Reverse Interrogation

[madimpossibledreamer]

Cast of Characters (in order of appearance/mention, written the Japanese way of surname first): Maki Akiharu (Giles), Advisor to the Fourth and Fifth Chairwomen of the Amaya-kai
Amaya-kai, the yakuza|gokudou Clan they're all in
Natsukawa Kimiko (Joyce), Fourth Chairwoman of the Amaya-kai, deceased (and moved on)
Natsukawa Renyo (Buffy), Fifth Chairwoman of the Amaya-kai
Osato-kai, also known as the Oni Alliance due to their dealings with oni, rivals to the Amaya-kai, Natsukawa-sama
Kuroba Raimu (Faith), Seventh Chairwoman of the Osato-kai
Natsukawa Akeru (Dawn), Matriarch of the Natsukawa-gumi, a Direct Family of the Amaya-kai, younger Natsukawa
Sanjou Samu (Gwendolyn Post), Matriarch of the Horino-gumi, a Direct Family of the Osato-kai
Miyamoto Suna (Xander), Matriarch of the Miyamoto-gumi, a Direct Family of the Amaya-kai
Akiyama Yoko (Willow), Matriarch of the Akiyama-gumi, a Direct Family of the Amaya-kai
The Aiki Consortium, A Direct Family of the Amaya-kai

Definitions: Gokudou is the term that the Clans use to refer to themselves.  Yakuza is the name given by the police.
Chief of HQ is a quite important administrative role--the right-hand woman that helps the Chairwoman's will be done.
Yubitsume, the act of cutting off a finger in repentance, is referenced.  As is the British V-sign, the British way of flipping people off.  (I seem to remember Spike having done it but I could be mistaken.)  There’s a double meaning here, as the story says it originated from British archers.  The index and middle finger were cut off by the French to prevent the archers from actually shooting, so archers who still had their fingers would show them off as a ‘haha I can still shoot you’ gesture.  Oxford Reference says that’s just urban folklore and probably not actually true but I love that explanation.
Ex post facto: After the fact, legal Latin.
Shimai: younger yakuza
Irezumi: tattoo, if drawn with spirit ink is illegal for a man
Irezumi youkai: tattoo spirit, what’s depicted in the tattoo, only manifests through special spirit ink
Drawing on an irezumi: allows for a slight boost in speed, etc
Invoking an irezumi: Allows one to use the irezumi powers, much more powerful than drawing on an irezumi though it can be maintained for much less time.
Author's Notes: In this universe, Japan is run by the women.  In the last one, Maki referred to himself almost exclusively in his head by his last name.  At HQ, he was, essentially, "on duty".  In this one, he's a little more casual in his thoughts, because he doesn't consider himself on duty.
More backstory for Maki!  More stuff about the Watcher’s Council!
All the dialogue out loud is in English.  Maki’s English is good, if formal, and definitely has an English accent from the tutor.
In real life, some Clans/syndicates forbid drug trafficking and others are heavily involved in drug trafficking.  I headcanon that the Tojo are one of those in Yakuza|RGG, which is why they’re always running low on money, while the Omi run drugs and make a point of flashing money around.  The Amaya-kai and Oni mirror this pattern, with the Osato-kai|Oni Alliance running drugs and the Amaya-kai forbidding it.
Kuroba is no more fond of the Watcher’s Council than her counterparts in the Amaya-kai.
“Ways of dealing with Slayers”—These are the people that developed the Tento di Cruciamentum.
Not to say that gangsters can’t get their hands on guns, but it’s much easier for a police officer to pull a stop-and-search than insist someone strip to prove they’re not packing a spirit tattoo.
I considered putting in the Spec Ops team then decided Natsukawa (one of them) was actually the one who wasted them.  These are the replacements.  They last about as long as Orochi employees.
I tried searching for Mrtya-mara to get a better look at the picture, only none of the results on any of the search engines are giving me Mrtya-mara like they did last year when I was writing GDA, they’re all saying “do you mean Mrtyu-mara?” and I’m like…okay, I know internet research is not the best, but also, that’s pretty bad.  What even. Thanks internet.
I really like the way Vincent Moretto covers Pledge of Demon which is already a great song.  There are some classy improv moments + this addition that sounds like classical Japanese influence and it matches this character so well.  Also they should never have given me the ability to pitchshift in VLC because that's too much fun to mess with and I need to post.  (I was watching youtube the normal way until it had a hissy fit and stopped working, after which I swapped to VLC and promptly started messing around).
Formatting is being difficult to wrangle, hang on, cooperate!!
More author's notes: background notes
Giles' tattoo|irezumi is of note in this one
Given some of Giles’ remarks placing this one in the timeline is actually pretty easy.  The most relevant story is the other one featuring Maki-san and the Watcher’s Council, Queen of the Night, to which this is kind of a sequel, after which come the two stories featuring Kumai’s betrayal, Miyamoto’s becoming a Matriarch, and in this one she’s meeting Cordy in the US.  (Buffy|Renyo likes to keep tabs on her girls.)  Which would make any stories with Miyamoto Cordelia after this one.

