeated the question.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “ A man like Nii-sama, he wouldn’t marry just anyone. Most likely he was pressured to marry someone posh, like a Shiba or a Shihoin ⎯ ” here Ichigo smirked, having never thought of his boss as posh “ ⎯ and my sister was nobody. Hisana made that clear to me. She felt very guilty we were separated as children, but it’s not her fault that the family that adopted her could only take in one. They weren’t on the level of the Kuchikis, not in a thousand years.”
“So Byakuya married for love but his treatment of you - taking care of the barristers, using his influence to get you into a minimum security facility - this is merely out of obligation.”
Rukia flinched. “If you must put it that way.”
His eyes narrowed with unmistakable passion. “Now that we got that clear, maybe you can help me. Do you trust your barristers?”
“Not all the time.”
“Did you tell them everything you know?”
“Some things,” she shrugged, “They never asked.”
“Tell me,” he said, “Did they ask you why you didn’t bring your sister to the hospital?”
Rukia looked uncomfortable. “But Hisana didn’t want to be brought to the hospital anymore.”
“What! Your sister is violently ill, vomiting blood, delirious, with an abnormal blood pressure, and you don’t stop to bring her to the emergency room against her objections? Her seizures alone should have ⎯ ”
Her eyes blazed and stared Ichigo down. “You don’t understand! Hisana hated the hospital. She wanted to die in peace. I thought she was just having another one of her attacks. She was like that almost every week since she found me. One year together, and we spent half of our time in the sick room.”
Ichigo could not hold that gaze. There was too much pain there. He looked away, ashamed that he was pushing her.
Rukia continued. “Right after finding her, I had to immune myself to the idea I would lose her any moment. Not many people know but my sister was very ill. That mini-hospital in the house? That was equipped for Hisana’s comfort but everyone was told, including the police, that it belonged to Grandfather Kuchiki.” Rukia closed her eyes, as if remembering something painful. “Hisana hid her pain very well when she had social functions to attend, but the truth of the matter is, Hisana was dying of a dreadful disease. She tried various remedies to ease her suffering. She didn’t even tell me what it was. She wanted to save Nii-sama from the shame.”
So this is the real reason why it was stipulated in Hisana’s will that no one was to touch her remains after death, except immediate family members. How convenient for her murderer. His misdeeds would go undiscovered if her corpse was never embalmed or autopsied.
“Inspector Kurosaki?” she asked. “Did you hear what I just said?”
“Yes, I did, I was just thinking….” Ichigo cleared his throat and then changed the topic. “Why are you telling me this now?”
She looked down at his large hands. They had remained flat on the table, motionless, since they began their interview. “You asked me if I trusted Nii-sama,” she whispered. “Nobody ever asked me if I doubted him before.”
Ichigo was irritated. “Nii-sama. You keep referring to Byakuya Kuchiki as Nii-sama. What does that mean, exactly?”
“Older esteemed brother,” Rukia answered. “I’ve never called him anything else. Hisana asked me to call him that. It honors their family traditions. One of the last things she begged of me was to be obedient to the family since they were all I had left.”
Ichigo didn’t want to point out the painful irony of her words. Rukia didn’t seem to notice her own lapse, as she rambled on. “The Kuchiki clan is the first important Japanese clan to settle in the Commonwealth in the 17th century. They predate everyone else - but they’re all related - the Shihoin, the Aizen, the Shiba, the Abarai. All these families originate from the same han. Perhaps it didn’t occur to you that the Kurosaki might be related to them, too?”
The inspector felt that this speculation was beyond the point. “I don’t bother much with ancestry,” Ichigo stated.
“Maybe you should,” Rukia retorted. “A lot of problems in the present can be traced to the wrong-doings in the distant past.”
“Time’s almost up, sir,” Hanatarou materialized by their table.
Ichigo looked up and nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow again, Rukia.” He looked at her with a fleeting ghost of a smile. “Better think of things to help me get you out of this mess.”
Rukia blinked. After all her revelations, she seemed to grow remote once more. “Does my full cooperation mean you get to call me by my first name, Inspector?”
He considered that for a moment, as he stopped to turn by the door. “I guess it does. But don’t worry ⎯ you can call me anything you want.”
As the heavy metal bars slammed shut between them, Rukia Kuchiki was left to consider into the empty space before her. She didn’t have time to think of a witty retort.
Another guard hustled her back into her holding cell.
As she heard the repugnant sound of the gaoler’s key turning in the lock, Rukia lay down upon her bed. She couldn’t see out her barred window even if she tried. It was too high up against the wall but it still filtered in the glow of the fading sunset. The natural light was still more pleasant than the harsh electric lights of the facility after dark.
They would be turning the lights on soon, and she wouldn’t be able to escape the unpleasantness of the drab concrete walls that was choking her spirit.
Rukia didn’t want to disappoint herself ⎯ she had been at the point of despair and this well-meaning young inspector didn’t seem to know what he was doing ⎯ but still, against her better judgment, a tiny flicker of hope began to grow.
Perhaps Rukia Kuchiki wasn’t totally forsaken by the world, after all.
Unbeta-ed, so if you spot any awkward phrases or grammatical errors please point them out. Thanks so much, in advance.
