Somewhat unusually and not entirely to my satisfaction, the elderly Oguni rather than the younger and more hale Takani was the one dragged from bed to assist me once I’d made it to the clinic of my choice. Of course the man’s medical skills were not in question, and at that point my attitude was very much, ‘Any port in a storm,’ but I was conscious of some disappointment at not finding the woman there. Not only had I come to regard her as a useful ally, and someone to whom more details of the night’s events could be given than to the other doctor, she, as the examiner of all the bodies, was already involved in this affair, whereas the old man was not.
Thankfully I had no broken bones, though the damage to muscle and tendon was bad enough. Between the growing swelling that already constricted my movement in some areas and the pain throughout my body, it was more or less a miracle I’d gotten as far as the clinic in the first place. After a thorough and painful (though mercifully quick) examination, Oguni dispatched a preteen messenger — a great-nephew, I thought, awakened to act as the clinic’s errand boy and apparently not averse to the adventure — to rouse someone that worked at the closest icehouse and purchase a certain quantity for use on my various strains and bruises. Then Oguni declared that, though my life was in no particular danger, pressure, cold, and rest would be required in fairly copious amounts to ensure continued full function of limb — and he got to work with bandages.
The pain wasn’t the worst of it, nor the knowledge that I’d been brought so low by such an apparent amateur. It was the prospect of being forced to stay here with these constrictive wrappings on — the one around my left shoulder was already proving particularly troublesome — pressing ice over internal wounds and languishing in ineffectual stillness while the murderer I sought perhaps struck again. The doctor was already musing on the possibility that several days’ worth of motionlessness except for the gentlest of stretches would prove necessary for my complete recovery. And while I grudgingly agreed to be clinic-bound for the entire coming day, to anything beyond that I would not consent. I didn’t declare this aloud, but I was fairly sure the doctor recognized my resolve, for with a disapproving expression he merely tightened up some of the bandages, applied the ice more firmly, and recommended a dose of laudanum.
The latter I resisted at first, a little worried I might have been followed here and disliking the idea of being unconscious or, at best, hazy-headed if my attacker were to strike again; but eventually I gave in upon consideration that, if he should reappear, I would be in no condition to deal with him in any case, and therefore might as well take advantage of the analgesic and the assistance toward sleep while it was available.
Exactly how many hours I was unconscious I couldn’t be sure, but it was mid-morning when I awoke, groggy and breathing shallowly, to find Takani giving my throbbing wrapped injuries another once-over with ice. I wondered pointlessly if they’d replenished the supply or if this was about the end of it; I had a vague idea I had been iced continually as I slept, though that might have been a drug-induced dream.
“Stay still,” the doctor commanded, putting her free hand on my right shoulder to keep me from trying to sit up. “This round’s almost done.”
I attempted some deep breaths; somehow it seemed I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs, and this paradoxically made me crave a cigarette. My voice as a consequence sounded weak as I asked, “What time is it?”
“That doesn’t matter,” she replied firmly, “because you won’t be going anywhere or doing anything for several hours at least.”
I let out a faint breath that was the closest thing to a laugh I could manage at this point. “You are formidable, doctor.”
“That means a lot coming from you.” A faint smile showed on her face, but overall her expression was dark. She probably knew just as well as her associate did how soon I planned on rising and resuming my work, and that there was little she could do to stop it. And as if she didn’t want to hear me say so, she changed the subject by asking, “What happened to you?”
“I had a run-in with the man I suspect is our murderer. Can you send a message to the police station for me?”
She blinked, as if the seeming non sequitur took a moment to parse. Then she asked suspiciously, “What kind of message?”
“To bring my assistant here. If I’m going to be lying around uselessly all day, I can at least get something done through him.”
At this Takani seemed to relax a trifle. “Of course.” She let the cloth-wrapped ice (which had gradually been transforming into merely a wet cloth) fall into a bowl that sat nearby, and, taking this in hand, rose to her feet. “Anything else you need?”
