[FFML] [yyh][ry][xover] Youtou Shinnoken Chapter 26: Tactics (Part 1)

[Chester Castañeda]

"We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of
inspiration and survival."

(Winston Churchill)


========================================================================


Youtou Shinnoken
A Rurouni Kenshin/Yuyu Hakusho Crossover Fan Fiction
By Chester Castañeda
chester.castaneda at gmail.com
gabriel_gabdiel at yahoo.com
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/223441/
Original concept by Chad Yang
chadjill at ms3.hinet.net
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/56473/

Yes, I'm reusing an old chapter title that was left over from the last
rewrite. Recycling is good for the environment, I hear.


========================================================================

Chapter 26: Tactics (Part 1)

========================================================================


On July 5, 1989; late Wednesday evening; somewhere outside the roads of
Ueno District's Taito City, near the Asakusa District...

Daiji Matsudaira opened his eyes and looked down. He then opened his
mouth to rasp out a scream that never escaped his throat. His eyes
burned like they were bleeding. What the hell was going on?

On his midsection was a horizontal slice across his clavicle for the
number "one", two diagonal slashes over either side of his pectorals for
the number "eight", and a crucifix over his belly that nearly gutted him
for the number "ten". Together, they formed the logographic Chinese
character for "Hei", but that point didn't register in his mind at the
time.

His chest seared liquid fire. Like an old Nikkatsu-Roman-Era grindhouse
"pink film" (i.e., a Japanese softcore pornographic theatrical film)
with missing reels, his memories after he charged at the maniac who
stabbed his wife were blurry at best. He vaguely remembered a car
accident as well. However, the pain back then remained crystal clear to
him. It burned him inside out.

It rained, which did nothing to dull his agony, the proverbial sparks
and lightning zaps of his nerve endings making him plenty aware of his
soul's tenuous grasp of the mortal coil.

After gathering his wits, he espied four indistinct figures in the
distance: No matter how much he squinted, the only things he could make
out were silhouettes of a muscular man with long hair, a dwarfish man,
an overweight man, and a slender man with claws on both of his balled-up
fists.

Who were those people? What were they doing there with him? Were they
out to help him or harm him? Why did they look so familiar to him?

Daiji moved his head to the other direction and he saw another muscleman
bathed in blood, his body filled with cross-marked slashes, second-to-
third-degree burns, bruises, stab wounds, and so forth. He appeared as
though he had just clawed his way out of Hell itself. He had his back
turned, a thick, red "Hei" scar similar to the one on the officer's
chest etched across his deltoids, rhomboids, and latissimus dorsi.

"If you and the other blue meanies are going to get me, you better get
off your asses and do something," challenged the "Hei"-scarred man.

'B-Blue meanies...?' thought Matsudaira. 'What nonsense was he talking
about?'

>From that one statement, Daiji realized that today's incident was not an
accident. Not by a long shot, as evidenced by this supposed stranger's
knowledge of his job as a policeman. Other hindsight-based epiphanies
came flooding in, such as his wife's insistence that someone was
stalking her within their neighborhood and in the subway during her
commute weeks before this seemingly "random" crime occurred.

He would also realize four years later something else about that quote.
Something important. Something sinister.

He scrambled up to his feet, prepared to lay down his life in order to
keep his wife safe from this unkillable monster, when he noticed the
broken piece of metal he gripped on his hand, its sharp edge stabbing
his palm so deep that a hint of bone appeared on his injured hand's
wound. Where did this blade come from? He didn't have any weapons on
him when the fight started. What'd happened, exactly?

He took a look at the stranger's nodachi; its top part had in fact been
broken off. Did he do that? Was he the one responsible for the man's
cross-shaped wounds and cracked longsword? What happened to him and this
maniac earlier before he lost consciousness? Aside from basic self-
defense training, he never took up kendo or any weapon-based martial
art.

The man looked over his shoulder and at Daiji's fallen form as the fog
within the recently recruited copper's brain lifted, snapshots of their
momentous, improbable battle flashing before his eyes in barely a
second.

Daiji's whole body burned and throbbed not only from the pain of his
scars, but from the strain of the fight. In retrospect, perhaps he'd
somehow gone above and beyond his limits, even though he was already
physically fit to begin with as part of his training to become an
officer of the law.

All the same, he had a more important task to take care of.

His grip on the nodachi's broken tip loosened, the shattered weapon
clanging on the ground as he rushed towards his clammy-skinned wife who
was surrounded by a large pool of blood that reached all the way towards
their crumpled car's tires.

He shouted her name. He cried. He forgot all about the man who stabbed
his significant other and forced his car to crash. Only "It-chan"
mattered to him at the moment. He didn't know when his attacker left nor
did he care.

Itsumi's eyes fluttered open, her glasses long ago lost and forgotten,
her hair a disheveled mess, her skin as white as marble, her mouth
gasping for air as though she were a fish out of water.

He bit his lip, his heart breaking from looking at something so
beautiful and sad. "Everything is going to be all right," he lied while
smoothening out her hair.

He lifted her up, surprised at how light she'd become, his hands feeling
the moistness of her sweaty, creamy skin and the stickiness of her
blood. "I'm going to get you to a doctor. I'm going to save you both."
He was referring to her and their unborn child.

"You were amazing." Itsumi smiled, her lips as white as her skin, her
eyes looking straight at him yet seemingly staring at something else
entirely. "I don't deserve you."

Those were her last words. She was pronounced dead-on-arrival at the
Sensoji Hospital by the time she got there.


===


Two weeks after the assault at Genkai's temple... on March 17, 1993...

At the Shinjuku Police Station, Detective-Investigator Daiji Matsudaira
had just finished cracking the Quintuplet Murder Case, wherein three of
five Shimamura Quintuplets were accused of raping and murdering a fellow
student of the Shinjuku Yamabuki High School. He did so with the help of
two other Shinjuku Yamabuki High School students: His sister-in-law,
Likka Ikumi, and her best friend, Natsuki Shinkai.

The case was a curious one right from the start because in the
beginning, the serial murderer known as the Kanji Killer was the one
accused of the rape-slay of sixteen-year-old Miki Kishida.

However, Detective Matsudaira himself doubted that Kishida was another
Kanji Killer victim because of the "Hon" character instead of the "Hei"
or "One-Eight-Ten" character on her corpse. It was a common
misconception for amateur copycat killers to use the "Hon" character as
a way of framing the Kanji Killer for their deed.

Ultimately, Miki's sister, Katsumi, came out and accused one of the
quintuplets (whose names were hidden from newspapers and TV news
reports because of their status as minors) of victimizing her sibling.

The problem was that when the brothers released their statements in
regards to the case, they all pointed fingers at each other.