Yet another handy link: Blood/Water: Chapters 6-8
title: Blood/Water (3-5/15)
genre: mystery, suspense, alternate universe
rating: T
word count: 7200+ (this installment)
warnings? I just realized that Ichigo swears a bit in these chapters. Heh.
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.
A handy link in case you missed it: Blood/Water: Prologue Chapters 1-2
Chapter 3: At the Twin Fish Private Inquiries Ltd., on the corner of 8th and 13th Streets, Kita-Kawase District
His office door shot open. The head of the firm knew a lot of people who were fond of dramatic entrances but this one had a definite flair for it: Ichigo Kurosaki. It wasn’t just the shock of orange hair that erupted from his head, but the scowling forehead that went with it. It was a balmy afternoon, and unlike any other young professional slacking off on the job to go to the beach, this specimen looked like he was only fit to pop his frontal vein due to stress.
Ukitake seemed almost too pleased to see him. “Why, it’s our prodigal intern. I’ve been trying to contact you! There was a favor I wanted to ask-”
“Tell me Ukitake… why do people kill?” Ichigo interrupted as he plopped unceremoniously into the visitor’s chair.
The man behind the teak desk coughed gently and put away the documents he was reading. Ukitake knew why he was here, but he played along. Kurosaki was not the only rookie policeman on the force who crawled back to his office for guidance. “Well, self-preservation is often the most common reason for people to justify violence against-”
“Why, Kurosaki, if you haven’t figured that out yet, Ukitake should have fired you,” drawled Shunsui Kyoraku, who had barged into his partner’s office. “Thank God you left on your own. What sort of havoc you’ve been doing at the Met since you left us? I tremble to think.”
Ukitake scratched his head. “Why Shunsui! Are you back from your stint in rehab so soon?”
“Came straight from the ferry ride,” Shunsui grinned. “I wanted to see my Nanao-chan and tell her that I’m sober now.”
“Sober?” Ichigo was stunned by that news more than by Shunsui’s good-natured insults. He studied the dapper man standing before them. Dressed in an impeccable suit, the gaudy pink cravat Shunsui wore rather destroyed the outfit. It also rendered him a conspicuous private investigator. “You? Cut cold turkey? Is that even possible?”
The two older men looked at each other and burst into laughter.
Shunsui sank into the chair opposite the young inspector. “Ukitake’s kidding! I was checking out some strange goings-on over at Seireitei involving phony land titles. I was there for a week. Boring stuff, compared to what you’ve got your fingers on.”
“I haven’t gotten my fingers around anyone!” Ichigo growled. “I just want to see if someone on the force overlooked some clue.”
“Now, now,” Ukitake made soothing noises. “That Rukia Kuchiki is a pretty girl but surely Kurosaki here has only the best intentions. I’m happy you’re taking an interest in her case. We read about your involvement in yesterday’s smash-up. It was in the news.” Ichigo refused to blush and so the white-haired private investigator went on. “Regarding your question, people do kill for many reasons. Some people will do anything to protect themselves, what is theirs, and what they believe is rightfully theirs. In the case of Hisana Kuchiki, she’s an innocent victim, no doubt.”
“No one deserves to be poisoned,” Ichigo muttered.
“That is if she was indeed poisoned,” Ukitake said. “Look. I know you’re quite new to be handling a murder investigation. It’s not your forte yet.” Ichigo nodded sullenly. For some reason, his boss always assigned him to check out smugglers and apprehend rapists. “And you didn’t do the initial investigation.”
“Are you leading me up a tree here?”
“Be patient, Kurosaki.” Ukitake was clearly warming up to his role. “You need to double-check every step the inspector before you made. This may get you into trouble if you’re not actually assigned to the case. Also, you need to know that the Kuchiki family has some secrets to hide, and more importantly, a lot of enemies.”
“You think someone would murder Hisana Kuchiki to get back at the family?” Ichigo was interested.
“It’s not farfetched,” Ukitake answered. “It would be difficult to prove, though, especially if it’s a professional hit. You might be looking for a culprit who’s fled overseas.”
A groan involuntarily escaped Ichigo’s throat. “And Byakuya Kuchiki is known to have business interests in Taiwan, Japan, and the Philippines.”
Ukitake sighed. “That’s true. What I am glad is that by some miracle you got a hung jury. You have a month to gather new information that will help get the defense a continuance.”
Ichigo smirked. “I met one of the jurors who refused to vote guilty,” he said. “Turned out that the auburn-haired girl on the jury is an acquaintance of my best friend Chad.”
Ukitake looked slightly interested. “Do you remember this juror’s name?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m horrible with that sort of thing. Which is just as well, she won’t get involved in this case again. She might be one of the jurors ferried in.”
The older man shrugged. “It’s good to keep tabs on everyone who makes contact with you on this matter…”
Ichigo was getting impatient with this advice. He knew all of this already. But Ukitake was not to be rushed.
“…And you need to do is to check the autopsy reports. If they are off, you need to get an exhumation order for the body. That Ishida…”
“What about him? He’s the chief coroner, supposed to be the best the Commonwealth has ever seen,” Ichigo furrowed his brow. “At least, that’s what I know about him.”
Shunsui shook his head sadly. “Oh, you naïve boy. Your recent promotion makes me forget that you’ve only been on the force for six months. Chief Coroner’s an appointed position. No. Ryuken Ishida is a great doctor, but he’s better with saving live bodies, not figuring out what killed dead ones. He’s not a forensic scientist. It’s not his fault. The last person to hold that position - the best damn scientist this Commonwealth will ever see - he’s gotten quite dotty.”
