Chapter Text
“Whether he consciously targeted the Sheathed or if we’re dealing with routine human brutality, it bears no true weight. The Council doesn’t pardon because it’s useless; all we have is punishment or allegiance. For now, we need Hagiri and all he knows. Only this matters.
Uh, oh.
She gasped and almost froze a second too late.
Of course. What were the odds of dear Sarayashiki’s lovely background serving as the theater of her downfall? Not like she had engraved her fate there, becoming the last face hundreds of humans saw before they were yanked away to only God knew where.
Botan had done so well all those weeks. Getting noticed day 70 into the mission was cruel irony. And all it took was one spicy cat’s hissing, and all newfound pride shattered down that building’s forecourt. Turned out, she had indeed been the weak link all this time within the team.
Time stopped when her eyes met Hagiri’s chilling glare. Her trembling fingers tightened around the cool oar under her hips, but she did not dare go any closer. The sight of his pointed gun filled her with more disgust than fear. Just for that instant. A jasmine sticker on the hilt… He liked that gun the least, didn’t he? She had only ever seen him drive off with it to blow the shoddy scoundrel’s brains off. Gruesome man.
Was she really no better than those who died by it?
Distant sounds of cars, laughter, and fights breaking in balconies failed to fully settle within the cracks of the unease between them. There were no lights inside his apartment, the full moon’s delicate hue did what it could. As good as her perception was in the dark, she would have likely missed him and been shot if it had been a different night. Hair stuck to their faces, and their clothes fluttered.
Hagiri spoke first.
“Now,” he drawled in a voice deeper than she remembered, moonlight catching on the barrel. “What do we have here?”
The grip she had on her oar tightened, but she endeavoured to stay calm. Placate him, she thought. How? They said he liked the part where his prey loses all senses—she had seen it too. Dark stains soaked his jeans, akin to black holes the moon had only made more visible. So who knew what he was doing earlier… even though, the picture was teasing her. Just obvious. But if she thought too hard about what he may have done, they wouldn't be able to mediate.
Blood’s metallic stench made her scrunch up her nose, her throat constricted. Hagiri had come back limping that night. And stupidly—a worry-wart with no regards for her own good—she attempted to check on him. Well, spy on him was more accurate. The almost-usual. And here’s where her worrying landed her. Koenma was right. Killers didn’t need your kindness. Years of dealing with a walking dirk like Hiei should have driven the point home by now.
Hagiri’s violet eyes narrowed dangerously at her quietness, sending a shudder through her soul.
He may have been human, and usually humans shouldn’t be able to harm her in her spirit form, but Sniper had supposedly grown strong enough to attain intangible bodies. And she didn’t want that theory proved by getting drilled up right there and then. That’d hurt and ruin several jobs.
A high-pitched meow caught Botan’s attention. She snapped her stare to the side… and there she was on the railing, the little traitor who had exposed her presence in the first place. Botan knew Chihiro wasn’t fully guilty. Playing with and treating the target’s pet hadn’t been the brightest idea. She shot herself in the leg on that one. But still, she couldn’t help feeling betrayed.
“What in the…”
Botan read the lines again and again. It wasn’t much that she didn’t believe them, it was just… The kind of dread that comes with others’ life-ruining decisions, and you can’t undo anything for them. They themselves can’t undo any of it. So their peace just lies there, shattered.
On the evening of March 19th 1998, Hagiri Kaname, 24, violently assaulted a human under the SDF’s protection—Oyama Junpei, 32. The victim was left for dead and narrowly stabilised after intensive care in one of the Spirit World’s camps in the Human World. The Death Announcer had to keep his file in pending for almost a full day. Oyama was then secretly moved to a hospital in Okinawa under a new name to pursue his full recovery.
According to the SDF agent who rushed to the scene after she felt an aura disturbance in the atmosphere, no trace of Hagiri remained in the area. The likely reason for the attack had not been accepted—that space on the file stayed blank.