“A package of cigarettes,” I deadpanned. She gave me a very severe look whose reproof lessened very little even when she realized I was joking, and left the room.
When the same boy as last night — if his meticulously wide-eyed enthusiasm was anything to go by, he had aspirations to the medical profession himself — had been brought in to receive a verbal message I wasn’t sure I could put to paper at the moment, then departed, Takani began cleaning up the melted remains, on and around me, of the morning’s icing process. The pain occasioned by the blows I had received was still somewhat numb throughout my body, consequent on the lingering effects of the laudanum, but I thought those effects also accounted for my inability to breathe quite properly, and I couldn’t decide how quickly I would prefer them to diminish. I was still groggy, too, but definitely didn’t want to sleep anymore; there were tasks to be set in motion, even if I couldn’t do them myself.
At length Takani remarked, “I suppose you’d rather not give me details of what happened last night, but it might be useful for me to know.”
“I don’t mind giving you details,” I replied in all honesty. “You’re not likely to get yourself killed doing something stupid with the information.”
“Another compliment!” This time there was definitely a smile on her face. “Though I wonder if that wasn’t really an insult aimed at somebody else.”
Since insulting Sanosuke in his absence only made me miss him to no purpose, and since speaking with these shallow breaths seems to render it wiser to limit my remarks to the more important ones, I got to the point. “A woman named Tomizawa Nori has been stalked lately, possibly by her missing fiancé, who may be the murderer I’m looking for.” I went on to describe with some specificity the events that had landed me here. As I spoke, I came gradually to adjust to the seemingly lower level of air entering my lungs, until my breathing and speech felt almost normal; meanwhile Takani, having finished her cleanup work, leaned against the counter and watched me, as she listened, with critical eyes.
“That’s interesting,” was her eventual remark when I had finished. “Strength and speed but no training or combative abilities?”
“Remarkable strength.” I made a small gesture to the numerous pressure wraps across my body, but quickly returned my hand to its prone position beside me when the motion proved uncomfortable.
“Well, we already knew he was very strong — assuming this is the murderer — based on what Tsukioka-san had to say after he was attacked… but who would have guessed, after that description, he would turn out to be so unskilled?”
I wanted to nod, but there was a spot on my neck and another on my face — already aggravated by the small movements of lip and jaw required for speech — that ached and stung and contraindicated the gesture. I wondered what these bruises looked like from the outside. Eventually I agreed aloud and elaborated. “Sometimes a madman may be superhumanly strong, and these murders certainly have seemed insane… but would a madman have the knowledge and precision required to drain bodies of so much blood and leave hardly any trace of what he’d done?”
“It’s possible…” She trailed off, the fingers of one hand tapping thoughtfully against the opposite arm. “If he’s a doctor or a scientist, that might explain both what he wants the blood for — or at least it would suggest a reason, if he’s conducting some kind of experiment — and also his lack of combat training. Do you know what your suspect’s profession was before he disappeared?”
“Merchant. He dealt in building materials. I don’t know that he had any connection with any medical or scientific profession. It’s not a bad theory, though.”
Mutely she shook her head. Then a long silence fell during which she seemed reluctant to leave the room but unable to think of an alternative. My guess was that, having examined the murder victims and assisted Tsukioka after his attack, she felt too caught up in this simply to walk away, but had no idea what else she could do. Fortunately, as I’d said, she wasn’t likely to plunge impetuously into danger trying to figure it out. It was nice to have someone so level-headed around. Though some part of me put in at this point that having a specific someone a little less level-headed around might have been nice too, in a different way.