“So, who are the new go-to people for hard evidence?” Ichigo inquired, although he knew where this was leading.
“This place, of course,” The twinkle in Ukitake’s eyes was unmistakable. “Nothing like a private inquiry agency to keep everyone on the staff on their toes. From shadowing to lab work, we do it best and we don’t cut corners. If you could handle the red tape, we wouldn’t mind lending our guy to be at the exhumation.”
So things were looking up. Ichigo knew he’d have to file a ton of paperwork to get an exhumation order now, and he would need a good reason to file one. Inspectors weren’t allowed to dig up dead people on solely on their gut feelings. Still, he took mental note of the offer.
Shunsui cocked his head to the side and added thoughtfully, “I’ve met Byakuya Kuchiki. He’s rather ruthless. If someone was to kill his wife, he’d want to get revenge on his own.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Ichigo said. “Seeing that I’d have to bump heads with him to get any new information on his family.”
A knock on the door made them all pause, but it was only Nanao, the agency’s executive assistant. She wheeled in a tea cart laden with baked sweets. She also pulled out a thick wad of paperwork from under the tea things including a folder labeled Shunsui’s Tasks.
“It’s time for our meeting,” she reminded the two older men. She barely glanced at Ichigo. “Should I come back?”
“No need,” Ichigo rose to go. “What’s that favor?”
“Not important anymore,” Ukitake said. “But wait. You don’t know everything yet, Kurosaki.”
Damn this old coot, Ichigo thought with chagrin. Leaving the most important information for last. He always does this. His hand was on the doorknob. “What is it?”
“The man who was stabbed yesterday?” Ukitake folded his hands before him. “Kisuke Urahara.”
“Yeah? He was just some courtroom nut.”
“That’s not his real name,” Ukitake said. “When he was much younger, he used to be known by the moniker Benihime.”
“Rather gay, don’t you think?” Ichigo blurted out.
“The newspapers didn’t recognize him, he’s changed so much,” Shunsui interjected. “He’s not gay… but he can get rather jolly.” Significant pause. “And he’s the eccentric genius we were just talking about... he was the commonwealth’s duly appointed Chief Coroner before Ishida.”
Oh fuck.
“He used to be an acquaintance of ours,” Ukitake explained. “He used to be a friend of your boss, too. A very good friend of hers, but the Shihoin wouldn’t mention that to a subordinate like you.”
Shunsui snorted. “You’re so discreet. You might as well say as soon as the Shihoin forgives him for being a stupid ass for that trick he played on her two years ago, they’ll be tighter than thieves. Nobody’s going to get close enough to kill him while he’s lying unconscious in the hospital. The Shihoin’s love, like her wrath, is a scary emotion to provoke.”
Double fuck. Now was not the time to admit he was stupid and dismissive.
“He was trying to tell me something about the Kuchiki family,” Ichigo said slowly. “But it didn’t make sense.”
Shunsui smiled contentedly, nostalgia on his face. “That’s Benihime all over. He likes his little riddles.”
Ichigo’s curiosity got the better of him. “Why Benihime?”
“Because whenever he got to dissect a new corpse, it was like he was having an audience with royalty,” Shunsui answered. “He could cut a fresh body and make its blood dance.”
Whenever Shunsui started using his poetic license, Ichigo took it as a cue to be gone.
The young inspector was almost out the door when Shunsui took his parting shot. “Good luck with the case, boy. If you get Rukia Kuchiki off the hook, just remember don’t push her into falling in love with you out of gratitude. Give her time and make her come to you. She’s a real keeper. Maybe you can put some life back into her pale face. She’s no match for my Nanao-chan, but…”
His face was turned away from them, but Ichigo’s nape was hot.
Nanao tut-tutted. Ukitake merely swallowed his smile.
As soon as the door closed behind him, however, Nanao turned more serious than usual. “I don’t understand,” she asked the two older men as she poured out their tea. “If this man Urahara is so important, why aren’t we the ones checking out this case?”
“Nonsense,” Shunsui told her. “It’s Ichigo’s job to be curious.”
“And what about us?” She was unconvinced. “Isn’t this a major conflict of interest?”
Shunsui gave her a warning look, and Nanao did not continue the rest of her thought out loud.
“Never forget the difference between us and the Met,” Ukitake reminded her. “We neither choose our clients nor the cases they ask us to investigate, and our loyalties are to them during the duration of the case. We must keep our thoughts to ourselves. Ichigo, on the other hand…” the head of the firm suddenly beamed. “Ichigo is at the mercy of the common taxpayer. So everything and everyone is his business and his responsibility. And I suspect he likes it like that.”
Interlude 3.5: At the Met Headquarters, Key Street, Mashiba District
The phone on Ichigo’s desk rang. “The materials are available now, inspector.”
Ichigo tossed away the paperwork he was double-checking before submission. It was just another smuggling case closed. He had led a successful raid on a warehouse the other night. No casualties. All that was left of that case was to track down the guy who rented the warehouse for the month. Who ever it was, Ichigo conceded, he was quite clever in covering his tracks.