Koenma hummed by habit as she read the words one last time, a deep-set frown on his face. She mirrored his expression. “Has any sentence been pronounced?”
“There were rather… delicate technicalities to deal with. We’re not at a stage where we can comfortably pronounce punishments yet.”
She blinked in confusion. “Haven’t crimes against The Sheathed been punished promptly? That’s a serious offense.”
While it only took a couple of years to fully lift the veil between Demon and Human realms after Sensui’s forceful attempt, the tear the world had suffered had never mended itself.
More humans had developed powers in reaction to the demonic radiations, and they manifested differently compared to those of children born after the union between realms. Spirit World officials declared the radiated individuals would be under their protection; a new human class that earned the name of Sheathed. An honorable move on paper, to prevent harms akin to the trafficking demons had suffered at the hands of the Black Black Club for decades. But by offering protection, Spirits had hoped for a return: run tests for research, enroll these humans’ powers for labor and jobs even the SDF wouldn’t bother themselves with. Not much different from how Kuwabara himself was exploited, even if he would never see it like that. At least, now, they were mostly reaching out to grown ups.
The Sheathed were grouped by criteria: control over their gifts, the types of powers, and how rare they were. Some were forces to be reckoned with, but most were highly vulnerable. The Spirit World wouldn’t allow those they coveted to lose their lives just yet, though. That explained why Oyama was guarded by an SDF agent at all times.
…What will happen to that agent now?
No attack of that extent had been recorded on the Sheathed until Hagiri’s wrath.
“Yes, they have. This instance’s different,” Koenma shifted in his seat; a stiff hand smoothed his clothes.
Botan caught his lingering eyes on an open file atop his desk. She walked steps closer, squinting to make shape of the text as he continued. “Hagiri’s also a Sheathed. So, for one, we find ourselves arbitrating a violent crime between two people under our protection. It doesn’t help he’s an oddball himself.” He sighed, fingers climbing to rub his temple while the other hand fiddled with the paper’s corner. It’d wrinkle uglily soon. “A couple of officials wanted to involve demons and ditch part of the responsibility on them. Just catastrophic.”
Botan’s eyes tore from his hand and snapped to his face in disbelief. “I fail to see how this would fall under their responsibility, my lord…?”
Unbelievable. Was now any tragedy to be placed upon the Demon World’s bill? Since the veil has been lifted, it wasn’t the first time accusations were thrown around and traveling demons were blamed for influencing and instigating quarrels between humans. King Enma’s admission to his wrongdoings was supposed to mend wounds and the relationship between the two realms, but unfortunately the majority of spirits’ outlook on demons stayed unchanged.
Koenma bit on his pacifier and winced—his nervous habit. Though how his teeth stayed strong with all that chewing on a diamond-hard bubble was a wonder. “The team’s last report after Sensui’s death. You remember that, right? All of them were interesting cases with great powers… and Hagiri stood out for a particular reason.” He held her confused gaze. “What was it?”
By team, he meant the agents who monitored Yusuke’s fights against Sensui’s men from afar. She frowned, bringing an index to her chin as she combed her memories for the answer. “It’s been so long… I don’t think—” Her eyes flew wide, a realization flooding her like iced water. Her hand fell to her side. “He uses demon energy.”
He nodded to her.
“How does it make any sense?” Her fists trembled at her side. Was there something to break in half nearby, she’d have reached for it.
“As a matter of fact, he’s one out of only five registered cases so far… rare among the Sheathed. In contrast, Oyama’s use of spirit energy is the purest. So much so, he’s been regarded as a potential spirit detective for quite some time, now.” His fingers tapped in a nervous rhythm against his desk. “Not that I agreed. I must have gotten too soft… he’s not exactly palatable. Thinking of it, someone like Yusuke would have never made the cut nowadays.” He sighed. “But, you understand now things are complicated.”
His statement on Oyama’s character piqued her interest, but not enough to deviate from that line of talk. Koenma enjoyed throwing bones in other directions to gain himself time.
