eggburtshamslic

Recherché Chapter Six

“When was the last time we shared a quiet breakfast Ibiki?”  

“Never,” he said without thinking.  “And since I know you didn’t ask me to come here so you could watch me chew … let’s have it.”

“You have to promise to hear me out,” she said laying aside her chopsticks. “No back answers, alright?”  

“Fine.”

Tsunade leaned back in her seat, her arms draped over the plump bolsters.  “After the third murder, I took a meeting with some of our elderly residents … calm their fears, that sort of thing.”  

“Yes ...and?”

“The way they told it, about seventy years ago, Fire Country was demonized by a killer exhibiting the same characteristics as the one we’re looking for now.  The victims, young women under the age of twenty-five, their bodies drained of blood, abandoned out in the open and no clues left behind. This pattern continued with the rise of every full moon for about a year, and then suddenly it stopped.”

“I don’t remember reading accounts of anything like that--”

“You wouldn’t have; the Great Tsunami of 1771 destroyed most of the town and it’s records.  Back then, most people lived in the countryside and those who inhabited the town proper were transients, here to learn a trade … it was a horrendous loss. What’s known of that time came from the retelling of tales from those who survived.”

Ibiki pushed away his plate, his eyes riveted to hers.   “Would you have me believe we’re dealing with a copycat killer or are you suggesting our murderer is some decrepit old man?”

“Don’t be ridiculous … oh, you’ve finished already? I’ll take that last onigiri if you don’t mind.”

He watched her eyes light up when she plunked a large triangular chunk of rice from the communal plate onto hers. “Lady Tsunade, it’s a waste of time getting riled up over the ravings of the senile or otherwise mentally deficient--”

“That’s what I thought too, at first.” Giving the onigiri captured between her chopsticks a delicate sniff, she popped it into her mouth and immediately, the tiny space between her eyebrows wrinkled with disgust.  Frantically seeking a discreet way to dispose of the offending food, she inelegantly spat it into a napkin of ivory linen.  “Umeboshi,” she spluttered reaching for a glass of water.   “Yes, well … after that meeting, I tried not to think about what they told me." As she was speaking, her left hand slowly moved upward, her fingers absentmindedly caressing the Manju-netsuke that hung from an exquisite jade necklace.  “However, after the fourth murder I felt compelled to do my own research.  You know, I remember when my grandfather used to tell me stories of bizarre happenings in this land; used to think they were fanciful retellings of folklore to frighten impressionable children.”

Ibiki heard those same stories as he sat on his grandmother’s lap.  They were tales of imps and hobgoblins that played tricks on unsuspecting humans, these angry spirits often destroyed crops or made away with livestock.   “Retribution for those who dared defile this land by building factories on sacred ground,” his grandmother used to say.  “All we need do is increase the number of patrols during the full moon, Lady Tsunade.  I know we can apprehend this fiend--”

“If our killer were a deranged human, then yes, I believe you would have apprehended him before now.”  Still stroking at the pendant, her eyes took on a hazy appearance.  “I found several scrolls chronicling life during my great great grandfather’s time ... they all bore witness to the truth of the elder’s stories.” When she spoke again, her voice sounded as if she were far away.  “By the light of a full moon, Senju Hisao and a group of men were hunting in the forest when they happened upon a ‘creature’ in the clearing.  This being and seven other ghostly apparitions were engaged in a ritual sacrifice or so it seemed to them.” She bowed her head suddenly, as if whispering a prayer; her hand covered her mouth as if holding back a curse.

He’d never seen her like this before; pale and trembling as if her words had the power to make manifest these beings of antiquity.

“Before they could get closer to the scene, a pack of wolves appeared out of the mist and chased them from the forest. Those wolves,” she whispered, “were taller and broader than full grown men.” Finally breaking free of discomposure, she added, “Strange days are these Ibiki.  Konoha stands at a crossroads.  Though we strive for modernity, we’re chained to the past by something older than the land itself.”  Her palms crashed against the table suddenly, catching Ibiki off guard. “We have to take extraordinary measures to purge the land of this evil.”

“So, are you suggesting we have the priest and monks ‘exorcise’ the territory?”

“Not exactly.  I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve sent for an expert ... a 'demon hunter' if you will; practically begged him to come help us..”

The palm of his hand met his forehead with a resounding smack. “Why would you do that, ma’am? Have you no confidence in me or my constables?”

