[A/N: Part 2 of the "In the Spirit of Tradition" series! For Drosselmeyer. So, a single, wild-hair idea has become a series. We're about to learn a bit about the life Sesshōmaru has lived up to this point, and a tiny hint more about his plans for Kagome. Many thanks and cuddles to Drosselmeyer for her *amazing* assistance betaing this mess for me!! Love you, Drossy!]]
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Sesshōmaru could smell the irritation even before his driver got the car door open for him as he approached. Something had happened overnight, and his senior advisor was not happy about having to report it. Ah, well. Not every night could be peaceful. Last night seemed especially insistent on chaos, considering.
He slid into the back seat, not speaking until the door closed and the driver had returned to his seat behind the wheel. “Report.”
The apparently middle-aged man checked over his shoulder before pulling into traffic. “Don’t tell me you had trouble here, too.”
“An unexpected appearance we will discuss later,” he rumbled, still halfway between amusement and annoyance. “Say what you are avoiding, Shippō.”
The disguised kitsune chuckled ruefully. “What gave me away this time?”
“Human cologne cannot deceive an inu nose any better than kitsune illusions, no matter how expensive. The two together accomplish very little. Now speak.”
“Okay, okay, Dad.” The youngster’s laugh sounded more genuine this time, but he sobered quickly. When he spoke again, he sounded grim. “We repelled five simultaneous incursions last night. It took some persuasion, but each group confessed to the same orders. Kill Nishigawa Hideki and anyone with him, capture children if found. They really don’t want the Nishigawa ‘line’ to continue.”
Sesshōmaru didn’t bother to suppress his growl. Overnight, “anyone with him” would most likely have meant a wife or mistress. That he had neither didn’t matter, nor did the fact that he could have defended himself and a mate quite easily in ways no human attacker would ever expect. While their attackers would have been slaughtered, the fact remained they’d been sent in to end what they believed were his blood family. Unacceptable.
“Humans?” he growled.
“Every one of them.”
“How far?”
“Not very. Most, not even into the house they’d targeted.”
“How many?”
“Five teams of six. They were meant to get in and out quickly.”
“Casualties?”
“Only theirs. Four dead.”
“Who?”
“It looks like the Yamaguchi, but there’s something about it bothering me. I’m not taking it at face value, yet.”
“You believe there is misdirection at work.”
“The Yamaguchi haven’t bothered us since we put them in their place back in the fifties. Not seriously, anyway. Their leaders have been wise enough to do their expanding without stepping on our toes, and they’ve generally done the right thing when anyone’s made mistakes. Tsukasa’s only been in power a couple of years. He struck me as intelligent enough when I met him, but he’s running things from prison right now. If this was really Yamaguchi, I have to wonder if they haven’t got some sort of trouble in their ranks.”
“Find out. Be certain. You know I am uninterested in a war now of all times.”
“Of course. We’re too close. A war now would be an unnecessary mess. We just went through the whole ‘transfer of power’ rigmarole, too. It’d be a pain to have to do it again so soon, plus find a way to match your ages—”
“Enough.” Sesshōmaru suppressed both a sigh and another growl. “This is an irritation, nothing more. You will determine the shape of this conspiracy and report back to me. I will decide our course of action then. Are any of those captured of sufficient rank to require my personal attention?”
“Ah, no, not that we’ve determined.”
“Then cut their fingers and send them home. Collect the fingers in a box and send it with the highest in rank.”
Shippō eyed him in the rearview mirror for a moment. “Well, I suppose that’ll send the message they should better discipline their members, if nothing else. You realize it’s probably going to piss a few of their rankers off, though.”
“They are welcome to bring their complaints to me. It is apparently too long since we reminded anyone just whose territory they all live upon.”
“Uh, you want to do that now?”
The daiyōkai fixed Shippō’s reflected, illusionary image in the rearview mirror with an unwavering glare. “Nishigawa Hideki has only four known residences where he may spend any given night. I must presume they attacked all four at once because I never ‘retire’ to any of them with any predictability. Where, pray tell, did they send the fifth team you mentioned?”
“Ah-ha-ha-ha, you did catch that.”
“Where, kit?”
Shippō cleared his throat sheepishly. “They woke me up at two-thirty in the morning, trying to get in the back door.”