Main Points:
Buffy/Yakuza AU (Bloody Petals)
Chapter Summary: Kidnapping an affiliate of the Amaya-kai was probably a mistake.
Word Count: 2783
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Some of the reverse sexism stuff from the last time Maki|Giles showed up, the violence of Ripper Giles

 

 

        Akiharu wakes.  It’s slow, but his consciousness is already gathering information about his surroundings before he’s fully awake.
        It’s a survival skill, really.  When you’re not a husband and have no other obvious role to play in the gokudou, you have to keep an ear to the ground, constantly.  He knows he looks like a pretty doll, just a subservient butler, especially in the clinging kimono that doesn’t even let him walk without little baby steps, but the whispers that he’s practically chief of headquarters without even being sworn up, without even being a woman, aren’t too far off the mark.  For a man, it does seem as if he has an undue influence on things.
        He hadn’t put up too much of a fuss about his abduction, attempting to keep the kimono pristine.  It had been a gift from Kimiko.  She’d shared the lengths to which the Watcher’s Council was willing to go, in the past.  How she’d had to hunt down their dogs and send them back screaming to get them to stop sniffing around her baby.  The wrath of a Chairwoman was not one anyone would wish to invoke, so they’d backed off, and he’d honestly hoped it would be the last they’d hear of them, only for a Watcher turn up again, attempt to dictate terms to a Chairwoman, even if that Chairwoman was one of the youngest in a long time, and then send assassination squads after her when he’d turned down their oh-so-generous offer to become their slave.  Really, it seemed as if they had learned nothing and forgotten much, the past nineteen years.
        He’d known of them before, of course.  The rumors had called him a bastard child, and they were not incorrect on that count.  He had been confused as to why it mattered—many of the yakuza had the same story.  Mostly it was because he was seen as a way of undermining the Fourth and Fifth Chairwoman, he suspected.  Mostly because trading rumors about him had become something of a spectator sport.
        It wasn’t as if it wasn’t personally relevant, of course.  He’d been very interested to learn that he was the product of a Watcher’s dalliance with a woman he hadn’t realized was gokudou.  Reading between the lines of the magic and mundane intelligence he gathered on the subject, he learned of a man torn between the love for a woman and the distate for her profession.  A man continuing to grow disillusioned with the organization he served and and yet still served with great loyalty.  A loathsome, pitiful wretch of a man that yet believed that he could tempt away a son whose existence he hadn’t bothered acknowledging for sixteen years with an appalling offer: killing the woman Akiharu loved could lead to him using his ‘talents’ (the coveted and dreaded spirit ink that was quite the source of more than one heated discussion) in a more productive fashion.
        Conventional wisdom said it was folly to kill the messenger.  On the whole, Akiharu had learned from his years on the fringe of the gokudou that sometimes sending a message was a better point.  As such, the last the man had heard from him was a neatly boxed, neatly delivered finger.  He’d considered getting two, to properly flip off a Brit, but the man was screaming a little too much and anyway oka-san had come to investigate and was a little displeased.  (Kimiko, on the other hand, had thought it very romantic, which was a pleasant surprise.)  He hadn’t had to invoke, on that occasion.  This time, he probably would, which of course meant there could be no survivors.  It would be easy to say blackmail should play no part in his decisionmaking, but it was one thing to have rumors and another to have confirmation.  Even Renyo would probably have to act, if facts were shoved in her face.
        Warehouses smelled largely the same.  Well, at least the ones used by organized crime did.  Stale, dusty, with something that is probably rotting.  It’s faint, but there’s also something else slightly familiar but that Akiharu can’t place.
        “Wakey, wakey, Giles,” a voice sing-songs near his ear.  He decides to ignore it and continue to take inventory.  He hadn’t put up much of a fight, but had decided to rough him up anyway.  His ankle feels decidedly wrong, and he’s in the middle of trying to decide whether it was merely twisted or whether there’s something more the matter with it when a sharp pain interrupts his musings.  A punch to the face.  Unimpressive.
        He opens his eyes to see a man staring at him not two inches from his face.  He’s been party to better torture sessions than this.  Participated in them, even.  From everything he’s read of Allen, he’s even less impressive on paper.
        “We know you speak English.  You’re not fooling anybody,” Morris adds, glaring.