The ensuing conversation, broken by wordless periods during which we both, presumably, contemplated the matter to minor effect and I tried to ignore my injuries, brought her up to speed on what details she hadn’t been acquainted with yet. It surprised me somewhat, but I found I really didn’t mind telling her everything about the case; evidently I considered her an even better consultant than I’d realized. Not that it helped. The point we kept returning to was the difficulty of reconciling any rational motivation for the murders with the amount of blood stolen from the victims. Under normal circumstances, reasons for murder were thick on the ground, and if the theft of blood was discounted it was no difficult matter to assign a motive to these crimes. But the theft of blood could not be discounted.
When Hironaku arrived, it was with evident and great reluctance that Takani vacated the room with the comment, “Call if you need anything; I won’t be far off.” I was tempted to tease her with another mention of cigarettes, but decided against it.
“Sir,” my assistant breathed in horror, wringing his police cap between hands that threatened to twist it out of all usefulness, “what happened?” He was looking me over with eyes as wide, and probably just as observant, as the messenger boy’s had been, and I reflected that whatever bruises were not currently covered in bandages must indeed be a sight to behold.
“I may have found our suspect.” And there may have been a touch of flippancy in my reply to his flabbergasted question and gaze.
“And he did this? To you?” Though Hironaku had never seen me so much as draw my sword, ever since being assigned to assist me he’d had an almost unaccountable regard for my strength and combative skill. I knew there were certain rumors that navigated the police force from time to time — quite ridiculous, some of them, though others were closer to the truth — about my history and abilities, and Hironaku must have been listening. His attitude at the moment, however, was more irritating than amusing. He needed to stop goggling at me and consider how to be productive.
I had barely started describing last night’s encounter for a second time this morning — and more sternly than I’d delivered my previous remark as I tried to get Hironaku to think rationally — when I heard a commotion outside the room. Takani’s provoked tone, though raised, was unable to hide another voice I recognized instantly, and I became more irritated than ever at my own immediate pleased reaction to the sound. Only moments later, despite the doctor’s attempts at preventing it, the door flew open, and my difficult-to-deal-with lover entered.
For a few moments I sat quietly in the bed and watched as three outraged people made chaos in front of me — Hironaku outraged at what he considered a gross invasion of an officer’s privacy by a random unrelated party and demanding the intruder remove himself immediately, Takani outraged at essentially the same thing and insisting I needed calm and quiet above all else, and Sanosuke outraged because… well, he was Sanosuke, wasn’t he?
The scene carried a certain entertainment value, especially as I observed the seemingly very effective man-handling abilities of the good doctor, but what humor I could draw from it quickly turned to aggravation as, despite her strength of personality, her strength of body proved insufficient to eject this latest visitor from the room. Hironaku’s comments accomplished little in that direction either, and Sano managed to advance halfway toward the futon with the two of them essentially in tow and no coherent dialogue among the three. So I snapped out an imperious demand for silence, and, despite the pain in my face in so doing, made it loud enough it could not be ignored.
Though he’d undoubtedly come because I was here, Sano didn’t seem to have looked very clearly at me up until this moment, and now his brows went down and his jaw somewhat slack as he took in the bruises and the highly bandaged shirtless upper half that showed above the blanket. “Shit,” he muttered, shaking off the others almost without effort or apparent thought and moving right up to the bed. “You…” He didn’t seem to know what to say, and eventually just added, “Shit,” again. Unlike Hironaku, he had seen me draw my sword, and was therefore fitter to assess the seriousness of this situation. Moreover, he had an emotional involvement that (I sincerely hoped) Hironaku distinctly lacked, which must make this scene all the more distressing to him.
However much I might have enjoyed hearing it, I didn’t allow him to express his concern — assuming he would eventually have been able to — since I was in turn a little distressed by the stricken look on his face and wanted to put things on a more businesslike footing. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
Immediately the outrage returned. “I saw that kid–” he gestured around– “he’s the one they always use around here for running errands and shit — going into the police station, and when I saw this guy come out and head straight for the clinic, I thought–”
In the middle of his second gesture, this one at Hironaku, I broke in. “And what were you doing outside the police station?”
