Love's Smirking Revenge
- On A Dark and Stormy Night -
A heavy Tokyo rain thundered against the roof of the squad car, ignorant of the single occupant's throbbing migraine. Dragging heavily from the freshly lit cigarette at his lips he eyed the scene ahead of him through the windshield. Swarms of television reporters and journalists, like flies hovering around a festering carcass, braved the downpour beneath their sleek black umbrellas in the hopes of scooping up some wayward tidbit of information to use in the evening news.
With a muttered comment about how he 'fucking hated reporters' he stabbed what was left of his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray next to him and reached for his jacket in the backseat. Pulling it over his shoulders to shield himself from the cold November air, he took a second to breathe in the scent of leather. It was one of the few small pleasures he had left. Nothing beat fresh leather on a cold day…or a warm day for that matter. With a resounding sigh he flipped up the collar on his jacket and hunched his shoulders in preparation for the cool drizzle that would meet him the moment he ventured out from the warm, dry confines of the car.
The sounds and smells from outside hit him like a wall the moment he slammed the car door shut. The dim blue and red of emergency lights flashed up ahead but the blinding spotlights of the photographer's bulbs were brighter. Within two strides he was encircled by a frenzy of blurred faces and microphones, rudely shoved within inches of his mouth expecting something profound to come out. "No comment," he snarled as he pushed his way through the throng with an irritated grunt.
Detective Takahashi breathed a sigh of relief as he dipped below the crime scene tape and settled into his groove on the other side of the yellow barrier. Grabbing the constable closest to him roughly by the arm, he nodded his head towards the crowd with a scowl.
"Just what part of keep the hounds at bay don't you understand son? Do your fucking job and get those damned reporters out of here!"
The pale faced uniform, fresh out of the academy, nodded his head dumbly as he stumbled over his words.
"Ye-yes sir, of course sir, it won't happen again!"
With a short jerky bow he stepped toward the crowd and began barking orders to step back from the line.
His mouth set firm, Detective Takahashi straightened his shoulders and stalked towards the centre of the crime scene. It was the 49th homicide of the year – he'd been keeping count out of a morbid sense of curiosity – and he was none too enthused about working yet another case on top of his already mountainous workload. For every case he closed, six more were waiting on his desk with no leads, no witnesses and no end in sight. It was enough to make anyone feel jaded at the state of the world.
Upon entering the inner crime scene circle, he was accompanied by a rather nervous but competent officer from 39th division. Apparently the body straddled the boundaries of both divisions, meaning that there would be a messy political battle ahead. There was nothing Takahashi hated more vehemently than office politics. He was of the mind that it was best to go to work, do your job and go home, end of story. He didn't have time to waste on figuring out whose ass to kiss, so he never did. Sure it had probably cost him a promotion here or there, but that was just fine with him. 'Promotion' was just a fancy word for 'more ass kissing' and the less he had to do it the better.
"So what's the story with this one?" he asked gruffly while eyeing the white sheet that'd been laid over the body. A watery blood stain seeped out from the head of the victim. The rain washed it down across the pavement, taking with it any evidence they may have been able to use.
"You're not gonna like this one boss," the officer warned as he flipped open his clipboard and lifted his umbrella to shield both of them from the rain. Detective Takahashi grunted noncommittally – since when was a murder grounds for getting excited? He crossed his arms in front of his chest and tilted his head toward the clipboard. His amber eyes scanned the scribbled notes until they fell on the name of the victim and widened with surprise.
"So he finally paid the Piper," he commented dryly with a low whistle. His eyes scanned the body once more but this time with a new appreciation. He was actually surprised 'Lucky' had been so lucky. He was one of the top rats in the most dangerous Yakuza group to ever roam Tokyo. He'd single-handedly helped to put three top bosses behind bars and was the star witness in several pending cases. It was only a matter of time before someone realized his number was up. With a small smile Takahashi realized that this might actually be a case he would enjoy working. He was curious to know who'd finally taken poor Lucky Akita out to pasture.
"Where's my coffee?" he barked at the officers surrounding him. A few jumped and scampered off, the rest shook their heads and went back to work. Easing his hands into his pockets to keep them warm, he absently jingled his car keys while his eyes surveyed the scene.
"So what do we know so far?" he asked distractedly to the officer at his side. His eyes never wavered from the wet pavement as he stood listening with his hands buried in his pockets. They emerged momentarily to accept a steaming coffee offered to him by a dark haired female corporal. He dismissed her with a slight nod of his head before taking a careful sip. She bowed but didn't immediately move away. Instead she hovered close and kept an ear tuned to their conversation. He couldn't be bothered to tell her to piss off after she brought him a coffee.