Yet it was not as compelling as the Kuchiki poisoning case, not in a hundred years. He had to put off sticking his finger into that pie since he made up his mind ⎯ his official case load was a hassle ⎯ so now Ichigo found himself pacing hurriedly to Central Archives. When he got there, he found the brightly lit basement empty except for neat stacks of file boxes.
“Thanks for the quick work, Tatsuki,” Ichigo said, scooping up the box labeled H. Kuchiki: Do Not Remove from CA that was left temptingly open on the counter. “Your new system works great.” He shook the box a bit. It was surprisingly light.
“Not so fast mister, first you got to show me you actually got permission from Chief Inspector Shihoin to look at that stuff,” Tatsuki grabbed the box back. Apparently she was going to stick to procedure on this. She tapped her clipboard. “And sign here if you plan to take it with you. The only reason that file box is here is due to the court case.”
“Who was the original inspector assigned to the investigation?” Ichigo asked.
The spiky haired woman put down the clipboard and took a squint at her computerized index. “It seems to have changed hands twice,” she said. “First it was assigned to Inspector Abarai but Inspector Kira took charge afterwards.”
Ideas were swimming in Ichigo’s head. Both inspectors were unknown to him; most likely they were stationed at Seireitei, where Hisana died. Either way, it didn’t sound like a promising start.
Still, he took the opportunity of Tatsuki’s divided attention to make off with the file box. “Thanks, Tatsuki!” He yelled over his shoulder, bumping into someone on his way out. “Sorry.” Ichigo didn’t even pause to look at the person he had hit.
“Wait!” When Tatsuki swung her gaze in the right direction, Ichigo was gone. “That bastard,” she muttered to herself. “He never follows protocol.” Sighing, she made a notation on the clipboard.
Tatsuki would feel better about herself if her friend told her what he was up to. She went to the back of the Archives to pull out some more requested files.
Unbeknownst to the feisty archivist, the inspector who was brushing his slightly bruised shoulder saw everything. His eyes narrowed. The man backtracked and pulled out his cell phone.
“Talk to me at our place, same time,” was all he said before hanging up.
Half an hour later, when Tatsuki returned to the front counter, all she saw was an unknown officer, who had fallen asleep among the periodicals.
Nice ink, Inspector, she thought, and turned her attentions to her next project.
Chapter 4: At the Met Headquarters, Key Street, Mashiba District
Ichigo was incensed. He was fighting mad. He wanted to punch a wall.
So he did.
Too bad the wall he punched was the cubicle wall. Sitting in the opposite cubicle, a junior officer’s face went ashy.
Sergeant Keigo Asano peered over the edge. “Inspector Kurosaki, did you feel that tremor?” he stammered. He was scared of earthquakes.
Ichigo snarled at him. Sergeant Asano jumped back. He may be scared of earthquakes, but Inspector Kurosaki was scarier. The dark cloud over Ichigo’s head was growing. He may have opted out of the formal black of their official uniform, as his right as a ranking officer, but even in mufti Inspector Kurosaki commanded respect.
At least, that’s how it seemed to Sergeant Asano.
Ichigo's attention returned to his work. Emptying out the box was futile. There was nothing left for him to examine. It took only a single hour to read through everything. Ichigo could not believe anyone was going to be declared guilty and sentenced to death on such flimsy evidence.
The case against Rukia Kuchiki all boiled down to one eyewitness account, the housemaid named Momo Hinamori. Everything else was hearsay and supposition. Ichigo immediately dismissed the evidence of Rukia’s fingerprints all over the room. That didn’t prove anything - she was a family member, after all - it was logical that she would leave traces of herself in the crime scene.
The only other person who had the same number of prints on the scene was Byakuya Kuchiki.
Analysis for the leftovers of the meal ⎯ including broiled chicken with fresh herbs, a clear broth with three types of mushrooms, fresh fruit and salad ⎯ was inconclusive for trances of arsenic, too.
Why did Ichigo get the horrible feeling that the white powder found on the plates was planted afterwards?
The numerous crime scene photographs revealed nothing except for a bedroom, otherwise kept sparkling clean, suddenly disrupted by violent illness. The traces of some possible attempts at resuscitation remained. Someone in the family was a hypochondriac for the room was set up like a mini-hospital, complete with its own oxygen tank, defibrillator, and a glass cabinet full of unused over-the-counter drugs, syringes, acupuncture needles, and the like. Were these drugs ever tested to see if their contents had matched their labels? Not exactly… due to the speed of the trial, a pharmacist was called in to identify the drugs and nothing was out of the ordinary.
The young inspector could not believe it. He had been attending the trial when he could, but he assumed he merely missed all the presentation of technical evidence. There had been times that he couldn’t even watch, due to his own workload and Judge Yamamoto’s constant closure of the courtroom due to the curious crowd.
Ichigo had a gut feeling there wasn’t any damning evidence against Rukia Kuchiki. But the truth was even more laughable. There was not a thread of proof that Rukia Kuchiki had ever purchased arsenic or even knew its effect on the human body.
There was no proof of the use of arsenic either, except for some nail and hair clippings showing that both Hisana and Rukia had traces of the poison in their system. A certain Dr. Iemura Yasochika, who signed the death certificate, admitted that several other poisons could cause the same symptoms.