“Ibiki, I trust you implicitly--”

“Poppycock!  If you trusted me at all you wouldn’t have--”

“Mind your tone, Inspector, besides … I can’t undo what’s been done. Dr. Umino Tadashi will be arriving in Konoha any day now and I want you to be present when I meet with him. You’ll need to keep an open mind--”

“Umino, you say?  He’s dead Lady Tsunade.”

She lurched forward in the chair, “What?  Who told you that?”

“He did, well … I mean, his son did.  Such an odd surname around these parts ... I had to assume they’re related--”

“Son?”

“Yes, ma’am.   Umino Iruka was one of the three young men I met with this morning; said his father died in May of this year.”

“Hmm... I received Tadashi’s response to my letter in April.  Of all the rotten luck,” she said, sinking back into her seat with a sigh, “here I was, pinning my hopes on his advice and guidance--”

“As I’ve said, we don’t need a ‘demon hunter--”

“Well if he’s dead now . . . that’s a problem.” Once again, her fingers found and rubbed at the netsuke.

“How do you know of these people ma’am?”

“Don’t you remember?  Hmm … maybe not, you might have been in the military, no ... you were too young back then.  Dr. Umino worked at our hospital for years; his wife was a clerk in the old Admin center.”

“Based on what I heard, Lady Tsunade, I just assumed they were Water Country folk.”

“A small family, the Umino’s ...two of the brothers married into the Shimizu clan; Tadashi and his brother studied medicine in Water Country and moved here for advanced training … both their sons were born in Konoha.”

No wonder I couldn’t pinpoint that dialect, he thought.  It was a mishmash of language from Water and Fire countries.

“In those days, Japanese medical students flocked to England to learn new techniques, unfortunately, they didn’t have enough translators for their textbooks or teachers for the classroom, so Koichi the elder brother, accepted a position in London, or was it Cornwall?  I can’t remember now,” she said.  “Anyway, Tadashi and his family went to live with Koichi a few years later.   My aunt and Tadashi’s wife Amaya, were good friends ... maintained correspondence for years.”  

And that explains why his accent was so strong; he received the bulk of his education abroad.

“Last time I saw Iruka, he was about five or six years old.  Cute little boy, very mannerable ... chubby cheeks, a big smile and painfully shy,” she wistfully said.  “Shame he couldn’t follow in his father’s footsteps as a doctor; didn’t have an interest in biology nor the stomach for the blood and guts of anatomical dissection, I’m told.  At some point, Tadashi developed a close friendship with a man named Yamada Kenichi, a teacher of philosophy and a student of ancient religions and the supernatural.  He was also something of a detective, an authority on things that go bump in the night.”

Ibiki rolled his eyes and huffed, “Lady Tsunade, I fail to see how any of this information pertains to our current situation.”

“Part of my research led me to a box filled with my aunt’s old letters, that’s what prompted me to contact Tadashi in the first place.”

Shifting about in his seat, Ibiki tried to keep his expression bland, and his eyes open; the combination of a big breakfast and the Governor’s historical ruminations were easing him into a cozy kef.

“After Mr. Yamada died, Tadashi took up his research and became obsessed with it; some, including his wife, said he’d gone quite mad. He spent the last fifteen years of her life tracking down a ruthless killer like the one roaming about Konoha now.”

Ibiki straightened in his seat at that.  How could the same murderer be in two places, an ocean apart at the same time?

“The last letter I found informed my aunt of his wife’s passing; I have to assume Iruka wrote it.”  

“I hope you’ll pardon me but, this talk of ghosts, monsters or whatever the hell they are, is something I can’t stomach.”

“What? Mr. ‘I’ve seen everything and nothing rattles me,’ is jelly-legged about the supernatural? That’s rich.” Toying with the lump of rice hidden inside her napkin, she said, “I understand something like this is hard for a logical mind like yours to take in and process, but I have a feeling Iruka and the book he has will be quite informative.   If nothing else, we can get a good laugh from it.   Now, what I need you to do is find out where he’s staying... we’ll set up a meeting and talk things over--”

“There’s nothing to discuss, ma’am.  Be it known right now, I want nothing to do with this foolishness!”

Suddenly, her face flushed and her eyes angrily narrowed when she stood. “It doesn’t matter what you want or what you’re comfortable with.  We’ve eight murders and no suspect in custody; face it, traditional methods of investigation have failed us.  You will do as I’ve asked Ibiki and that ends our discussion.” Stiffly nodding her head toward him, she added: “Good day, Inspector.”

Rising deliberately, he curtly bowed, his eyes icily locked on hers. “Thank you for breakfast . . . ma’am,” he said, before turning on his heel.