"Well it's a single GSW to the head, execution style. Victim appears to have died immediately. There was no gun or shell casings found at the scene."
"That's to be expected," Takahashi cut in. He trained his amber eyes on the young officer's with a look that said 'listen up. I'm about to teach you something important'.
"You see, Lucky here was an informant. It's almost guaranteed one of the mob bosses he rubbed the wrong way in the past put a hit out on him. This is a professional hit for hire. There won't be any evidence at this scene and anything that could've been left behind has long since been washed away."
With a meaningful glare he nodded at the rain laden clouds. A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, briefly lighting up the night before plunging them once more into darkness.
"Don't think this storm was just a coincidence. They take everything into consideration."
The officer nodded his head readily and jotted a couple of additions to the bottom of his clipboard. Detective Takahashi took another slow sip from the steaming coffee cup in his hands and let out a relieved sigh as its heat travelled down his throat and seeped into his bones to warm him from the inside out.
"Damn, this is great coffee. Where'd you get it from?" He turned to ask the uniform who'd given it to him but she was long gone. With a light shrug of his shoulders he turned back to the body and took another sip. Okay, he told himself, time to put the pieces back together.
When the Detective awoke the next morning, it was to the blaring ring of the telephone next to his head. Pushing a half empty glass of what had been shochu on the rocks and an overloaded ashtray out of the way, his hands snaked its way to the phone. Picking up the receiver he jammed it against his ear without bothering to open his eyes.
"What," he demanded, his voice rough from drink and lack of sleep. His head was pounding yet again. He winced as he tried to open his eyes. Thinking better of it he scrunched them shut once more and massaged his forehead with the palm of his free hand.
"Boss it's me. Have you read the paper this morning?"
"Does it sound like I've read the paper?" he demanded irritably.
With a groan he threw the covers off his half naked body and padded across the apartment to the door. Stopping to scratch an itch he pulled the phone away from his ear and yawned. It took a solid back stretch, a loud crack to signify that everything was settling into place and a full body shake before he felt awake enough to open the door. Groaning loudly he stooped to pick up the paper - conveniently delivered to his doorstep by the morning carrier - and carried it under his arm inside.
The door shut behind him and he stumbled over to the folding table set up in the center of his kitchen and sat himself at it. With the phone nestled between his ear and shoulder, he opened his daily copy of the Asahi Shimbun and scanned the headlines.
"What am I looking for?" he demanded into the phone.
The officer on the other end of the line, who had remained patiently silent up until that point, helpfully pointed out that he should turn to page six. Thumbing through the next several pages, he stopped at page six and allowed his sleep bleary eyes to scan its contents. There was a small article about the GSW from the previous night, nothing to be too concerned about. He was about to say as much to the officer who was still patiently waiting on the phone when his eyes fell on a particularly interesting paragraph.
"…the 29th Division has veteran detective Takahashi working the case. Currently there are no leads or suspects and there is a surprising lack of evidence found at the scene. Takahashi has suggested that the 49th homicide of the year was in fact a mob hit, saying that the victim, one Ren 'Lucky' Akita, "finally paid the Piper."
"'Lucky' Akita, as he preferred to be called, was a top informant to the authorities on the movements of several yakuza clans and was scheduled to be the star witness in several upcoming high profile trials. His death is a great loss to our city. This reporter can only hope that Detective Takahashi will take a more serious attitude when it comes to finding the perpetrators of this crime. Considering his less than impressive track record this past year…"
Grinding his teeth together, Takahashi slammed the phone down on the table and panned his eyes to the top of the article. His lips moved as he read the name of the journalist who had somehow infiltrated his information net – Kagome Higurashi. Narrowing his eyes at the blurred greyscale picture of her, he burned the image of her face into his memory.
He threw his morning paper to the floor with a snarl and stalked to the bathroom for a shower. This was just how he'd hoped to start his day - with a pounding headache and some fucking two-bit reporter tearing his reputation to shreds all over Japan. Kagome Higurashi, whoever the annoying little bitch was, was going learn hard and fast that it wasn't wise to tangle horns with Inuyasha Takahashi.
Author's Note: Please feel free to review! This is kind of a new genre for me so I'd love to hear what you think. In case you are wondering this is going to be an Inuyasha/Kagome fic. Thanks!