One quintuplet who confessed to the crime and had the most fingers
pointed at him became the prime suspect, but then came along the shady
character of Akio Oogata, an ex-boyfriend of Kishida who served as a
witness to the murder but was hinting at making a deal with the
brothers' rich parents in return for his silence.

A couple of days later, Oogata himself ended up dead, the kanji of
"Hon" carved on his corpse by either the true perpetrator of the crime
or the Kanji Killer himself, sticking his nose into the whole affair
while mocking his copycat.

However, Akio left an important hint: After taking one look at the
statements of the brothers, he noted that only three were telling the
truth.

By using logic, in-depth research, and the process of elimination, Daiji
was able to deduce who the murderer was and investigate what had
happened in a more exhaustive manner.

Afterwards, with the help of a surprise witness, he had Houjo, the
second oldest quintuplet and the third oldest Shimamura brother,
confess to his crimes.

He also had a bit of help from his snoopy sister-in-law and her
detective-wannabe friend in stalling the gathered families before he
released his bombshell, so everything worked out fine all-in-all.

...Save of course for the facts that Oogata's murderer was still at
large and the only reason that Detective Matsudaira took the case was
because it originally involved the Kanji Killer: Tokyo's very own
version of Northern California's infamous Zodiac Killer.


===


Three weeks after the assault at Genkai's temple, back in the totally
devastated Onden Shopping Street, right in front of the Onden Shrine...

After the fight between the forces of the Chojin and the forces of the
Spirit World... namely, Kenshin Himura, Botan, Kaoru Kamiya (somewhat),
Yahiko Myojin, and Sanosuke Sagara... the four (or five) people gathered
warily around the crater created by the Chojin's implosive end as miasma
billowed out of the void that sucked the creature of darkness and his
Demon World flames inside-out like a miniaturized version of a
collapsing star.

Meanwhile, Kenshin picked up the Youtou Shinnoken that he ejected out of
his sheath using his rarely deployed Hiryu Sen or Flying Dragon Flash.
To be sure, both Sanosuke and Yahiko had only witnessed him utilize the
technique once during the six months or so that they knew him... in
their past lives from a hundred years ago, to be exact.

"Is it over? Is the Chojin dead?" the robe-wearing Kaoru asked before
her strength gave out and her form reverted to that of Botan's, her legs
buckling from exhaustion after fighting against one of the Chojin's
minions and the Chojin himself.

In half an eye blink, Kenshin went behind Botan and caught her in the
middle of her fall.

Unfortunately... because of their mutual half-undressed state thanks to
the Chojin's clothes-ripping power and the fact that the spirit guardian
had no other place to grab the ferry-girl but on the chest...
embarrassment, indignation, and pain ensued.

While the red-faced shinigami wearing Sanosuke's jacket was busy choking
Kenshin (who was already tapping out) with her boat paddle, Yahiko
managed to interject, "Just who exactly are you, miss? I wasn't seeing
things when you turned into Kaoru just now... was I, Kenshin? Sano?"

"Nope. I saw it too. That was definitely Jo-chan," confirmed Sanosuke.
"Are you a reincarnation of Jo-chan?"

The reenergized Botan eventually let Kenshin go in order to let him
speak. Afterwards, she realized that the jacket emblazoned with the word
"Evil" on its back that she got from Sanosuke was made from Reikai's
Nalanda Shop in Yumekai.

Thusly, she used her reiatsu to transform it into the pink kimono she
usually wore before changing her mind and turning it into Sarayashiki's
standard-issue girl's school uniform that she sported during the time
when she, Kurama, Hiei, and Kuwabara went off to rescue a kidnapped
Yusuke many moons ago.

Yes, the clothes from the Nalanda Shop had the useful ability to
transform themselves depending on the aura and personality of their
wearer.

"Well, that's a long story, Yahiko. I'll tell you more about it when the
time comes," Kenshin said as he gave the boy a reassuring pat on the
shoulder. "Right now, we need to get out of here, catch up on old times,
and heal our broken bodies."

"Jeez, we're not talking to ten-year-old Yahiko-chan about the birds and
the bees here, Kenshin!" Sanosuke complained while Yahiko kicked him on
the rear for the "Yahiko-chan" crack.

Unfazed by Yahiko's butt-kicking, Sanosuke continued. "Besides, Yahiko
died as an old man, so despite appearances, he's actually a mature soul!
Anyway, tell us who that girl is right now! Is she Missy's reincarnation
or something? We got to know!"

Yahiko looked back and forth at Kenshin and Sanosuke, the two long-lost
friends locked in a speechless staring contest of sorts, before hitting
his open palm with a tightened fist and exclaiming, "Shinentai!"

"Gesundheit." Sanosuke did a double take. "I mean, pardon? 'Shinentai'?
What's that?"

Yahiko shook his head while making "Tsk," sounds with his mouth. "You
should read up more about ghosts and the facts of the afterlife, Sano.
A shinentai is a human that has passed away with strong, unresolved
feelings. That desire eventually turns into a shinentai or earthbound
spirit. I believe Botan here may have been possessed by Kaoru's
shinentai, which was how she managed to manifest herself using the
shingami's astral body as her medium of sorts."

Botan's ears wiggled upon hearing her name called, but then protested,
"While you do bring up an interesting theory, kid, don't you find it
strange that some random ghost from your past possessed a certified
Goddess of Death like me? Can spirits 'possess' other spirits, for that
matter?"

"Kaoru isn't a random ghost... but you're right," Yahiko admitted as he
shut his eyes in deep contemplation. "I've never heard of a shinigami
getting possessed by a shinentai before, although I've heard of certain
spirits possessing other, weaker spirits. Other than that, you might as
well be the reincarnation of Raccoon Dog Girl. I'm not sure."

"Well, if you're not sure, then stop trying to act like you are, you
insufferable half-pint!" Sanosuke declared before putting his fists over
Yahiko's ears and rubbing them raw with his knuckles.

Botan then spoke, her tone of voice changing to that of someone who was
intimately familiar with the three ghosts before her.

"It's so wonderful to see you all again. Sano. Yahiko. Kenshin. Oh, by
the way, Yahiko; I know someone you've just got to meet! Another old
friend of ours who was reincarnated in this present time! It's...!"

'She shifted personalities again,' Yahiko and Sano thought before they
heard someone cackle.

Kenshin motioned the rest of the reunited Kenshingumi... and Botan... to
keep quiet with a wave of his hand after booming laughter filled the
devastated part of the Onden Shrine that extended all the way back to
the streets of the Onden Shopping District.

"Oh great, the Chojin is still alive?" Sano grumbled as he let go of the
red-eared Yahiko and cracked his fists, his knuckles making sounds
reminiscent of chestnuts roasting over an open flame. "That Class-S
bitch hasn't learned his lesson, huh?"