“Oyama’s endurance is impressive by all standards. Yet, he lasted little against Hagiri’s blows. Makes me wonder just how dangerous Sniper would be if he refined these abilities some more…” He pondered, the file fixed flat by only his eyes. “It’s only been six years, and without—”
“I don’t get it.” She cut him off.
He didn’t look surprised when he stared up at her.
“Why are we blaming demons for him?” She stiffly sat down across from him, feet taping the floor, agitated. “He’s a human doing what he wants. There’s nothing linking him to the demon world.”
“Well… he acted on demon’s behalf by joining Sensui. That and his powers are reason enough.” He scrambled to add at her glare, “For the Council, anyway. That’s how they see it.”
“B… but he didn’t care about Chapter Black! He said so himself. All of this he did to quench his boredom. He wanted to see the world burn to ashes. He’s…”
“Botan.” The finality in both the new king’s look and voice made her stop.
She sank in her chair, voice brittle. “And I’m supposed to sit here, listening to you raving about how strong that… that Sniper is.” She found laughable how hard it was to curse him. Hagiri Kaname did not deserve an ounce of courtesy. At least not from her.
I hate him. That thought slid easily in her head, frightening.
Her friends had bled and cried and collapsed to preserve all realms, when they should have been going to school, traveling, playing, spending time with those they loved. After all they’ve given, they still struggled to get their due respect from spirits. And now, this man was justifying that belief—anyone associated with demons would never be good enough.
Very far, past images flashed in her mind. Her first and only ‘encounter’ with Hagiri was when he almost drilled her up with marbles. She had never been the kind to hold serious grudges; in fact, she found it easier to forgive those who had done her greater harm. People who tried to kill you as a bunch usually wouldn’t try again when they’ve repented. That rarely was personal in her line of work. Early reports in the first year since Sensui’s deeds had predicted, now inaccurately, that Hagiri would change for the best.
And yet, whispers kept crawling at the back of her head. Why am I more angry at him than at ourselves? At myself? Spirits would still hate demons, even if he was never born in the first place. She chewed on her lower lip. Oyama had likely done something to Hagiri, hadn’t he?
Botan wasn’t one to condone violent revenges… but the Spirit World was quick to condemn any violence regardless of motive. The past was just that—the past. They grew up with a philosophy that said memories shouldn’t dictate your actions. Leave it to judgment. How ironic.
“I’m sorry,” she forced out, bringing her arms around herself, “Emotions. You know I easily get carried away… that was out of line.”
Koenma’s eyes softened, trained on her as she stood and paced around the room, her eyes zoning out, focus empty. Though how easily he took her apology left a bitter taste in her mouth. “It’s fine. I rarely bring easy news to process when it comes to you.”
At her silence, he loudly cleared his throat. “As I told you before,” he said, a small sight of relief escaping when she turned back to him, “We pronounced no sentence. I’ve convinced them we needed time to see if we could rehabilitate him. No one’s ever a lost case, and we know for a fact he hasn’t received proper support after he fled Mushiyori City.”
Her eyes widened. “The Council agreed to rehabilitate him? That quickly? But you said earlier they almost involved the demon officials.”
“What’s our realm if not a weathercock, isn’t it so? To be fair, I did press the decision after looking at the SDF’s most recent reports on the Sheathed. There’s some authority I should learn to exploit.” Koenma pensively rubbed his chin, fingers finding the edges of the file again. “They couldn’t find proof of him assaulting anyone who didn’t operate in his field. If they had, it’d have been easier to sentence him for good.”
Koenma was keeping things from her again. Even a child would see it. And he was willing to be this agreeable about it so long as she ignored it.
Hagiri Kaname killed for a living. What much could you do far from the authorities and civilians’ eyes with an ability such as his? And a viable reason for why the Council would want to ‘rehabilitate’ him was that this way, they could track down and monitor all of Hagiri’s allies. Criminals didn’t bother them. If they did, King Enma wouldn’t have stayed in power for that long.