“I was–” Sano cut his explanation short and glanced around. He was glowering, but when his eyes returned to mine I could see the dismay and worry not far beneath. And yet he still had the presence of mind to question silently whether I really wanted him to answer and, essentially, reveal all.
I found I didn’t care at this point. I was glad he was here, but I was annoyed he was here. I appreciated his concern, but not his storming in here and interrupting. And if he’d been waiting around outside the police station for me, possibly hoping to reassure himself with a sight of me alive and well… well, I appreciated that too… and it also annoyed me. This relationship of ours would be difficult to maintain if everything each of us did so continually aggravated the other. But I’d known that going in. The others in this room might as well know it too. I gave Sano an expectant and impatient look.
In response, Sano’s thunderous expression deepened, and he said loudly and with some defiance, “I thought you would come back to my place again after you were done for the night and get some sleep. So when you didn’t show up, I was worried.” His voice dropped to an unhappy mutter as he added, “Looks like I was right, too.”
The phrase ‘come back to my place again and get some sleep’ could potentially have been interpreted in a couple of different ways, but only at a stretch. The expressions on the other two faces in the room — Takani’s in particular — made an interesting picture. Hironaku had some strange larger-than-life impression of me, and if he thought me capable of romance at all, I doubted a former kenkaya fit his mental image of my type. And the doctor knew me to some extent, knew my history with Sano — including the stabbing — and knew Sano even better than that, well enough never to have seen this coming.
As I looked past him at the two gaping people just behind, Sano’s face slowly took on a pinkish hue. Though still angry, still deeply concerned about my condition, now he was also a trifle embarrassed. Well, he had been the one to insist on bursting in here and stalling a police discussion with personal concerns. Though as I saw him square his shoulders slightly, it occurred to me that, chagrined though he was, it wasn’t the disclosure he minded so much as the manner, completely out of his control, in which the information had come to light. I couldn’t say I disagreed.
“Well, as you can see, I took some damage last night, but I’m in no danger now. I was about to tell Hironaku what happened. If you sit down and shut up, you can listen too.”
Sano started in surprise. “You’re not going to kick me out of here?”
“Not if you can behave yourself,” I replied, gesturing to the spot beside my futon. I wasn’t about to admit I might not be physically capable of kicking him out of here at the moment.
Appearing simultaneously pleased and just as disturbed as before, he dropped to his knees beside me.
“Sir…” Hironaku’s voice was half curious and half protesting, with an overlay of doubt. Takani, on the other hand, remained silent. She seemed to have returned to relative placidity after the shock of revelation, but I doubted she knew what to say just yet.
I didn’t give her the chance to think of anything, nor Hironaku any response at all. I simply started again on the story of the skirmish I’d taken part in. After not too long, Sano reached for my hand, and I had to ponder briefly whether I would allow him to hold it. It actually wasn’t that difficult a decision, considering his presence really was a comfort and the others in the room now knew about our relationship. The young man was even savvy enough not to move my arm with the gesture, so I couldn’t complain.
When I’d finished the tale, Hironaku, who had gone a bit breathless without needing any laudanum, said what he’d obviously been longing to ever since the relevant moment in my discourse: “That matches the description we have of Shibue!”
“It does, but don’t get too excited; what I saw was so limited, it could match any number of descriptions.”
“It does seem like it must be Shibue, though, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” I admitted, “it does. We can’t assume, but that is seeming more and more likely.”
“And what about Tomizawa Nori?”
“I spoke to her immediately after my attacker disappeared. Based on what she said about her missing fiancé, I didn’t feel it was wise to tell her he’s under suspicion along with her brother; I just informed her that her stalker may be more dangerous than we had realized, advised her to increase her guard, and told her the police would be in touch. I think now, though, it would be safest to take her into protective custody. Even if this person who’s been watching her is her fiancé, we have no way of knowing what his intentions toward her might be. If he’s our murderer, it’s possible he’s less than entirely sane. I don’t want the woman’s dead body to be the next thing the doctor here has to examine.”