At that point, Botan figured something out as she took control of her
body again. "By Enma's beard, that Chojin bastard used a shikigami just
like the Onmyouji did! The guy Kenshin turned into a smoldering crater
was nothing more than a summoned familiar!"

"What? Onmyouji?" Yahiko asked while gingerly patting his throbbing
ears.

"...N-Never mind. The point is that we weren't able to finish off the
true Chojin."

Botan waved Yahiko's questions off after remembering that the two
revived spirits hadn't met the Chojin's conduit and most faithful
servant yet.

'Come to think of it, Kaoru herself didn't recognize Houji either.
According to Tanuki-chan's memories, Sanosuke was with Kenshin when they
faced Shishio, so maybe Sano himself knows who this Onmyouji bastard
is.'

Afterwards, the transparent image of a bulky, scarred East Asian man
with lidless eyes, bleach-blond hair, a cactus-spine stubble over his
lantern jaw with an underbite, sneering chapped lips, and a sheathed
Japanese longsword he slung over his shoulder and hung behind his neck
appeared before Botan, Kenshin, and the revived souls of Battousai's
comrades from Meiji Era Japan.

"So _you're_ the Chojin? Some mobster-looking yakuza dressed in a monkey
suit? And here I thought you were some sort of undead youkai who's bent
on taking over the world. You've got to be kidding me," Sano said, his
eyebrow raised way up while his fist was cocked back and ready to swing.

"Sano, don't worry. He can't hurt us now, and we can't hurt him. That is
merely a phantom our enemy is using to communicate with us from a
distance," Kenshin reassured, remembering how the Onmyouji used the same
trick to reveal that he was Sadojima Houji.

"Ah, so you're the so-called 'army' that Koenma Daio gathered against
us. However, as per usual, even before all this happened, I've remained
ahead of the curve and preemptively cut your force down in half." The
newcomer chuckled, his words betraying a singsong accent that the others
identified as Chinese.

"You're not the Chojin at all, are you?" Kenshin declared, which
prompted varying gasps of surprise from all those gathered, including a
wide grin from the Overfiend imposter.

Meanwhile, from a distance, the faint whine of police sirens steadily
grew in volume as the minutes passed by. "And I'm fairly sure you aren't
Shishio Makoto's reincarnation either, despite your jaki flames. It's
funny how you were able to mimic two people at the same time with only
one shikigami."

The ghostly apparition let out another thunderous peal of bellowing
laughter. "Ah, but I never said I was the Chojin or Shishio." This made
the hairs on the back of the quartet's (arguably quintet's) necks stand
on end. The man that appeared to be a Chinese mafia boss had now
confirmed Shishio's involvement with the Chojin's faction and his
existence in modern times.

"Even though the shinigami is correct about my use of a shikigami in our
fight, you still impressed me with your show of strength. I didn't
realize you could combine the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki with the Hiryu
Sen. So how did you figure things out?" the hulking Chinese brute asked,
his Japanese nigh-impeccable save for his enunciation.

"It may have been a while, but I recognized the words you told me
earlier. In fact, I remember to whom exactly I told that message to. Do
you understand the message that I just sent you now?" Kenshin asked the
intangible image of his newest enemy.

Meanwhile, Yahiko put two and two together, an image of his past rival
appearing in his mind's eye as he mouthed, "The Hiryu Sen...! So that
Chinese guy is the reincarnation of...!"

"I've read your message loud and clear, Battousai. But did you also
understand mine?" the Chinese man queried as he put his marked, lantern-
jawed face mere inches away from Kenshin's, their sharp noses nearly
touching each other.

With that, Sanosuke charged and took a swing at the Chojin wannabe, but
as the redhead explained, the man was merely a specter, so the street
fighter's punch hit nothing but air.

The Chinese man's self-satisfied smile never left his seemingly
holographic likeness amidst the flying rubble and debris that passed
through him.

"You were barely able to survive the shikigami that I and the Onmyouji
created; mere shadows of our true might. The power of jaki is limitless;
as limitless as mankind's capacity to sin. You were even forced to use
your most powerful technique even though the body you destroyed was that
of my familiar. How well will you fare against the _real_ me? I wonder
if I'm good enough to draw out the Youkiri Battousai I've been hearing
about."

"Feh. You don't have the right to gloat, Blondie. We kicked your ass,
and it turned out that you were merely hiding behind a puppet all this
time. If you're as powerful as you claim to be, then try to fight us
for real. I'm sure you'll regret it," Sanosuke said after his Futae no
Kiwami attempt made contact with the devastated ground.

The attack created a another crater on top of the crater made by the
shikigami's explosive demise that forced Kenshin and the others to jump
back a couple of feet away.

"Sano, you idiot! Didn't you hear what Kenshin told you? You can't
touch him! What, do you want to kill us too?" Kaoru complained while
Botan moved their shared body away from the blast with her signature
boat paddle.

On the tip of the wooden oar hung Yahiko, his other hand aiming the so-
called Bronx salute (he learned it from American soldiers back in World
War II) at Sanosuke.

The Chojin imposter's astral projection remained unaffected by the
devastation, his feetless legs floating in midair. He then began to
ascend towards the sky like some sort of dark messiah rising from the
pits of hell itself.

Kenshin shook his head and sighed. "You've learned nothing at all. I
asked you to become a real swordsman and appreciate the value of life,
death, and suffering. Instead, it looks like you've become nothing more
than a parasite to others; a vampire who feeds off the blood of the
innocent," he rebuked, remembering what happened to Yusuke Urameshi's
girlfriend, Keiko Yukimura.

The nodachi-wielding man was just another Seiryu; a bully and abuser who
couldn't survive without manipulating other people to do his bidding.

"It's nice to see you acting like a holier-than-thou hypocrite,
reprimanding me for using my victims as my strength even though you
yourself honed your assassination skills by the art of murder as well.
This is the nature of my killing sword. Taking advantage of the
suffering of others is just one of many methods to achieve full power;
things such as strife, discord, fear, and anger can be projected unto
this alternative life force to make it become even more potent than
before. It's certainly unlike reiki, which is harder to cultivate
because it can only be produced by the purest essence of an untainted
soul. To be true, suffering is a more abundant commodity than
happiness."

"Despite your denials, you didn't only impersonate the Chojin by
flaunting your Class-S might and Shishio by imitating his flame-based
techniques; you've also stolen their beliefs... the Law of Nature and
Survival of the Fittest... and repackaged them to suit your own
inadequacies."

The invisible force of Kenshin's sword-ki emanated from his body in
waves, to the point that the Chojin impersonator's specter warped and
distorted from the show of strength. "You've corrupted my advice and
turned it into something rotten and evil. What are you fighting for,
Rai...?"