“Hn. They came for me, for what they thought were my family, and for my senior advisor. They sought to cripple the Nishigawa-gumi with a single blow. Cut their fingers and send them home with the fingers in a box. Make the usual arrangements for the bodies.
“If their bosses wish to complain, they are welcome to meet with the male they attempted to assassinate, and who maintains the order they are so fond of exploiting. It will not be a meeting they will enjoy. Nor will you enjoy the result if I catch you in another lie, even by omission. You know better.”
The kitsune coughed uncomfortably. “I just don’t want the extra security you’re about to stick me with.”
“You will order it, regardless. If you force me to do so, it will be triple.”
“Come on, Dad, you know I can—”
“In perpetuity.”
“As you wish, Father,” he sighed.
“Is there anything else?”
“Oh! Yes. I’d usually take care of it myself, but it’s turned out a little above my pay grade. A group of our enforcers caught a few people from another clan dealing from a back table in one of our clubs downtown. When they moved to throw them out, they actually put up a fight. It could’ve stayed small even then, but it turns out one of ‘em was the son and designated heir of the Matsuba. We sent him home to Daddy with a lifetime ban from all our properties, but he’s disputing the whole thing and somehow, he’s gotten his father – the boss – on board. They’ve demanded a meeting. Today.”
It would fill some time, at least. He had no need to sleep yet. “Matsuba is currently Ito, correct? Send a car for them immediately, then. If it is urgent enough for them to make demands of me, I should give them my full and immediate attention, yes?”
Shippō burst into laughter. “I thought you didn’t want a war! You’re picking fights with half of Tōkyō today, and no one’s even had a chance at breakfast yet! What happened to irritate you this badly?”
“A…complication…has moved in at the shrine.”
Shippō sobered immediately as he pulled the car into the long drive leading up to the “rural” estate they kept on the outskirts of the city proper. It had been his since the fifth decade after Naraku, when he had begun to foresee the way humans would take over the area. He had fought a number of battles, physical and bureaucratic, to keep it “in the family” over the centuries. It lay relatively near to the shrine, boasted a significant parcel of land around the sprawling traditional manor, and frequently served to remind upstarts just how old a “family” they were dealing with.
“So this complication… Does it need removing?”
“Not for the moment. There is a slim possibility it may prove useful. I wish to wait and watch, for now.”
“But she’s okay?” For the first time, the kitsune sounded concerned. “I mean, I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to her, but… Kagome’s okay?”
He inclined his head. “I will permit nothing to interfere, you know this. Your mother is safe and as well as may be expected.”
“Okay.” The disguised youngster took in a deep breath, held it a moment, then released it. He seemed to relax, nodding as he pulled the car up before the entrance to the manor where the staff in residence had gathered in two straight lines leading up to the open door. “Okay. Everything’s fine. Just a few more weeks, and it’ll be over.”
Muttered mostly under his breath, Sesshōmaru realized the kitsune had not meant the words for him, but to comfort himself. Centuries ago, the daiyōkai would have scoffed at such a thing. Now, he knew it for evidence of a need unmet. He found it at once bothersome that it came from one of his own people and upsetting that it came from his adopted son – all the more because he both shared this need and it could not be addressed at all. Not yet. It rankled.
“Welcome home, Master,” the staff chorused, bowing in unison as soon as he stepped out of the car. He inclined his head in acknowledgement, pausing only long enough for Shippō to close the car door and fall in at his right shoulder before making his way to the door. Someone else would return the car to its place in the garage so that his senior advisor would not have to leave his side until dismissed.
“Go and give the orders we have discussed.” He suppressed a relieved sigh as he stepped through the door and canceled the illusion that had made him appear as Nishigawa Hideki, a human in his late twenties. He had decreed that yōkai in any of his dwellings, so long as there were no human guests present, need not maintain their illusions within the walls. The staff posed no concern at all. Descended from four humans who had known him in the time of Naraku, his Rin and the yōkai slayer Kohaku or the monk Miroku and the slayer Sango, the humans who lived and worked inside the bounds of his four homes and several very specific Nishigawa business enterprises already knew all about yōkai.
While the illusions were necessary when dealing with human society at large, they made his eyes itch and pull uncomfortably. “I would have you present for my meeting with the Matsuba,” he continued. “And Kōga, if he can be pried from his mate. Traditional dress.”