The King’s Counsel had taken the evidence of poison in Rukia’s hair as her death warrant and had harped on that point alone. Arsenic is a poison that allows would-be murderers to immune themselves from a lethal dosage. Poisoners build up a tolerance for it by consuming it over a long period of time. So when the right moment comes along, the poisoner can share a heavily spiked meal with the victim and escape death, and often, suspicion.
Obviously, the King’s Counsel took the arsenic in Rukia’s hair as a sign that she had deadly intent against her sister.
The inspector shook his head. It didn’t make sense to him that Hisana had signs of perennial arsenic consumption, too. Why would Rukia let Hisana build immunity to the poison, if the sister was the real target?
This shouldn’t make sense to anyone else either, Ichigo decided.
But what if… both sisters were trying to build immunity because they were planning to poison someone else in the family?
It has been known that some would-be murders have died while dosing themselves with the poison. Not everyone had the same tolerance for the element. What could have been a preparatory dose that did not affect Rukia could still possibly kill Hisana.
What if the Kuchiki sisters were out to poison Byakuya Kuchiki?
Ichigo shook his head. No. That didn’t make sense either. Hisana Kuchiki was a paragon of virtue. Even himself, who never read the society pages, knew all about her charities. And Hisana just found Rukia a year before her death. Hisana’s famous waist-length hair had arsenic down to the very end of its strands - implying a longer period of constant poisoning.
Only a full autopsy report, Ichigo mused, could decide what really killed Hisana. The presence of arsenic should show up in a person’s stomach and liver ⎯ if not the presence of other poisons as well.
He tried to remember any of the barristers mentioning the autopsy report in court and drew a blank. Ichigo then eagerly pawed through the folders and pulled out the folder labeled “Official Autopsy Findings.”
It was empty except for one flimsy piece of paper.
Inspector Kira’s request for an autopsy denied… the barristers of Byakuya Kuchiki furnished the inspector with Hisana Kuchiki’s last will and testament. It stated the deceased’s wishes to be buried immediately after death. The document further stipulated that there would be no public viewing of her body, and no one, save that of her immediate family, should tend to her remains.
The samples of blood and urine grudgingly allowed by the Kuchiki family to be extracted from Hisana’s body were inconclusive, except for a slight oddity in nicotine levels that Dr. Iemura Yasochika, the Seireitei medical examiner, attributed to second-hand smoke.
Ichigo stared at the words on the page in disbelief. This is fucking unbelievable, he raged.
How could Inspector Kira not press the issue? Did he really think it was enough to be satisfied with blood and urine samples? Ichigo bit down on his lip so hard he cut himself.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck.
Most likely Inspector Kira already fought with the Kuchiki family just to get the evidence they surrendered. After hearing of Byakuya Kuchiki’s reputation, he had to applaud his fellow inspector for getting that much out of the clan.
Ichigo was pissed. Isn’t it strange, he thought, that his Sereitei colleague didn’t take up the matter with his Chief Inspector? A case like this needed a full autopsy. How could Inspector Kira not find the clause in Hisana’s will a bit suspicious? Was he bribed to let the matter slide uninvestigated?
“Damn it,” Ichigo muttered. “There’s something so fishy about this. I want to hit something.”
Someone was hiding the truth and covering up his tracks. Ichigo Kurosaki had a good idea who it was.
He needed to confront Byakuya Kuchiki. Perhaps the man was trying to rid himself of both his generous wife and his new dependent.
What exactly was he doing the night his wife died?
But first, Ichigo punched the wall again. “Asano,” he snarled. “I have something for you to do for me.”
The sergeant’s head slowly peered over the cubicle wall. “Yes, Inspector?” the poor guy squeaked. Looking at Ichigo’s blazing eyes, he didn’t really have a choice in the matter.
Interlude 4.5: At the Chambers of Judge Yamamoto, All Souls Square, Tsubaki-dai District
“Sir, I got a request for you to sign, it’s from the Met.” The bailiff coughed in a semi-authoritative manner. “They want a subpoena to exhume the remains of Hisana Kuchiki. The new inspector on the case thinks the cause of death is inconclusive without a full autopsy.”
Judge Yamamoto cocked open an eye. He hated it when someone from the Met bothered his after-lunch nap. “They should have thought of that before they released the body to the family,” he murmured.
“Your honor,” the bailiff said cautiously, “I believe the family never released the body to the Met in the first place. And King’s Counsel had opted for a speedy trial. It is not my place to say so, but certain irregularities have occurred.”
Judge Yamamoto considered his huge, usually taciturn bailiff for a moment. Hatch could have gone up in the world, he thought, but he was the type of man who was satisfied to be at the sidelines.
“Send in the fool who filed that request,” he said.
After a few moments, the rookie made his appearance in front of the testy judge, who looked even more terrifying, dressed down in his undershirt and boxer shorts. His court robes hung from a hook behind him.
“Sergeant Asano, your honor,” he said, trying to hide his sweaty palms.
“What’s the purpose of all this? Does the King’s Counsel or the defense even know about this preposterous request? I can’t believe the audacity of ⎯ ”
“I don’t know, sir,” Keigo faltered. “I was just asked to present this to you and to wait for your response.” He handed over more papers for the judge to inspect.
A few tense moments passed as Judge Yamamoto tried to decipher Ichigo’s scrawls on the form.
“I have to deny this request,” Judge Yamamoto snapped. “Mere suspicion of other means of death is not enough to dig up someone. Tell Inspector Kurosaki that if he gets a waiver from a Kuchiki family member, and I might reconsider the matter.”