"Please, Battousai. Call me by my name now. A name I've picked myself:
Xinhai Feng."

Both Kaoru and Botan gasped as one as they remembered the name... not
only did it confirm the death goddess's accusation that the man before
them warped Burashi's values to the point of turning him into a serial
killer, the name also harkened back to a mission that she, Kenshin, and
Kurama had to fulfill a week ago. 'Oh my gods, he's the Xinhai Feng that
the Kanji Killer was talking about last week! He's Natsuki-chan's...!'

Kenshin also had an epiphany. "Even if it was only a shikigami, you were
able to give it power equivalent to that of a Class-S warrior, yet from
the looks of things, you aren't serving as a conduit to the Chojin's
might. You're instead doing the same thing Seiryu did to one of our
allies three weeks back. Are you using Shinkai Natsuki-dono the same way
Seiryu used Yukimura Keiko-dono in order to gain the power you have?"

The grinning glare Xinhai gave Kenshin was that of a man possessed. "You
were able to figure all that out with only a mere mention of my name?
Your skill is surpassed only by the power of your intellect. The bonds
between a victim and victimizer can be as deep as those of lovers or a
master and a slave. However, my relationship with Xiaji is only part of
my secret to success. I look forward to dueling you for real in the
near future, Battousai."

'Xiaji...?' thought Kenshin.

Xinhai's floating astral projection commenced fading into the ether.
However, before he disappeared altogether, he gave the Kenshingumi these
parting words:

"Jaki is jaki. Reiki is reiki. Do you honestly think that Koenma Daio
can resurrect souls who are long dead without a price? Even jaki
requires quite a bit of sacrifice in order to work. He has brought back
and awakened all your allies from the past, Battousai... but at what
cost?"

>From there, Feng Xinhai's astral body vanished into thin air, leaving
the four (or five) people still present within the confines of what was
left of Shinjuku's Onden Street.

"Youkiri Battousai, huh?" Sanosuke asked Kenshin. "And here I thought
you were already a handful as the _Hitokiri_ Battousai. Is that what
you've been doing all these decades? Slaying demons?"

"It's... another long story. To be quite frank, I don't know all the
details behind this Youkiri Battousai business either. I'm suffering
from a bit of memory loss after being cooped up in the Legendary Shrine
of the Sword for Enma-knows-how-long," Kenshin admitted with a helpless
smile.

"_Anyway_, that smug Chinese asshole is full of shit. He acts like some
sort of know-it-all super villain, but when it all comes down to it,
he's just another run-of-the-mill lackey working for real big boss of
this terrorist organization, the Chojin."

As Sanosuke dusted himself off, both Yahiko and the Kaoru-possessed
Botan ganged up on him with their respective blunt objects for
needlessly adding to their injuries earlier when he tried to punch what
was essentially a ghost.

"YOU BIRD-BRAINED MORON! Watch where you're aiming that thing!"

"...That's what she said?"

"ARGH! DIE!"

"Ow! OW! You bastards! It was an honest mistake! And I can't believe you
of all people would do this to me, Jo-chan! I... I was the one who
_clothed_ you! And I even saved your life, you snot-nosed, porcupine-
haired brat!"

"Yeah, and as a token of my appreciation, I'm hammering you down with a
_sheathed_ sword."

"YOU'RE WIELDING A SAKABATOU, YOU BASTARD! It makes no difference
whether it's sheathed or not, it's still blunt, dammit! OW!"

Wisely, the battle-worn Kenshin sneaked past the trio in order to not
somehow become part of the dog pile of violence. Nevertheless, when he
looked over his shoulder and watched the antics of his old friends, he
couldn't help but grin. 'I missed this.'

The red-haired spirit guardian beckoned the Kaoru-possessed Botan and
confessed, "Xinhai barely used his true technique or potential while I
battled his familiar, so he kept me guessing while we battled. In fact,
his sword style had a bit of Nikaido Heiho in it."

"Nikaido Heiho! So Natsuki-chan was right! There are two Kanji Killers
on the loose!" Kaoru exclaimed while hitting a no-look smack over Sano's
head with Botan's paddle.

As the two resurrected spirits exclaimed, "Kanji Killer? What the hell?"
Kenshin nodded. "Just like the demon Rando, Xinhai loves mimicking
techniques. Other than Shishio and Jine, he probably mimicked the
Onmyouji too when he produced that fiery familiar to finish us off. It
all makes sense."

Just then, Botan's communicator to the afterlife went off like an alarm
for a nuclear reactor meltdown within the pockets of her reconstituted
clothes, which allowed her to quell Kaoru's mutiny within her own body
and cease punishing the empty-headed, broom-haired man.

She fumbled through the school uniform she "made" out of Sano's coat
that was several sizes too small for her before finding her portable
communications device and answering it.

"Hello? Jorge? Why are _you_ calling me instead of Koenma-sama? Where is
he? Does he want updates on the situation?" Botan inquired with a toss
of her frazzled hair after seeing Jorge Saotome's horrible blue visage
fill her mobile video telephone as she made a mental note to get herself
a spare kimono once she got back to Reikai.

"No, nothing like that. Miss Botan, we have a dire emergency! Koenma-
sama has collapsed from sheer exhaustion and is now bedridden. You need
to come back here in the Spirit World as soon as possible!"

After Botan backhanded Sanosuke for asking, "Gods get sick? Do they have
hospitals back in the Spirit World?" a newer, more feminine voice
greeted her through her communicator.

"Botan-san! We're all in a panic here! This is the first time we've ever
seen Koenma-sama get sick in centuries! You've got to help us!" came the
frenetic Hinagashi's high-pitched plea as she interposed herself into
the conversation, which led to her pushing a red-faced Jorge back while
they crammed themselves cheek-to-cheek within her communicator's
viewscreen.

"We'll be right there. Thanks for the info. Bye-bye." Botan turned off
her communicator and exhaled. "Kenshin. Sano. Yahiko. We have to go
back to Reikai."

The quartet would later understand the meaning behind Xinhai's warning:
Everything had a price, and to obtain anything, something else that was
equal in value must be exchanged or sacrificed for it.

'Koenma-sama, please be all right!'


===


Back in March 17, 1993; two weeks after the attack at Genkai's temple,
around evening, within the confines of the Shinjuku Police Station's
interrogation room...

"Hello, Houjo-kun," Detective Matsudaira called out after bowing to the
latest perp he landed behind bars... or, in his case, behind juvenile
probation or whatever constituted as punishment for delinquents in Japan
because the kid was just a minor... Houjo Shimamura. "I was afraid I'd
missed you before you got out."