“Thank you,” Takani said quietly with a nod.
Hironaku glanced at her as if he’d forgotten she was there, but must have remembered me discussing details in front of her in the past, for he made no complaint. As if to compensate for that lack of complaint, however, his next glance was at Sano — who had, to his credit, been remarkably quiet throughout this conversation — definitely with some disapproval. But all he said was, “I’ll send someone over there.”
“Quietly,” I ordered. “Plain clothes. And tell her to keep her personal security guards at the house as if she’s still there.”
“Yes, sir. Do you want a police presence there as well?”
I paused for a moment before answering. I had been thinking about this, and, though I’d reached a decision, I wasn’t entirely satisfied with it. If Shibue or whoever he was realized Nori had left, he probably wouldn’t return to that house — assuming it was Nori drawing him there in the first place and not something to do with the building itself. Police walking the grounds would probably suggest Nori’s continued residence, which might invite the unknown man to attack again, which could allow him to be identified more specifically or even captured… except that the attacker I’d fought last night had been so reluctant to allow me, a single officer, to see him, it seemed highly unlikely he would be willing to approach a group of such. A smaller number on patrol might draw him in better, but the average police officer — or even two or three of them — wouldn’t stand a chance against the stranger’s strength and speed. A lack of police presence — using the security guards as bait, as it were — might make Shibue feel safer to approach, but might also, again, lessen the implication that Nori was actually still inside and simultaneously any desire Shibue would have to approach.
“No,” I finally said. “We’ll get reports from the guards if the suspect shows up there again.”
“We’re counting on private security?” Hironaku wondered skeptically.
“The security guards are only a precaution. I’m afraid Nori’s house is going to be a dead end to us after this.”
“And I want the observation of the Tomizawa brother tightened up. I want to know everywhere he goes, everyone he speaks to, and details on every member of his household. If he and Shibue are working together on these murders, they have to be communicating somehow.”
“So less focus on his business and more on his personal life?”
“It would be preferable to cover every angle,” I said with a sigh, “but we only have so many operatives.”
“I could–” Sano began.
I cut him off without even looking at him. “No.” Practically feeling his hand growing hotter in mine with his anger at having yet another offer of assistance rejected, I added quietly, “We’ll talk about it in a minute.”
Sano shifted, made a small grumbling noise, then subsided.
“Yes, sir,” Hironaku said belatedly.
“Send verbal reports with any updates to me here.” I sensed Takani tensing at these words, and guessed she wanted to reiterate just how long I needed to be receiving those reports in this location. Before she could, I added, “I’ll let you know when I’m at home again. It won’t be any earlier than tomorrow morning.” And at this the doctor’s lips and eyebrows pressed together, and she said nothing.
“Yes, sir.” Hironaku hesitated before turning to leave. “Any other orders?”
“Just be careful. Our suspect is incredibly strong, even if he lacks training. He’s been reluctant to let himself be seen, so try to keep to public places or groups, at least for now.” Hironaku was less relentlessly irritating than most of the assistants they assigned me for things like this, and I didn’t want to sacrifice him to the blood thief if I didn’t have to.
With another, “Yes, sir,” he bowed and left the room.
Takani watched him go, then slowly folded her arms and gave Sano and me a very calculating look that seemed to rest longest on our clasped hands. “Well,” she said at last, “as interesting as listening to police orders is, I think this development is even more so.”
Sano’s grin was somewhat sheepish. “Yeah, it’s kinda crazy, isn’t it?”
She shook her head with a wry smile, her eyes still roving over us both. “It certainly is. And I can’t decide whether to scold you about harassing my patient, or scold my patient about potentially hurting you.” And though she spoke lightly, I could tell she meant ‘hurting’ in the most serious sense. It was about the reaction I’d expected from Sano’s friends. God knew how it would be compounded when Himura eventually found out.