Keigo nodded dumbly. “Yes, your honor.”
The judge stroked his chin. “And tell that fool of an inspector that the accused doesn’t count under the circumstances.”
The sergeant fled the chambers. He didn’t want to be the one to break the news to Inspector Kurosaki.
Chapter 5: Penitence Detention Facility, Sougyoku Hills
Ichigo was waiting in the visitor’s lounge of the detention center. A traffic jam downtown contrived to make him later than he wanted to be, but he still got there in good time. The mid-afternoon light was bright and the weather was balmy. He felt oddly excited, even giddy. Ichigo was not one to force his attentions on anyone before ⎯ much less someone accused of a horrible crime.
Even if Penitence was a minimum security facility, Ichigo was still patted down by a tired-looking guard equipped with a sling bag. His lips were pursed, as if he was weighing something in his mind.
“What?” Ichigo demanded, as he handed over his standard Glock 17 for safekeeping. “I don’t have all the time in the world, buddy.”
“We like to take our time here at Penitence,” the guard spoke up. “Are you in a hurry?”
“Yeah,” the inspector tried to rein in his impatience. Ichigo didn’t come here to chat with Rukia’s gaoler; he came to chat with her. “The person I need to talk to ¬⎯ well, she doesn’t have all the time in world until her re-trial starts. So yeah, time is of the essence.”
“Is that so.” The young guard finally finished his inspection, and took possession of the contents of Ichigo’s pockets, including the tape recorder he had just bought. “Sir, no items of any kind are allowed in the visitor’s room,” he explained apologetically. “You’ll get these back when you leave. It’s policy, just in case the inmates get weird ideas.”
The frown was forthcoming, but Ichigo controlled his features. He could not imagine this particular inmate to start a hostage situation with a tape recorder. Still, there could always be a first time.
The guard - the embroidered nameplate on his uniform said H. Yamada ⎯ led Ichigo to the visitor’s area. “You have thirty minutes. There is always a guard watching on the other side of the wall. You are not allowed to address the other inmates or their visitors. Please remember to keep your hands on the table where they are visible, and you are not allowed to touch each other. Repeated failure to comply may revoke the prisoner’s visitation privileges.”
Revoke the prisoner’s privileges. Ichigo knew all these rules but he never paid much attention to them before. He wondered how he would feel, if freedoms he had always taken for granted were suddenly labeled privileges.
He shook his head. Now was not the time to contemplate such things.
Ichigo sat down in the sparsely furnished room. He was more nervous than he cared to admit. Despite the circumstances he felt he was on a first date. There were two or three other inmates in the area, already deep in quiet conversation with their visitors. Ichigo could easily identify the one-way mirror and the location of a discreet security camera. He placed his hands on the table and looked around. The only difference between this room and the one used for interrogation of suspects down at the Met headquarters was the television that was left blaring in the corner. Most likely the guards also used the room during lights out, there was no other reason to account for its presence. Right now, the television was used as a means to disguise confidential exchanges. Ichigo knew that sort of trick never really worked, but he was amused by the effort.
“…The Commonwealth of Karakura, touted as “the Gateway to Asia” by the glossy tourist brochures, is a handful of islands located south of Taiwan and north of the Philippines. In the middle of the South China Sea and the Pacific Ocean, the Commonwealth is unique for its growing number of islands due to volcanic eruptions, with the island locally known as Hueco Mundo being the largest of the newly formed landmasses, the direct result of the Great Earthquake of 1927.
Despite its strategic location, Karakura has never figured greatly in world events, preferring to stay a secluded and select destination for the well traveled. Briefly colonized by England in the 18th century, it was always a hub for traders from Spain, China, and India while becoming the new home for several Japanese clans seeking to enlarge their fiefdoms during the late Edo period. Occupied by the imperial forces during World War II, Karakura gained its autonomy upon the signing of the Treaty of Seireitei. The Commonwealth is led by its symbolic head of state, the reclusive monarch known as…”
“Are they still showing that history reel? They haven’t changed that since I was in high school.”
Ichigo was startled. Her voice was velvety and deep; it was not quite what he imagined.
Rukia Kuchiki sat down across him, and the guard tried to hide his approval before moving away.
“I think it’s stuck on the government channel,” Ichigo finally answered. Why did he sound apologetic for the facilities? “Someone must have taken away the remote control.”
“…and you know this because…?”
“I use my eyes and ears very well.” Ichigo pointed casually the control panel across the room. “See? Someone jammed it.”
She seemed puzzled that he would notice such a silly thing. “Seems like you use your mouth a lot, too.”
The sarcasm in her voice was mild but biting. Ichigo turned his attention to the woman sitting opposite him.
This was going to be difficult; Ichigo didn’t realize how lovely she was. The distance kept between him and Rukia Kuchiki in the courthouse was apparently too much. Her hair had a shiny rich gloss, and her skin was translucent and clear. In fact, she was in much better condition than the last time Ichigo saw her in court almost a week ago.
The offending red collar was still in the way, of course. Wouldn’t it be so nice to rip it off and gently fondle and nip her neck?
Ichigo unconsciously shook himself. He had no idea where that lustful thought came from.