"What the hell do you want? Are you here to rub it in?" Houjo crossed
his legs and put a hand over his waist, his back slouched against his
steel chair's backrest. "The fuck with this. I want my lawyer. I'm not
talking about anything unless he's here. I know my rights."

"I'm here to make a deal with you, and believe me, you're in no position
to refuse," said Daiji, his piercing blue eyes boring holes all over the
sweaty and befuddled teenager's person.

"You betrayed your family, especially your brothers. I highly doubt any
of them are interested in saving you from serving out your sentence at
all, Family Law or no. If you want to have a semblance of a future,
you'll listen to what I have to say."

Houjo paused for a couple of seconds before letting out a single guffaw
and concluding, "You're bluffing, and I have nothing more to give or
lose. You caught me red-handed, Detective. Congratulations. I killed
some slut and I wasn't able to get away with it."

"You're right. You have nothing more to lose and everything to gain at
this point. Helping me out will take the least amount of effort on your
part. Someone as privileged as you should be quite familiar with such a
situation, right?" Daiji intoned while gathering the papers within his
folder relating directly to the Quintuplet Murder Case.

"I want the whole rape-slay case to be dropped. I don't mind paying off
Mikan's sister or whoever with my share of the family fortune for the
rest of her life to buy her silence, but I want to forget that this
whole thing ever happened," Houjo demanded with a sneer, but then he
slumped back to his chair with one withering look from Daiji's iron
gaze.

"You're not in the position to make demands, Houjo-kun. What I'm
offering you is a chance to move on from your mistakes by lessening your
sentence. I'm not here to give you a free pass." Daiji's mouth quirked
slightly as he towered over the fourteen-year-old boy, which served as
his own version of a scowl. "It seems that until now, you haven't
learned your lesson. A pity."

"T-That's hardly the tone of voice I'd expect from someone who's asking
_something_ from me instead of the other way around," Houjo stuttered
as his voice cracked, but he otherwise remained receptive to the
detective's proposition, his hand over his face, his thumb resting on
his chin, and his index finger scratching his cheek. "You could at least
say please."

Instead of humoring Houjo and his passive-aggressive shenanigans, Daiji
went straight to the point. "While I was investigating your planned...
'activities' concerning Kishida-shi and a Kanji Killer frame-up, plus
the unusual circumstances behind Oogata-shi's death, I discovered
something curious. You were visiting Kabukicho quite often, seemingly at
the advice of one of your father's underworld connections. Tell me, what
do you know about Chikyusei?"

Houjo's complexion changed then and there, like a chameleon would when
camouflaging itself during autumn. "I don't know what you're talking
about. Didn't you and your fellow Blue Meanies already figure out that
the Kanji Killer thing was a ruse and I was behind the entire thing?"

Houjo shrunk back down to his chair as the narrow-eyed six-footer said,
"Huh. 'Blue Meanie' is hardly a word I'd expect a fourteen-year-old
Japanese boy who was born barely two decades ago would know about.
Where'd you first hear it?"

Houjo stared to the side, on the floor, conscious of the glare of the
lamp and the detective before him. "I-I just heard it from my father.
He's an old man. I overheard him saying it."

"Oh? Is he a Beatles fan?"

Houjo's face stretched to horse-like proportions as if Daiji were
propositioning him for a one-night stand. "What? Beatles? No. Is that
the foreign band? What does that have to do with anything?"

"The Blue Meanies were the villains of the 1968 Beatles film, 'The
Yellow Submarine'. People who were alive during that era should know
about that. Under normal circumstances, neither of us would know about
them because they're pop culture references before our time, and western
ones at that."

Daiji asked, "Do you want to know how I know who the Blue Meanies are?"
Houjo gulped as the detective remained an inch beyond their respective
personal boundaries.

"The Kanji Killer himself told me that. Upon further research, I found
out it was a quote from his idol, San Francisco's Zodiac Killer, whose
killing spree started around the time after the Beatles' 'The Yellow
Submarine' was released."

Houjo went silent. He wanted to mention that he'd been hanging out at a
nearby records store selling old, foreign products and whatnot, but his
story was already full of holes.

"Big deal. So I used a term that was once used by the Kanji Killer,
who's probably some old fart who listens to old foreign hits. So what?
Does that necessarily mean I'm in league with the Kanji Killer?"

"I was asking you earlier about the Earth Club, and you replied that the
Kanji Killer had nothing to do with the killings. That seems rather
odd," Daiji noted. "Are you implying that the Earth Club has something
to do with the Kanji Killer, then?"

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" Houjo screamed as a sleek layer of moisture
covered his body from head to toe. "I already confessed that I got Mikan
pregnant, I killed her over it, and I framed the Kanji Killer and my own
brother to get away with murder! Isn't that enough?"

"I'm well aware that you're a smart boy. However, your whole plan reeked
of the Kanji Killer's modus operandi. Copycat killings to hide copycat
killers. You didn't plan it alone. If it wasn't for those two witnesses,
one of whom was killed by another Kanji Killer, the case would've been
waved off as part of the wave of copycat killings we've been
experiencing since the Kanji Killer first arrived in the scene. Now tell
me what you know about the Chikyusei."

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT! I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"
The last few screams prompted the nearest officer on duty, Officer
Shigetaka Uye, to unlock the interrogation room and tackle the frothing
Houjo down in order to keep him from leaping up and strangling the
taller and older twenty-something policeman.

"It's times like this that I wish Japan had juvenile detention laws,"
remarked Officer Uye. "Did you get what you want out of this kid,
Detective Matsudaira? Did he give you any leads on the Kanji Killer?"

Daiji was just about to shake his head when he felt something inside his
coat pocket that wasn't there earlier. "Maybe. Maybe he did. If you'll
excuse me, Officer Uye..." He bowed and made his leave then and there.

Outside the police station (during the time when, unbeknownst to him,
Natsuki Shinkai underwent a life-or-death struggle against the _real_
Kanji Killer), Daiji took hold of the contents of his pocket that Houjo
probably slipped into his coat when he lunged after him: A plastic
business card with an address and the zodiac symbol for earth... the
same target-like sign that the Zodiac Killer used as a signature... on
it.


===


Three weeks after the assault at Genkai's temple, within the heart of
Nishi-Shinjuku or the Shinjuku Skyscraper Business District (one of
the few places in Japan where it was allowed to build high-rise
buildings because of the country's penchant for earthquakes) at the
forty-fourth floor (designated as M or the Mechanical Floor that was
accessible only by the Freight Elevator, but actually hid one of the
headquarters of the Triad's Shinjuku Branch) of the Shinjuku Hisashi
Building...

The sweaty yet keyed-up Feng Xinhai sat back down his leather office
chair, his head throbbing something fierce as he brushed his bristled,
bleach-blond hair back and produced a fine mist of his own moisture.