“Oh, crap.” Shippō followed him through the genkan into the house proper, three tails swishing behind him in amusement. “I’ll warn the household, too. Is this going to be Tea Ceremony, or Full Daimyō?”
Sesshōmaru flashed a brief, toothy smirk. “There will be tea, even for the supplicants. They have interrupted my morning, however. I see no need for formality.”
“Oh-kay.” The kitsune shook his head wryly. “The Ito kid’s really gonna wish he’d picked a different day to disrespect you. I’ll see you in about an hour.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
The Matsuba arrived within the hour Shippō had suggested. As ordered, they were led along the outer hall of the manor to a room on the western edge. The exterior fusuma had been slid aside, opening the room to the engawa and the immaculate garden beyond. A zen garden of raked sand lay closest to the house, flagstones and large rocks arranged to mimic islands. Beyond that lay a lush walking garden of flowering shrubs backed and bordered by carefully cultivated bamboo stands, punctuated here and there with stone lanterns along the flagstone path. Somewhere out of sight, a small stream burbled peacefully, powering a bamboo deer scarer that clunked with soothing regularity.
Into this stunningly perfect example of traditional Japanese tranquility, the two Ito men were escorted by one of the house staff. Sesshōmaru sat at one end of the room, flanked by Shippō at his right and Kōga at his left. All three sipped steaming cups of tea. Their human illusions firmly in place, they wore personal yukata only loosely fastened – the better to permit hints of illusory ‘tattoos’ to show beneath the edges of cloth. They faced obliquely into the garden, as though in the midst of a leisurely morning briefing while appreciating the spring garden and enjoying after-breakfast tea.
According to the report he’d gotten from the team sent to collect his “guests”, the Matsuba boss had not even sat down to his own morning meal when they’d arrived to collect him. Indeed, his wayward offspring had to be roused from the bed he’d barely had time to lie in. The elder had even had to scramble to call in the security contingent now cooling their heels in the ultra-modern security annex among Nishigawa security forces. His early-morning summons had put them in disarray, given them no opportunity to prepare. Now, they stepped hungry, barely awake, unprepared, and distinctly overdressed into a scene where their host appeared casual, comfortable, well-rested, and serene.
Precisely as Sesshōmaru intended.
“Bring tea for our guests,” he ordered without looking when the staff member escorting them had announced their presence. “Good morning, gentlemen. Have a seat.”
The only two vacant cushions lay midway down the room, squarely facing the Nishigawa contingent, approximately where supplicants would have knelt to appeal to their daimyō centuries ago. By the way the pair stiffened, they did not miss the significance of the arrangement, nor the fact that every ‘invitation’ he’d issued today had in truth been a politely phrased order. Still, they could obey and be seated or remain standing for the duration of their ‘visit’, risking offending him further and weakening their own position by appearing boorish, besides. After only a beat, the father unbuttoned his suit jacket as they moved across the floor and knelt on the cushions, the son in his flashy track suit only a hair shy of actually stomping like a petulant child with every step.
Amused, Sesshōmaru simply continued to enjoy his tea, gazing out over the garden without so much as a glance in their direction. In truth, the sand and greenery held little of interest to him after centuries of looking at it from every possible location. Most of his attention lay on the two humans as they settled into place. Silence stretched after everyone stilled, waiting. He let it, encouraging the tension by relaxing his grip on his yōki. Heavy and dark, it spread through the room and no farther.
The boy broke first, shifting uneasily several times before he opened his mouth. His father halted him with an abrupt grunt and, presumably, a glare the daiyōkai could not see. They both subsided. He increased his yōki by the merest breath.
Shippō snorted very softly into his cup, the sound far too soft for any but the yōkai in the room to hear. Kōga scratched at his belly very casually. Sesshōmaru suppressed a smirk.
When at last their tea arrived, the two Ito had passed what must have seemed a very long ten minutes in silence. The tension certainly affected them, given the scents now wafting from them: confusion and irritation growing into anger from the younger, belligerent anger mixed with increasing fear from the elder. Good enough. Sesshōmaru gave a nearly imperceptible nod as his staff member retreated.