She surveyed him with slight distaste. Obviously Rukia could tell what had momentarily crossed his mind, or perhaps it was on all the minds of her visitors. She had struck up a tentative friendship with one of the nicer guards. He was the one who to screened the worst of the curious scumbags. Female inmates who figure in national scandals get a lot of unwanted male attention, Hanatarou explained.
Hanatarou went through the trouble of weeding out the nasty and obscene messages that came in her “fan” mail. If he was actually paid to do this, however, he never said. Rukia took it as a matter of fact that the facility would open everyone’s mail.
Why this visitor got through Hanatarou’s radar, Rukia Kuchiki would like to find out. There had been another inspector from the Met whom Hanatarou didn’t let through. Something about the man’s wide smiles made him wary. Rukia briefly considered that maybe Hanatarou had a crush on her, but she brushed that thought aside.
The orange-haired officer’s mouth was still agape.
“Why are you here?” she said curtly to stop his staring.
“I’m here to ask you some follow-up questions.”
“Who sent you? Are you really with the police? I don’t think this is official, because the Met informs my barrister, Mr. Kanonji, ahead of time. I don’t answer any questions without him.” She paused, and it was pregnant with meaning. “Or are you just another pervert who gets off staring at helpless women?”
“No one sent me,” Ichigo’s face reddened. “The guard can verify that my badge is real. I came because I think you need me.”
“You’re mistaken, I have no need of the Met. Haven’t you inspectors done enough damage?”
The bitterness in Rukia’s tone was unmistakable.
“Look, the original inspectors who worked your case,” Ichigo explained, “They screwed it up big time. I want to help you by getting to the truth.”
“The last time someone said I should just tell them the truth,” Rukia arched an eyebrow, “I found myself shackled with handcuffs and being called a liar.”
“I’m not here to pick a fight,” Ichigo raised his voice. “But I won’t stand for being compared to other officers who were possibly incompetent.” Rukia opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. “Nobody asked me to be here, but I am anyway. And I am trying to find new evidence, on my own time. So if don’t want my help ⎯ if you don’t care about finding who really killed your sister ⎯ if you really trust your brother-in-law ⎯ ”
Self-doubt crept into her sullen expression. Her arms were still crossed, as if she was protecting herself from his gaze from across the table, but her face had already crumbled into an ashen sadness.
“I didn’t mean to be rude,” she finally forced herself to speak. “Please sit down.”
Ichigo hadn’t realized that he was so worked up that he was half out of his chair. He sat back down again.
“Please understand, I feel as if I’ve been under duress for the past month.” It wasn’t an apology - it was an explanation. “I have been made to feel that there is no one left to trust.” Unconsciously, Rukia fingered the collar on her neck. “And I don’t like feeling as if I belong in a zoo.”
“Understood.” Ichigo wanted to kick himself for starting off on the wrong foot. “I’m not a sensitive guy. I will try to keep these things in mind.” He took a deep breath. There was no way tactful way to ask what really bothered him, and so Ichigo didn’t mince his words. “Do you think Byakuya Kuchiki set you up?”
“I don’t know,” Rukia reluctantly admitted. Apparently she thought about that too, but had never verbalized her doubts. “He’s paying for the barristers but he has never come to see me. I know he used his connections to get me placed here, instead of the cramped cell in the Seireitei outpost or the maximum security gaol in Hueco Mundo. Mr. Kanonji managed to argue that this location is best for me, since the trial was held here and not in Seireitei.” There was a fleeting spark of amusement in her glance. “I fear that was the last convincing argument Mr. Kanonji was able to make on my behalf.”
Ichigo managed a small smile but his mind was distracted. His blood chilled at the thought of this small woman being sentenced to Hueco Mundo. Everybody from the mainland avoided all mention of the island northernmost of the Karakura archipelago. It was harsh and desolate. The landscape was daunting, with an active volcanic crater constantly spewing lava and metamorphic rock, slowly changing the island’s shape over the years. One side of the island housed the national mental asylum; the other side contained the hardened convicts. Death was supposed to be preferable to a mandatory confinement there.
Rukia noticed his intent expression and continued. “Only Grandfather Kuchiki visits me here, and even he stopped coming. I think… Nii-sama forbade him to see me.”
Ichigo waited to hear more.
“When my sister asked me to stay with them, the only thing Nii-sama said was, I should quit my job. No sister-in-law of his should need to work. I thought he was being kind to Hisana, but I realized it was also… pride.” Rukia checked herself.
“You have a job?” Ichigo was surprised. “It’s not mentioned in your file.”
Rukia flushed indignantly. “Of course I have a job! I supported myself since I was released from the orphanage at the age of seventeen! First I did lots of odd jobs but I finally got work I liked. Have you never heard of my book, The Adventures of Chappy the Bunny?” Ichigo shook his head. “It’s a picture book for young children. The editors - they like my drawings. I was commissioned to make a sequel. But maybe the books won’t sell anymore...” she seemed more sad about the fate of her sequel than her own situation.
Ichigo wished he could record this conversation. He would like to check her work out and he knew he was bound to forget the title she just mentioned. If only, he thought to himself darkly, as supplementary research - for her psychological profiling.
“I don’t want to be thought ungrateful, Inspector, so I’ve been trying to live up to the family expectations, but ⎯ ” her sigh was audible. “As you see, it’s been a failure.”