Once outside the complex, he retrieved his cigar and bit down hard on its tip.

Has everyone except me, lost their damn mind?  

Demon hunters . . .  exorcists . . . the writings of two crazy old men taking precedence over reason and sound police work!

What the hell’s this world coming to?

When he strode toward his office, the people parted before him again, this time in fear; he looked as if he’d snap the neck of the next person who dared speak or even look his way.  Veering toward the stables behind the constabulary, angry, confused and stung by what he perceived as betrayal, he snapped in the direction of the hapless stable master who’d come to greet him.

“Saddle up my mount,” he said gruffly, flinging a chit toward the man.  “I want him outside the front door of the constabulary and ready to go in five minutes. Got it?”

Thankfully, the squad room was somewhat empty, save for a few patrols handing in their reports; they had the good sense to lower their voices and step away from him as he approached the watch commander’s desk.

“Ryota,” he said, snatching up the matchbox.  “Where were those bones found this morning?”

Guess I don’t need to ask how his meeting with the Governor went.   A side drawer squeaked open and before Ibiki could draw in the first puff of a fresh cigar, Ryota was spreading a map of the town across his desk. “Here,” he said pointing to an area of the forest west of the lumber mill.  “The bones were collected and delivered to Genma’s office about ten minutes ago.”

“Those three young men … find out where they’re staying; Governor wants to meet with them as soon as possible,” he ground out.

“Shouldn’t be difficult, the inns are empty since the Tsukimi Festival was a bust. I’ll get that information to Miss Shizune personally,” he said refolding the map.

When next he looked up, Ibiki was gone; the sound of horseshoes clattering over cobblestones in the town square, was all he could hear.  

Recherché

After a brief meeting with the Governor’s assistant, Iruka returned to the inn.  Bolting the door, he covered the room in less than ten paces.   Retrieving the valise from underneath the bed, he knelt in silence letting the disappointment subside as the familiar aroma of pipe tobacco rose from deep inside the case. He found himself rubbing his hand across the smooth cool leather, fortifying the connection to his father’s spirit.

When he was able, he plopped down on the bed, separating the upper compartment of the valise from its lower half, revealing a small cache of weapons.  Knives and ancient talismans lay beside vials of water and holy oils blessed by the priests in England; they believed as he did, that demons walked among the living and they’d offered prayers on his behalf.  Next to them were notebooks written in his father’s cramped handwriting; the old man’s eyes, dimmed by sickness and his mind, inflamed with fever when he penned these notes. At the center of the valise was a scroll bound with leather straps – it contained Umino Tadashi’s final instructions and precautions for using the weaponry and the other tools of the trade.

By now was his vision distorted by tears which refused to fall; his hands trembling with rage as he unsheathed one of the knives.

“Father, I swore to avenge you and today, I reaffirm that promise.  As I come one step closer to fulfilling my purpose in this life, may your spirit guide me.”

His left hand swept over the talismans.  “I vowed on your grave to carve out his heart … a tribute to you for the suffering experienced at his hands.”

The weight of the blade, unfamiliar yet comforting in his right hand; this was the very knife his father used when he struck down two members of the same family line Iruka now determined to bring to its end.

“Across foreign soil and one continent, I’ve tracked him down.  As you predicted, he’s returned to the land of his origin.  Here in Konoha will he take a bride and spawn a legion of demons more powerful than he ... but I’ll not allow that Father.”

At this point, his breathing was labored and he feared the same madness which brought his father to ruin, was staking its claim on him as well. His tight grip on the knife’s blade dug into his palm, the pain serving to strengthen his determination.  

“Father, grant me wisdom and cunning, for the life of your only son depends on it.”

A twist of the wrist and his reflection in the shining blade stunned him; his eyes were wide and wild as he brought the cutting edge to his lips. The kiss of cold steel and a trickle of warm blood filled his mouth as he spoke these words against the two-edged blade:

“I will not fail you Father, for this is my vow.”

NOTES:

Manju-netsuke:  Netsuke, miniature sculptures invented in 17^th century Japan to serve a practical purpose; it was a carved button-like toggle used to prevent the contents of a pouch from spilling out.  A Manju-netsuke was thick and flat, with the carvings usually done in relief; they were sometimes composed of two ivory halves.  

Tadashi:   correct, loyal, righteous.

Kenichi: strong, healthy, first son.

Yamada:  mountain rice field.

Kef: a state of drowsy contentment.

April 12, 1771, the Great Yaeyama Tsunami was triggered by an earthquake.

Koichi: “light/shining first child.”

Amaya: “night rain.”