“There’s definitely something that pushed him to go after Oyama, then?”
And you won’t tell me unless I get roped into this, she thought.
He nodded. “Shunjun is dealing with it.”
She approached his desk once again, part of her agitation long thrown out of the window. There was no use being angry. She would still do what would be asked of her anyway. “As I understand it, you’ll have Hagiri under surveillance. Sending the SDF is our best bet, but aren’t you afraid he’s noticed them lingering by now?”
The SDF was always a disaster waiting to happen.
“We thought stationing someone who could easily blend into the masses would be the best outcome. Someone who’s lived with humans, who’s hard to kill as much as she’s unthreatening.”
There it was. She narrowed her eyes, taking a step back as she wrung her hands uncomfortably. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Botan,” he implored, “Leaving it to the Council isn’t in our best interest. I already said I’d handle it all. Please.”
“I…”
“Are you deaf?”
Botan flinched as Hagiri’s voice brought her back to the present.
“I…” She started, swallowing the fear down. It didn’t do much good to be scared. Yet, she was scared. Disgust had long faded away, and so did her courage. “Well, it’s quite a long story, actually.” She nervously laughed. Stay calm. He likes when you panic. Don’t.
His expression didn’t shift one bit—he still looked like a predator ready to crush her to her loss. There mustn’t have been a single time in his life when he looked anything but. “Make it short.”
Oh, I wish I could. Believe me. There was no shortcut to their predicament; it was either she told the whole thing or… or she could say ‘I’m keeping tabs on you so my boss can decide whether to lock you up or not.’ And that’ll get her a bullet right through the skull.
Suddenly, it hit her. Wait a minute, maybe babbling could save her for once. Or at least give her enough time to signal for help. That was her chance, she was wonderful at babbling her way out of things.
“S-Such audacity you have there!” She meant to sound confident, but the wavers in her voice weren’t agreeing. As discreetly as she could, she retrieved her communicator from her obi and flipped it open at her lower side, her kimono’s overflowing fabric, and the darkness, shielding it from view. “What business does a ferry girl have here if it’s not ferrying souls? People die. The world doesn’t stop spinning just because your curfew’s up.” Her index ran across the keyboard to find the emergency button that was supposed to establish an immediate connection with Oho, her case’s observer. Once it’d be on, she’ll know everything. Botan wasn’t sure if Oho would win a fight against Hagiri, but swift retreats with deadweights were her specialty. May I don’t drop it.
He raised a brow at her, whether offended or intrigued, she didn’t know.
With all that blood on him, there was likely a soul or two to take care of tonight.
The thought made bile rise up her throat.
His arm hadn’t relaxed one bit, barrel still pointed squarely on her. “Yet, there’s no one with you. Where’s the dead?”
He can’t see souls, can he?
“Around here.” She quickly replied, stiff, clutching the communicator like a lifeline. Did it turn on? She hadn’t paid attention for the familiar vibrations.
“You seem competent, you must know where to aim.” He lightly gestured to the surroundings with his gun, “I’m very much alive, and you hear and perceive the neighbours. Why here?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “You’re 54 residents in this building.”
“Which floor, then?”
No soul wandered around here, not even lingering ghosts. The neighbourhood was painfully clean and blessed. This was dumb. She was so stupid.
“I’m patrolling. Sometimes people’s time has passed, but they hold on nonetheless. I always check when their time is first due. Life’s a wonderful thing.” She started to move away from the railing, slowly, a small, polite bow to him. “Mortals can’t know those details. I hope you understand.”
Surprisingly, Hagiri stepped away from the railing too, his body angling away from her.
That’s it?
Of course, her hopes were short-lived. He pulled the slide of his pistol back, performing a press check.
Wait… he held me up at gunpoint without being sure his gun was loaded?
She barely had time to digest how ridiculous that was when he swiftly pointed at her again, stopping her dead in her withdrawal.
“Tell me,” He said. “Do you also ferry your kind to the other side?”