Ichigo tapped his forehead. He wasn’t sure if they had a lot of time left. “Do you think Byakuya set you up?” he repeated the question.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “ A man like Nii-sama, he wouldn’t marry just anyone. Most likely he was pressured to marry someone posh, like a Shiba or a Shihoin ⎯ ” here Ichigo smirked, having never thought of his boss as posh “ ⎯ and my sister was nobody. Hisana made that clear to me. She felt very guilty we were separated as children, but it’s not her fault that the family that adopted her could only take in one. They weren’t on the level of the Kuchikis, not in a thousand years.”
“So Byakuya married for love but his treatment of you - taking care of the barristers, using his influence to get you into a minimum security facility - this is merely out of obligation.”
Rukia flinched. “If you must put it that way.”
His eyes narrowed with unmistakable passion. “Now that we got that clear, maybe you can help me. Do you trust your barristers?”
“Not all the time.”
“Did you tell them everything you know?”
“Some things,” she shrugged, “They never asked.”
“Tell me,” he said, “Did they ask you why you didn’t bring your sister to the hospital?”
Rukia looked uncomfortable. “But Hisana didn’t want to be brought to the hospital anymore.”
“What! Your sister is violently ill, vomiting blood, delirious, with an abnormal blood pressure, and you don’t stop to bring her to the emergency room against her objections? Her seizures alone should have ⎯ ”
Her eyes blazed and stared Ichigo down. “You don’t understand! Hisana hated the hospital. She wanted to die in peace. I thought she was just having another one of her attacks. She was like that almost every week since she found me. One year together, and we spent half of our time in the sick room.”
Ichigo could not hold that gaze. There was too much pain there. He looked away, ashamed that he was pushing her.
Rukia continued. “Right after finding her, I had to immune myself to the idea I would lose her any moment. Not many people know but my sister was very ill. That mini-hospital in the house? That was equipped for Hisana’s comfort but everyone was told, including the police, that it belonged to Grandfather Kuchiki.” Rukia closed her eyes, as if remembering something painful. “Hisana hid her pain very well when she had social functions to attend, but the truth of the matter is, Hisana was dying of a dreadful disease. She tried various remedies to ease her suffering. She didn’t even tell me what it was. She wanted to save Nii-sama from the shame.”
So this is the real reason why it was stipulated in Hisana’s will that no one was to touch her remains after death, except immediate family members. How convenient for her murderer. His misdeeds would go undiscovered if her corpse was never embalmed or autopsied.
“Inspector Kurosaki?” she asked. “Did you hear what I just said?”
“Yes, I did, I was just thinking….” Ichigo cleared his throat and then changed the topic. “Why are you telling me this now?”
She looked down at his large hands. They had remained flat on the table, motionless, since they began their interview. “You asked me if I trusted Nii-sama,” she whispered. “Nobody ever asked me if I doubted him before.”
Ichigo was irritated. “Nii-sama. You keep referring to Byakuya Kuchiki as Nii-sama. What does that mean, exactly?”
“Older esteemed brother,” Rukia answered. “I’ve never called him anything else. Hisana asked me to call him that. It honors their family traditions. One of the last things she begged of me was to be obedient to the family since they were all I had left.”
Ichigo didn’t want to point out the painful irony of her words. Rukia didn’t seem to notice her own lapse, as she rambled on. “The Kuchiki clan is the first important Japanese clan to settle in the Commonwealth in the 17th century. They predate everyone else - but they’re all related - the Shihoin, the Aizen, the Shiba, the Abarai. All these families originate from the same han. Perhaps it didn’t occur to you that the Kurosaki might be related to them, too?”
The inspector felt that this speculation was beyond the point. “I don’t bother much with ancestry,” Ichigo stated.
“Maybe you should,” Rukia retorted. “A lot of problems in the present can be traced to the wrong-doings in the distant past.”
“Time’s almost up, sir,” Hanatarou materialized by their table.
Ichigo looked up and nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow again, Rukia.” He looked at her with a fleeting ghost of a smile. “Better think of things to help me get you out of this mess.”
Rukia blinked. After all her revelations, she seemed to grow remote once more. “Does my full cooperation mean you get to call me by my first name, Inspector?”
He considered that for a moment, as he stopped to turn by the door. “I guess it does. But don’t worry ⎯ you can call me anything you want.”
As the heavy metal bars slammed shut between them, Rukia Kuchiki was left to consider into the empty space before her. She didn’t have time to think of a witty retort.
Another guard hustled her back into her holding cell.
As she heard the repugnant sound of the gaoler’s key turning in the lock, Rukia lay down upon her bed. She couldn’t see out her barred window even if she tried. It was too high up against the wall but it still filtered in the glow of the fading sunset. The natural light was still more pleasant than the harsh electric lights of the facility after dark.
They would be turning the lights on soon, and she wouldn’t be able to escape the unpleasantness of the drab concrete walls that was choking her spirit.
Rukia didn’t want to disappoint herself ⎯ she had been at the point of despair and this well-meaning young inspector didn’t seem to know what he was doing ⎯ but still, against her better judgment, a tiny flicker of hope began to grow.
Perhaps Rukia Kuchiki wasn’t totally forsaken by the world, after all.
Unbeta-ed, so if you spot any awkward phrases or grammatical errors please point them out. Thanks so much, in advance.
Yet another handy link: Blood/Water: Chapters 6-8