"I never thought deploying a shikigami against the Battousai and his
friends can take a lot out of me. Even after I've gained a level of
power equal to that of Makai's conqueror-class demons, that waifish
redhead remains as troublesome as when I first met him."

"They're an interesting bunch, aren't they, Xinhai?" came the harsh,
"gas leak" hiss of Houji Sadojima's spiritual holographic projection.

The Onmyouji, otherwise known to the Chojin's growing rebellion against
Reikai, Makai, and Ningenkai as Houji of the Hundred Sense, further
probed, "Were you able to gauge the true strength of Battousai with your
defeat? Or did you come out empty handed?"

Xinhai smirked. "We _both_ didn't show him our true power, so he didn't
show his either. Although his vagabond self was able to equal and
surpass the power of his hitokiri self by learning the Hiten Mitsurugi
Ryu's succession technique, the Youkiri Battousai has power even beyond
that. The demon-slayer proved himself so dangerous that Koenma Daio was
forced to use the Mafuu Kan to seal him and the Youtou Shinnoken away
around the time Japan suffered the devastating might of the Atomic
Bomb."

Houji's apparition turned his nose and harrumphed. "And where did you
steal that information from? From one of my fellow Dai Shin Kan
cohorts?" To himself, he muttered, "I knew that bitch would blab."

The hood of the Onmyouji's cloak fell down as his gestures became wider,
revealing his strange, perfectly solid bowl cut, a dark gray suit, and a
yellow silk tie reminiscent of his formal wear coat-and-tie ensemble a
century back. "Was it from Lord Tenro himself? Or was it merely hearsay
and rumors you've heard through the grapevine among your fellow Shin Ju
members?"

Feng chuckled. "My apologies. It must've hurt your feelings to see me
know so much about the Battousai, especially considering that spiel you
kept reciting to our enemies where you extol the virtues of your long-
dead former master, Shishio Makoto. Let's just say I have my sources,
and I've been doing my own research too."

"In other words, you failed your mission to finish off two of Reikai's
first recruits in the fight against the Chojin because even you, a
greenhorn S-Class, is no match against Himura Battousai." Houji half-
wheezed and half-cackled, remembering the Overfiend's high praise of
this mere Triad hooligan.

"I hope this serves as a humbling experience for you, Xinhai. Just
because you learned enough about jaki to level up into an S-Class human
doesn't mean that you can act all high and mighty. There are people who
are more powerful than you. You're nothing but a big fish in a small
pond. Don't be so full of yourself, you ingrate!"

To the Onmyouji's chagrin, the bulky illegal immigrant and mafia
leader's toothy grin widened to the point of taking over half of his
face. "Please. Don't tell me you bought that simplified, children's show
malarkey I told Battousai and the others regarding jaki and how to
cultivate it, right? It isn't nearly that simple."

The wards that the Onmyouji placed on Xinhai's body to keep his Class-S
power in check and out of the Spirit World's radar crackled with
inverted black-and-blue flames that distorted the air around them.

"Rest easy. I have no intention of taking your place at the Chojin's
side like the pathetic sycophant that you are. My position in the Triad
and the Shin Ju are all mere stepping stones to bigger and greater
things. Unlike you, I have ambition. In the past, I acted out different
roles. My shikigami even acted as the Chojin a while ago, and Battousai
and his friends fell for it hook, line, and sinker! What I am now are
the clothes I'm wearing for the time being. I can change whenever I
want. I am everyone and no one at the same time."

"Such insolence! Learn to respect your betters, Xinhai! Don't forget
that you were the lowest of the low in the Chojin's army when you first
started out. Your position in the Shinjuku Triad Society matters not to
us." Houji the Onmyouji's astral body glowed purple, his wards
constricting around the impassive Xinhai while three grim-reaper-like
shikigami materialized out of thin air.

"You're a mere human thug who became part of our operation because in
your past life, you once fought Battousai and lived to tell the tale.
Even though you're part of the Shin Ju, you should know your place, you
common criminal! A pawn has no right to delude itself into thinking
he's a king!"

Just as the first shikigami transformed his corpse-white arm into a
decapitating scythe aimed right at Xinhai's neck, the Chinese mafia boss
pulsed with negative energy that fried the familiar to an instant crisp;
ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

"I was able to do what Gein and his Unit 731 couldn't accomplish...
harness the full power of jaki and make it grow instead of depending on
the Chojin as our only resource for negative energy," said Feng as he
strolled over Houji and his two remaining minions.

"Drugs, DNA manipulation, human experimentation, psychological warfare,
zombiefication, and demonification weren't the answers. I alone knew
what had to be done. The Chojin now needs me as much as I need him,
maybe even more so."

Feng's face was so close to Houji's astral projection, all the Onmyouji
saw were crooked fangs and broken, yellowed teeth.

"As the Chojin's liaisons officer, you of all people should know what I
had to go through in order to become what I am now. Breaking apart the
human spirit and feeding on its remains is a specialty of mine. Don't
think for a second that just because you have supernatural powers, I
won't be able to unleash the same horrors upon you."

Out of the blue, Xinhai's speakerphone blared in Chinese, "489! 489! My
pardons, but all our guards at the ground level are down! Even 426 is
dead! There's a man with a Japanese longsword like yours headed your
way! We've killed the power to the elevators, but he took the stairs and
took out the rest of our men! Our bullets can't even touch him, and he
unsheathes his longsword with lightning quick reflexes! It's insane!"

The number 489 actually referred to Feng Xinhai's rank as Leader of the
Triad's Shinjuku Branch, which was also known as the "Mountain Master"
or "Dragon Head". Feng took his face out of Houji's personal space,
scowled, and answered in his native tongue, "Who am I speaking to? What
happened to my secretary? Or 415? 432? 438?"

The 415 referred to "White Paper Fan" Administrators, the 432 referred
to the "Straw Sandal" Liaisons Officer, and the 438 referred to the
"Vanguard" Operations Officer, "Incense Master" Ceremonies Officer, or
"Deputy Mountain Master" Deputy.

The man on the speakerphone hesitated before stating, "I'm a 49er, but
I'm the only one who's left. Everyone else is dead or has fled." By
49er, the man referred to his rank as an ordinary Triad member.

Xinhai moved his tongue inside his mouth. "Answer me this. If you're the
only one in our gang that's left and even my secretary is dead, then how
did you survive all the way here? You'd have to be at my secretary's
desk in order to connect to this speakerphone."

A new voice responded in Japanese, "I made a deal with your little foot
soldier to spare his life in exchange for serving as my guide to your
office. I was surprised that your secretary also functioned as your
bodyguard. He sure can fight with those twin daggers."