Kōga set his long-empty cup down abruptly. “Report I received this morning says Ito Hiroyuki reserved a VIP table at Club Shiro last night. Security checked him in at eleven in the evening with several ‘friends’. By one in the morning, they had several complaints from other club goers of suspicious activity at his table. Security followed up and actually witnessed him handing several bags of amphetamines – on-site tests confirmed the identification – off to other club customers.”
He gave a soft, derisive snort before continuing. “Mister Ito was asked respectfully to leave the premises. An argument broke out and turned into an altercation that resulted in the removal of Mister Ito and his associates by force. They were each informed of a lifetime ban from all Nishigawa-gumi properties upon their ejection.”
“It wasn’t even a request!” The younger Ito snapped almost before the ōkami had finished speaking. “They didn’t ask anything. I was simply sharing party favors with my friends. If they’d asked, I’d have told them there wasn’t any business being conducted at all. No one asked, and I’m suddenly not allowed to set foot on any Nishigawa property again? That’s half of Tōkyō!”
The boy stank of lies and outrage. His sire’s anger grew by the moment but seemed to have changed focus to his son. Apparently, the younger man had not been entirely forthcoming with his father, and worse, hadn’t been truthful to his own Boss. The Matsuba leader’s fear had also ratcheted upward significantly, an equal match to his rage.
Shippō set his cup down, too. “Hoh? Perhaps young Master Ito was unaware he played on Nishigawa property?”
Kōga snorted again. “It’s marked with the Clan mon, the same way as every one of our properties.”
“Ah. Well.” The kitsune kept his tone mild, with only the faintest of wry undertones. “Setting aside the well-known Nishigawa prohibition against drug use and distribution, perhaps he truly considered it all party favors?”
“He had more than ten and a half million yen on him, all of which went home with him. Either he’s got the biggest allowance I’ve ever heard of, or he was dealing. On-site cameras caught the exchange of cash for baggies, too.”
“Oh dear.” Shippō sighed in mock disappointment, leaning a little forward to see their guests around Sesshōmaru. “Then is it true what he says, young Master Ito? Will the cameras show you did back-table business without permission on another Clan’s property? And in direct defiance of your host Clan’s commonly known rules? Surely you are not so uninformed that you didn’t know! Could it be?”
Make an ass of himself personally and risk a wounded pride with possible punishment by his father, or professionally and bring his Boss into his mess? The boy had certainly proven himself a fool already. Silence stretched again while they waited for him to decide which route to choose.
“It… I… That isn’t…” The younger Ito stammered, floundering. A faint whiff of desperation finally joined everything else in his scent. “I…didn’t know about any special rules.”
Another lie, but also the wisest choice he’d made since reserving his table last night. This way, his Boss could at least save face after a fashion and his Clan could avoid a war they were ill-prepared to face. At, he likely hoped, the cost of little more than his own wounded pride.
But he had committed two infractions against the Nishigawa, and Sesshōmaru did not intend to let him off so easily.
He would, however, permit the father – and Boss – the first blow. At his admission, the elder Ito had sucked in a hissed breath, flashing into terrified rage. He knew the ramifications here, even if his foolish son did not. The first blow came in the form of an impressively hard – for a human, anyway – cuff to the ear followed immediately by the same hand on the back of his neck forcing his face into the tatami floor.
“Ah! Fath—”
“Apologize!”
“But I—”
“You are my legal heir, but you are not guaranteed to take over the Clan! You must earn it! Now, apologize!”
“A-Ah, ow! I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know! I’m sorry my ignorance made me break your rules! I meant no offense! I’m very, very sorry.” The boy flailed a bit, voice unsteady as he struggled to get his limbs rearranged with a hand still holding his face to the floor, but the last of it he managed to say more steadily.
Sesshōmaru didn’t believe a word.
Still holding his son prostrate, the elder Ito bent low, too. “I sincerely apologize for my son’s foolishness, and for my failure to educate him on the proper behavior. This will be corrected immediately. You will never have such trouble from him again.”
The daiyōkai allowed the silence to fill the room for a moment, then set his own cup down. “Hn. Bring it.”
Kōga rolled to his feet without a word, trotting into the hallway. As primary enforcer for the Nishigawa, this particular task went to him. He moved with a casual looseness to his gait that belied the tension in the room, returning before either human could straighten up from their bows. Between his hands, he carried a small, low table atop which lay a pristine white cloth and a sheathed tanto dagger. With careful, precise motions, he set the table in front of and between the two humans, unfolded the cloth to lay it over the table, and then set the dagger on the cloth along the forward edge of the table.