And what could I say to her? That Sano’s safety — physical and emotional (probably, by necessity, in that order) — had become one of the highest priorities in my life? I certainly didn’t plan on making avowals of devotion in this woman’s presence, for all I felt we’d become closer lately and today even something like friends. So what I decided on was, “Don’t worry; I’ll send him away if he causes any trouble.”
Seeming to accept this, at least for now, she laughed. “This is Sanosuke we’re talking about.”
“Hey!” Sano protested. “Saitou’s obviously been way more trouble than me today!”
“He has.” And Takani gave me a warning look I knew very well not to disregard. Her concerns were unfounded but understandable; I simply had nothing I was willing to say at the moment to refute them.
The doctor transferred her steely gaze to the young man beside me and said, “I suppose it’s all right if you stay with him, especially if that will encourage him to stay, but you might as well make yourself useful as long as you’re here. I’m going to send for some more ice.” And with that she left the room.
Not wasting an instant, Sano turned toward me, bent over, and kissed me — more gently than his abrupt movements had promised. It aggravated the bruises on my face, but I enjoyed it well enough. When he pulled away, he was scowling again. “You asshole. Why would you send for your stupid assistant and not me?”
“Who says I didn’t send for you? You weren’t at home for a messenger to find.”
Taken aback Sano wondered, “Did you?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I would have, after my work was done.”
Sano looked as if he didn’t know whether or not to believe me, but still, almost against his will, liked what he’d heard. “So you do want me around,” he said in a tone that was equal parts grumbling and flirtatious.
“Of course I do, ahou. How else could I warn you about this new danger?”
Obviously irritated at this implication that, rather than actually desiring him near me, I merely wanted to lecture him, Sano made a frustrated noise and flopped onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow. This allowed me to lie down more fully as well without him towering over me quite so much.
“I don’t want you testing yourself against this enemy,” I said wearily. “I want you to take the same precautions I gave Hironaku: keep to public places and groups as much as possible. I’m going to give the same advice to the staff here. Until we know more about this man and are able to plan an assault on him that won’t fail, I don’t want to give him another chance to get at anyone he thinks might be involved. Especially you.”
“You think he’ll come after me?”
“I have no idea. But if he didn’t know before which investigator specifically is pursuing him, he does now. That may make you a target. And he is very strong.”
“It’s kinda more you I’m worried about at this point. I can take care of myself–” and before I could protest, Sano added grudgingly, “–and I’ll take those stupid precautions — but you’re lying here wounded not in a public place or a group.”
“Then it’s a good thing I have you to protect me.”
At first his scowl deepened at the sarcasm I just couldn’t keep out of my tone, but gradually his face smoothed as he realized that, facetiousness notwithstanding, I was making a legitimate request. He sat up again and looked down at me. “You really want me to stay here with you.” His intonation had the disbelieving flatness of a statement rather than the rise of a question.
“You’re my precaution in this scenario,” I replied, instead of telling him I’d prefer him in that role than anyone else in the world, or something else similarly maudlin.
“Guess I’d better stay, then.” His put-on casualness was a sort of mirror to my professionalism: a mask over what he really meant. He lay back down, and this time didn’t prop his head up but rested on his outstretched arm. After a few moments he said, “But, damn, Saitou, you really know how to scare a guy. Coming in here and seeing you all purple-faced and shit…”
“Should I apologize?” I wondered sarcastically.
He chuckled unhappily. “Only, I didn’t think it was possible. The last time I saw you get your ass handed to you, it was by Shishio. I really don’t want to think you’re up against another Shishio-level enemy practically all by yourself.”
And yet again we were back to the idea of his helping me out on this case. He just wouldn’t let it go. And I was too tired and sore to debate any further at the moment. “Cheer up,” I said, sounding as worn out as I felt. “Maybe he’ll spontaneously combust.”
Somewhat mournfully still, Sano chuckled again.