“I… No, it doesn’t happen. What kind of—”
“Is it possible to ferry yourself to the other side?”
“I’m not—” Her eyes widened at the wild smile stretching his lips. Oh, there he was.
“Let’s see that.” Sickening amusement tainted his voice.
“Woah there! Wait, a—”
A red beam appeared at the barrel’s mouth and the shot exploded, deafening.
Bang.
Botan’s eyes were squeezed shut so tightly she wasn’t sure they’d ever open again, her heart caught in her throat, nails digging splinters out of her oar. She braced herself for a pain she had only heard of from the dead. But that never came, the crumbled wood at her quicks was the worst sensation that made her realize nothing touched her. She was whole and well. She hesitantly, difficultly, cracked one eye open, then the other. Her hands patted her body around frantically, until a splinter sank deep and made her whimper, finger pad brought to her mouth. As she soothed it, her eyes found Hagiri again and…
For the love of—
His gun glowed red again, and he fired a second time.
She yelped and messily guided herself to the side, narrowly avoiding that bullet. A red ray raced right by her, a few inches from her shoulder, before vanishing into thin air. Only sparks remained, like those of a firecracker.
The bullets were neither solid nor made of the lukewarm, familiar power running through her body.
Demon energy bullets.
Neither demon nor spirit energy was audible and visible for normal humans. The laughers and arguments around them hadn’t stuttered once. The couples in the complex’s park below stayed unbothered, still embracing and whispering sweet things to one another.
Chihiro’s white ears twitched, probably, blessedly, only picking up a lower frequency from the shot. She was the only one whose head was hurting, good.
Botan stiffly regarded Hagiri as he walked to a small smoking table on his balcony and put his weapon away, his hands busy with something else.
Muscles painfully tightened at her jaw. “Hey! What the hell was that!? Who in their right mind assaults a girl who’s just doing her job? I’ll have you—” Her eyes widened. Wait… Is that? Oh, God.
A familiar purple device, circular and shiny, sat on his palm. Oh, hell. “Give it back!” She flew closer before coming to a sharp stop two meters away from the railing as his free hand settled meaningfully behind a forgotten spoon on the table. She swallowed the nervous lump. There was no being safe with him, he could shoot her with anything. Waiting for the gun to be discarded was her first mistake.
“I don’t think I will, no.’ He sent the communicator flying in the air, tauntingly, and caught it again with a firm grip. “That looks cool. What do you do with it?”
“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.” Her quicks had started to bleed, the sting worse as the air grew damp. It’ll rain soon. “Please… Give it back.”
Hagiri stared at her for a moment too long. That was too much power to have for just one human. “Tell me what brought you here, and I’ll consider. Otherwise, fuck off.”
If she gave up on a spirit detective device and fucked off as he said, she’d make it out alive. And that’d be catastrophic for his case. And there was no certainty he wouldn’t sneak off a shot the moment her guards lowered. If she told him what brought her, his consideration had fifty percent chances to also be shooting her. There was no winning this.
Death wouldn’t find her either way. Ferry girls were hard to kill. She had nothing much to lose besides dignity. Unlike him. So why did it feel like it was her fate he was holding in his hands instead, and not the other way around? Right, because, for some reason, she was still stupidly trying to protect him. They matched each other in stubbornness at least; perhaps they could bond over that.
“I’d love to tell you,” She tried to relax on her oar, arms crossing over her chest in attempted confidence.
“Smart girl—”
“But,” she cut him off, surprised her voice didn’t shake for once, “If you fire that gun or anything else at me ever again,” Her eyes narrowed, “I’ll make sure you rot in the deepest pit, where any passing entity will make you their personal dartboard.”
For the first time, Hagiri’s eyes widened, just a fraction, but his surprise was gone as soon as it came. Yet, sick satisfaction flooded her in a jarring way.
It didn’t last, a smirk spread across his lips. His voice was thrilled.
“There she comes.”
Of course he’d think that was a challenge.