>From there, a bloodcurdling scream and gunshots echoed in the background
before a squelching sound and two dull thuds were heard. Feng harrumphed
and went to an altar at the left side of his spacious office that housed
his favored weapon.

Houji signaled his summoned shikigami to dissipate, chortling as he
himself declared, "Karma is a bitch, Xinhai Feng. Enjoy heaven's
retribution," before winking out of existence.

Xinhai barked in hyena-like laughter as he slung his lengthy weapon over
his shoulder. "...Implying that I didn't plan for _this_ to happen
anyway, you Chojin-fawning toady."

The double doors leading straight to the Chinese Triad boss's room
collapsed into what seemed like geometric puzzle pieces before Xinhai
could even blink.

Outside the doorway, bathed in blood that turned his light blue uniform
dark purple, stood the reed-thin yet steadfast figure of a six-foot-two,
twenty-something police detective wearing a heavy trench coat, his right
hand sheathing his nodachi with a firm click.

"We meet again, One-Eight-Ten Killer. Or should I say, Triad Dragon Head
Xinhai Feng," the man greeted with a bow that made Xinhai snort and
shake his head. "You may not remember me, but I'm Detective Matsudaira
Daiji. I'm here to take your life."

"Welcome back, Detective Matsudaira. It's nice to see you again after so
long. Or would you rather I called you Matsudaira-san? How about
Matsudaira-kun? I never bothered learning Japanese honorifics. They
confuse me."

As Xinhai spoke, he drew out the entire length of his curved longsword
at the newcomer, producing a multitude of vacuum slashes reminiscent of
the ones that nearly cut Yahiko into pieces earlier on.

Like an acrobat, the nimble, blood-soaked detective dodged and
sidestepped each and every last crescent slash that turned Feng's office
and all the neighboring rooms into bits of polygonal wood, concrete,
plaster, metal, and other types of building material debris.

He underestimated the ferocity of the slashes though, so his coat ended
up getting ripped into ribbons, which forced him to take it off.

Xinhai did a low whistle. "Impressive. I'm glad you took my advice,
sprung out of your cocoon, and metamorphosed into someone special, like
I did. I guess my 'sink or swim' method of awakening you was far more
effective than I expected. It's too bad that you're still wrapped around
in bits of 'silk' from your burst cocoon, though," the Chinese man
mocked, referring to the bandages and bomb wounds that remained on his
enemy's person.

True to Feng's implied knowledge of his current condition, Detective
Matsudaira stumbled a bit after landing from a jump, which allowed the
mafia boss to barrel over like a freight train and take a second swing
at the policeman. Fortunately, Daiji's body acted on its own accord by
counterattacking with a roundhouse kick to the Chinese man's face.

Xinhai stopped on his tracks, but otherwise wasn't moved an inch from
where he halted. The detective jumped back and waited, the gears in his
head turning and grinding overtime for his next couple of moves.

"So which of Battousai's friends or foes are you, I wonder? How much of
your past life's memories have returned to you? Judging by your weaponry
and that kick, I have a good idea who you are." Xinhai licked his upper
lip and wiped his bleeding nose.

"I can't believe my luck! I've victimized so many people that I actually
managed to ensnare not one, but two warriors from Meiji Era Japan before
either of you were awakened by Koenma Daio! Your suffering is the reason
why I've become so strong. Your obsession with me has enabled me to
compete against actual demons in terms of power. Feed me more of your
tears!"

Daiji winced and gnashed his teeth as his chest throbbed with a blazing
heat that burned right through his bones. Nevertheless, his righteous
indignation remained even hotter than that.

"It-chan," he murmured, his torso aflame as he grabbed hold of his
sword's handle and charged towards the Triad leader and his nodachi that
sliced apart anything it touched.


===


The date was July 5, 1989; around the roads of Ueno District's Taito
City, near the Asakusa District...

Detective Matsudaira... at the time, Officer Matsudaira... remembered it
as though it were yesterday. Or perhaps as though it were mere hours
ago, even. His twenty-year-old self was driving along with his beautiful
wife of one year, the bespectacled nineteen-year-old Itsumi Matsudaira
(nee Ikumi), inside a three-year-old Honda CR-X after a dinner date a
couple of hours ago.

He had picked her up around seven after work as a rookie police officer
in training. Had certain events not transpired that day, he would've
still remembered that night regardless for several reasons, the most
prominent of which was...

"I think I'm pregnant with your child, Jiji-chan," his wife informed as
an icebreaker of sorts.

"I'm happy to hear that," was Daiji's monotone... albeit honest...
response while estimating the distance between nearby cars and planning
the best route to avoid getting stuck in a traffic jam on a Wednesday
night.

"You're really beside yourself with joy, aren't you?" came Itsumi's
droll observation. "You're almost like a burst party favor, Jiji-chan."

"Please don't call me 'Jiji-chan'," said Daiji before bringing up, "So
you're pregnant. That's wonderful."

"U-huh. That's what happens when a girl and a boy _really_ love each
other..." trailed off Itsumi, her tongue literally in her cheek to clue
her husband in about how serious her statement was.

"Not necessarily. Love doesn't have anything to do with sex, as proven
by the present divorce rate, latchkey children, single mothers, deadbeat
fathers, and overpopulation problems," came Daiji's logical yet beside-
the-point remark.

"Wow. You really went there, huh? That's nice." Itsumi bit her lip and
blew the stray strand of dark brown hair in front of her face. "While
that's fascinating and all, I don't like where this conversation is
going, honey."

"Oh. Okay." Daiji drummed his fingers over his steering wheel as he
abandoned thinking up a better route to their destination home in order
to fix whatever it was that was irritating his significant other. "So
you're pregnant. How did you know? Did you take a pregnancy test?"

Itsumi pouted as her eyes rolled up her head, which from the corner of
Daiji's eyes looked like the body language for derision. However, the
light tone of her voice and her deep dimples indicated to him that she
was merely contemplating his inquiry. Another crisis was averted.

"Well, no. Not yet. I'm planning to take one this week. But I do have
all the symptoms. Nausea. Morning sickness. Spotting. Cramps. Backaches.
I do get tired a lot easier nowadays. My breasts are swollen too." She
tilted her head over Daiji and blinked repeatedly. "What do you think?
Are you excited in becoming a father?"

"Yes, Mistress," Daiji answered as he rifled through his memories for
the appropriate response. So he smiled. It faded to his usual neutral
expression after he felt his partner recoil from him and look away, her
eyes staring straight at the road.

"I really am excited. As soon as you can confirm it, I'll be even more
excited."

"Gee, I wonder what _that_ would look like," she said as she put her
elbow on the car door beside her and placed her hand under her chin.

What did he do to upset her this time?

After a couple of minutes of silence, she breathed in deeply, slapped
her cheeks several times as though she were trying to wake herself up,
and planted a wet kiss over Daiji's cheek.