While he performed his task, Sesshōmaru and Shippō silently rearranged themselves to sit squarely facing their ‘guests’. When Kōga returned to his cushion, it lined up precisely with those of his Clan Boss and the Clan’s senior advisor. He’d regained his seat again before the Matsuba Boss tentatively lifted his head. His eyes immediately fixed on the table, widening in surprise. He must have let up on the pressure on his underling, as well, because the boy also started to straighten only to freeze mid-motion at sight of the items sitting before them.
“Wh-What…” The boy stammered, then winced as his father’s hand apparently tightened on the back of his neck.
“You have each offered apologies for breaking Nishigawa law against the use and trafficking of mind-altering substances on our property.” Sesshōmaru fixed first father, then son, with a level gaze. He kept his voice just shy of a growl. “I recognize the Matsuba do not have such a prohibition. Thus, the apologies you have offered are accepted. For the transgression of conducting unauthorized business on territory belonging to another Clan, however, I will have a more…binding…apology.”
Both humans straightened warily, the elder with an air of resignation as his hand returned to his thigh, the younger of incredulity. His gaze darted among the Nishigawa contingent, and then to his father, as if looking for the joke. When he found only grim solemnity, his fists clenched on his thighs. “Y-You can’t do that…” he argued weakly.
“Centuries of tradition says we can, young master Hiroyuki.” The smirk came through clearly in Shippō’s voice. “Since the inception of our society, it has been understood by all that one Clan should never threaten the financial gains of another by doing business on territory not their own. When necessary or merely desired, permission must always be sought in advance. Violation of such a foundational principle has always been considered grounds for war. The Nishigawa could certainly withstand such a conflict. Are the Matsuba so prepared?”
Yoshimasa, the elder, paled. His son glanced at him, doing a double-take when he saw his expression. Shippō, however, hadn’t finished.
“The tradition in answer to such disrespect is either war or apology,” he continued. “And in our society, young master, there is only one kind of apology sufficient to avert a war.” In truth, the traditions the kitsune spoke of were several centuries older than the ones the humans would be thinking of, as the human organizations had taken their cue from Sesshōmaru’s much older house when they’d set themselves up. In the end, the timeframe didn’t matter so much as the history – and the pertinent traditions.
“Who do you expect to do this?” the boy demanded weakly.
Sesshōmaru raised an eyebrow at him. “The live finger that committed the sin or the dead finger from the one responsible for the perpetrator matters little to me, boy. You will find that it matters a very great deal to you, however.”
If the boy chose to take his own finger, and the responsibility for what he’d done, the daiyōkai intended to take the matter of the ban from Nishigawa properties into further consideration after a year. He would receive no greater leeway in the event of further misbehavior, but the sting of the ban might be lessened. If, however, he chose to force his sire to shed blood in his stead, the ban would remain in place for his full lifetime. It seemed likely that his father would also reconsider his status as heir, at least as far as the leadership of the Matsuba. Probably, the boy would find his life greatly changed in a number of ways after costing his own father – and Boss – so much loss of face in front of another Clan.
The questions now were: what would the boy choose, would his father step in before he made his choice, and would his father accept his choice if permitted to make it?
The boy certainly took his time deciding. He visibly chewed the inside of his lower lip while he looked, with increasing desperation, among the other men in the room. His sire appeared to have chosen to wait, too, and had adopted nearly as inscrutable an expression as the Nishigawa group.
After several very long minutes, Kōga snorted derisively. “Come on, kid. The rest of us have other things to do, today.”
“Nobody’s actually doing this anymore!” Hiroyuki blurted suddenly. Desperately. “We haven’t used swords in a couple hundred years! There’s no point! It’s a dead giveaway to cops! I’m not doing this!”
As the son of a prominent boss, the chance that his face and identity were unknown to the local and national police forces was vanishingly unlikely. Still, he’d made his choice and the Matsuba remained as unprepared for a street war as before he’d walked into the room. Yoshimasa reached for the dagger on the table.
“What? Dad, no, what’re you doing?”
Unsheathed the blade.
“You don’t have to do—”
Caught his son’s left arm by the wrist and slammed his hand down on the table.