"I guess this is as good as it gets, huh?" she surmised, and up until
the present time, Daiji still couldn't understand what she meant by
that.

"I hope I'm pregnant for real. I'm kind of scared about how good a
mother I'll be. I'm terrified of natural childbirth. But you're here, so
I know everything will be all right."

"Of course," said the pokerfaced Daiji as his mouth quirked into a smile
without him forcing it to do so. Afterwards, everything became a blur.

A brown, second generation Mitsubishi Lancer blindsided the couple's
Honda, causing it to spin out of control before smashing bumper-first
into a nearby concrete utility pole.

Too many things happened at once. There was blood everywhere. The
shatterproof glass did its job in keeping its shards in one place, the
millions of spider web cracks turning the windshield dense and white.
Daiji's back throbbed, and a splitting headache kept him from seeing
straight. Blood was splashed everywhere. Itsumi was crying.

"Oh my god, oh my god, the baby! The baby! The baby! Our baby! What the
hell hit us? That asshole! Honey, are you okay? Can you move?"

"Relax. We're going to get help. Everything's going to be all right.
Remember, I'm here, It-chan. Like you said, I'm here for you. Relax,
dear. Can you open the door?"

"Okay, okay. I'm fine. Are you all right? Do you have a concussion? I-I
think I can go out. How can this happen? Please, please, please, let
the baby be safe. Let all of us be safe."

The silhouette of a man with a fishing pole or curved broomstick on his
side appeared with a flashlight or bright lamp; they couldn't tell
which.

"Hello? Please help us! Did you see the car that ran us over?" Itsumi
asked the stranger, not at all considering whether or not he was the one
that hit them and sent their car spiraling out of control in the first
place.

Before Itsumi could open the door all the way, a shaft of metal pierced
through it, impaling her. It took a minute for even a quick study like
Daiji to comprehend what had happened.

Daiji's pain receded as his brain went into overdrive in order to
understand what it just witnessed. The long piece of metal retracted,
and a fountain of blood exited the womb of his quickly paling wife.

"IT-CHAN!"

For the first time in a long while, he screamed, the emotions bubbling
inside him... the feelings he wanted to convey to Itsumi but couldn't
because of who he was... was let loose a little too late.

Sensations he could barely grasp or control and his wife's words
repeating inside his head over and over pushed him to action despite the
questionable state of his battered body.

"I think I'm pregnant with your child, Jiji-chan."

"But you're here, so I know everything will be all right."

"Please let the baby be safe. Let us all be safe."


===


For over five years since his killing spree made the news, the Kanji
Killer completely eluded the police's grasp despite the fact that over
seven of his confirmed victims were well-publicized by the media. There
were even several suspected victims that date his killings all the way
back to 1983 and all the way up to 1990.

It was only natural that comparisons between him and London's Jack the
Ripper or North California's Zodiac Killer would surface. With Jack,
the clinical grisliness of both murderers' actions remained at the
forefront of discussion. With the Zodiac, the seeming infatuation that
the Kanji Killer had for his predecessor's continuous mocking of the
"Blue Meanies" or the police was an obvious point of resemblance.

However, the truly disturbing thing about the tattooed muscleman with a
longsword and glowing scars... or, as some witnesses alleged, the living
corpse with the complexion of ash, a pair of swords, and the smile of a
dead horse... was the sheer amount of victims attributed to them after
1990 that left the police befuddled, troubled, and confused.

Thanks in part to the sensationalized nature of the Kanji Killer's
murders as reported by the Japanese media... and he was a much more
marketable psycho when compared to 1988's pedophilic Tsutomu "Otaku
Murderer" Miyazaki... and the continued failure of the police to capture
him, a wave of copycat crimes swept the country by storm.

Daiji suspected that the true Kanji Killer was able to kill in peace at
the time after knowing that his murders served as trees that he could
hide within the forest full of corpses that his admirers made in honor
of him; his own Aokigahara, so to speak.

However, the fact that two people with the exact opposite descriptions
utilized the exact same modus operandi when "randomly" attacking people
disturbed the detective somewhat.

The inconsistencies between the two serial killers were as clear as day
to Daiji, but many of his superiors waved the discrepancies off as a
product of the Kanji Killer's insanity.

After insisting on being transferred from Ueno to Shinjuku back in 1991,
Daiji followed that lead of his, which ultimately led him to separate
one Kanji Killer from another. To be more specific, judging by the
reports that cited a zombie-like Kanji Killer, that murderer was more of
a thrill-seeker than the average criminal who preyed upon the weak for
sport.

The thin man Kanji Killer with a ski mask of sorts that covered his ears
and his neck, according to reports, could freeze his victims with one
stare of his inky-black eyes, used two swords to slice them up like a
machine, and, most importantly, he tended to attack cops, security
guards, military personnel, and local tough guys to feed his bloodlust.

He was different from the Kanji Killer that Daiji met that fateful
summer evening of 1989. The tall, over-muscled Kanji Killer was more in
the mold of serial killers like Ted Bundy or, more appropriately,
another copycat killer and admirer of the Zodiac Killer's handiwork, the
so-called Copycat Zodiac Killer, also known as the Brooklyn Sniper and
the New York Zodiac Killer who remained at large at the time.

The Kanji Killer that Daiji and Itsumi met was a sadist who pleasured or
even empowered himself by inflicting pain on others and taking control
of his victims like puppets; the man whom Daiji referred to as the "One-
Eight-Ten Killer".

He also had no idea which of the two Kanji Killers came first, which was
a real chicken-or-egg dilemma.

One other key difference between the Kanji Killer and the One-Eight-Ten
Killer? The Kanji Killer rarely if ever killed women, and the women he
killed were mostly collateral damage or potential witnesses he finished
off for his own safety. In contrast, the One-Eight-Ten Killer made it a
point to include women in his killings in either perverse delight or a
strange desire to be an equal-opportunity murderer.


===


To Be Continued...

Next: Daiji's deduction.

If you haven't figured it out yet, let me spell it out for you.
The "Chikyusei" or "Earth Club" is based on the Meiousei or Pluto
Organization of the anime "Detective School Q". Even their shared
modus operandi wherein they were represented by the zodiac sign of
the planet they're named after as well as their quest to help
their rich clients concoct diabolical and needlessly complex plans
in order to get away with murder was intentionally similar.

Disclaimer: Yuyu Hakusho is the rightful property of Yoshihiro
Togashi, Shueisha, Fuji TV, and St. Pierrot. Rurouni Kenshin is
the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump,
Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallop, Studio Deen, and ADV.
This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material
that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm
very poor.

Hindi ako papayag na maghari ang kasamaan sa daigdig!
Abdiel