“What’re you doing?”
“Teaching you a lesson it would have been better to teach you years ago,” Yoshimasa practically snarled. He held the dagger up. “Take it yourself or I will, but you will not drag the Clan into a war! Take responsibility for your stupidity!”
Well now. Sesshōmaru hadn’t expected this. It appeared the father did not approve of his son’s choice, after all, and rather than absorb the blame and make the apology himself, had chosen to teach his idiot son an uncomfortable lesson. The sire, at least, knew a lost cause.
“No! But Dad, I can’t! This isn’t even—ahhhhhhhhh!”
~*~*~*~*~*~
“I can’t believe he cut his own kid’s finger,” Kōga muttered after the Matsuba had gone on their way, likely headed for one of the Clan’s pet doctors to have the boy’s hand seen to. “Hard to believe humans used to call us animals.”
“We have wasted enough time on those fools.” Sesshōmaru canceled his illusion once more, cuing the others to follow suit. “Have we gained any additional insight on last night’s attacks?”
“Ah, one or two small hints that I may be right about it all being staged to lead us off on a wild goose chase,” Shippō temporized. His tail tips twitched with annoyance. “Nothing solid yet, at least from my end. Have you gotten anything new, Kōga?”
“Nah, nothin’ new. Most of ‘em oughta be short a finger joint by now. They’ll probably be on their way back to their bosses in the next couple hours.” The ōkami shrugged. “The whole thing stinks, though, the way things used to stink back when Naraku was screwing everything up.”
“Hn.” The daiyōkai considered it, as he had done since hearing the news. “Speak your thoughts.”
Kōga tapped a claw on his knee. “We aren’t at war with anyone, but there wasn’t any communication before last night. We’ve got clear signs the whole thing came from the most powerful human group going right now, but they’ve been in good with us for the better part of a century. I hadn’t heard anything about that changing, either. It makes no sense. There’s no benefit to them to suddenly turn coat like this.”
Shippō nodded. “We could crush them like a bug on several fronts and not break a sweat. That’s part of what started me wondering. The Yamaguchi leadership just aren’t that stupid. Seems like there’s gotta be more to this than we know. Yet.”
“Look to their enemies,” Sesshōmaru suggested. “Your thoughts march with mine. Either we have an enemy hiding in the shadows of alliance, or someone has attempted to use us as a weapon to eliminate the Yamaguchi. It is even possible whoever they are expect us to expend too many resources on eradicating the Yamaguchi, weakening ourselves enough to allow them to sweep in and remove us as well. Because we are what we are it would not have worked as they intended, but they could not know that.”
“They could be expecting to reap the benefits of a two-fer,” the kitsune agreed thoughtfully. His eyes, widened with astonishment, narrowed suddenly. “Two birds with one stone. Huh. That…sort of widens the field of possible suspects quite a bit, though.”
“Then you had best get moving.” Irritation roughened Sesshōmaru’s tone a bit. “How go the reunion preparations?”
Both his subordinates grinned. Kōga’s tail tapped the tatami softly. “We’re basically ready now. I still think you’re overthinking it, but after last night I’m not gonna argue anymore. I have four crack security teams ready to move. You give the word and they’ll replace the shadow pairs she’s had ‘til now. They’ll keep her, her family, and the shrine covered around the clock.”
“I’ve got the rest of it ready to go,” Shippō added, excitement clear in his voice. “The arrangements are all made. Negotiations with the Museum will be at the right point by the end of the week, early next at the latest. The formalities won’t take long after that. I have the invitation ready, the display can be assembled in less than an hour, everything’s set. We’ve just got to get there, now. And get her to go along at the start.”
“Hn.” His hands tightened into fists as anticipation thrilled through him. “If you have done as I instructed, she will cooperate.”
He had waited with growing impatience for more than five hundred years. All that time, he’d planned, collected allies, acquired wealth and power, carefully steered events to his benefit. His goal had become clear to him some time before Naraku’s demise, held in abeyance until after the spider hanyō’s defeat. In the chaos of the aftermath, however, events had conspired against him and provided no opportunity to gain what he wanted. Now, however, after half a millennia of patience…
…his chosen mate, his Kagome, finally lay within reach once more. He would not allow anything to steal this opportunity away from him. This time, he would gain his goal.