        “It’s just that, around these parts, you learn not to speak unless spoken to, and last I checked, Giles wasn’t my name.”  The bat to his ribs is slightly better and has him gasping.  It’s broken at least two, probably three of his ribs, but that’ll mean nothing in the fact of an invocation.  While he’s gasping, though, he gets a better whiff of the scent that’s bothering him, and finally can put a name to it.  Drugs.  Not recently, but this warehouse had been used for storing them.  That can only mean the Osato-kai are in on this little operation, probably against their Chairwoman’s word, too, since she isn’t any more fond of vermin.  And the shifting, of course, makes testing his restraints look perfectly natural.  Mere rope—magic-reinforced, of course, but he can make short work of it with a little distraction.
        “You’re Giles’ brat, and he shoulda taken you in a lot sooner, broke you of that little habit of talking back.”  He grins back, bloody and amused.  It’s a fair cop.  He’s always been smart in the sarcastic sense of the word.  The only thing he’s learned is to be smarter about the application; mutter it under his breath or keep it in his head to avoid offending the wrong woman with power.  But these people aren’t the ones he cares about their opinion, nor will anyone else, once he’s done with them.
        “I think you’ll find he’d fail.  As will you.”  He could play the meek little hostage but it seems that’d just be an exercise in futility in any case.
        “Do you not get that you’re a hostage?” Fletcher asks with incredulity.  He’ll have to watch her; from everything he’s read her spellcraft lives up to the reputation.
        “Oh, I do.  You’ll find I just simply don’t much care.  Whoever told you I was the weakest link was operating under a bit of a misconception, I’m afraid.”  He takes a stab in the dark.  “Matriarch Sanjou perhaps?”
        They don’t have to say anything to be spilling everything they know.  The truth is clear enough in the slight pause and widening of the eyes.
        “We have ways of dealing with Slayers,” Morris adds, gruff, and that’s certainly a misconception that makes Akiharu chuckle despite the way it makes Morris step forward to break a finger (child’s play, really) and the side effect of burning, aching ribs.
        “I’m sure you do.  How do you plan on dealing with a Chairwoman and the rest of her Clan?  Because as fractured as the Osato-kai like to portray us, you will have an army after you.”  He’s really quite curious about that point, actually.  The Osato-kai puts a little more thought into their raids.
        At least they know enough to try to stay quiet on that front.  He simply isn’t reacting as they expected.  How terrible for them.
        “What’s the easiest way into the Amaya Headquarters?” Allen, tired of being ignored it would seem.
        “Why, I believe your own Nicholas-san already tried the easiest way.  Being invited is your best choice.”  Allen’s preferred weapon of choice seems to be his fist, but at least he’d put more muscle into it this time.  Akiharu finds himself spitting out a bloodied tooth.  Maybe it’s time to stop playing around.  This little interrogation session is getting him nowhere.  How disappointing.  That’s the whole reason he’d gone along with all of this in the first place.
        “I don’t suppose Father dear came along to turn a few screws?” he asks, hopeful.  He has long desired a reunion on his own terms, though he suspects under circumstances Giles would not enjoy.
        “Waste his time on you?”  The man sneers.  Fair enough.  It’s another survival skill, perfecting the ability to be overlooked.  The younger Natsukawa daughter knew its value, which is probably the reason she can’t bring herself to trust him.  Limits, of course, exist.  The fact that his position is one that defies explanation, for example.  The fact that nothing can be proven, for example, that’s a great help.  The fact that he can do little things like this.
        He stands, and while their gaping disbelief and gasps are useful, he’s also definitely insulted.  It’s like no one’s managed to undo a knot or cut the ties before, and they certainly had underestimated the gokudou if they thought even one affiliated wouldn’t have a knife, even a small one, concealed in a sleeve.  “I should stop wasting time with you, then.  Natsukawa-sama will be wondering where I am.”
        They start readying their spells, taking that for the threat it is.  As ill-tuned as their radar for danger is, they can identify a spoken threat.  How marvelous for them.  It’ll hardly save them their lives.  Akiharu can feel the power brewing, like ozone in the air.  It’s a good smell, a comforting smell.  He would even go as far as to say it smells like home, though he’s not allowed to practice magic any more than he’s allowed the ink on his back.  Oh, but the lure of the forbidden, that’s beautiful.  Even more so than the fear permeating the room.
        “I’d request that you to tell my father to go to hell, but when you see him next, it’ll be ex post facto.”  Assuming, of course, that they even end up in the same one.  The afterlife is complicated; Akiharu knows that much from experience.
        From the stories the young shimai tell, drawing on an irezumi is a rush.  It’s a feeling he’s never experienced.  He doesn’t have the luxury of bathing in the lesser power, not when such a thing could easily lead to his death.  He never gets to bask in the flow of a stream.  For him, it’s always the raging torrent of a river threatening to sweep one away.  The feeling of knowing that he merely has to do one thing, just one, and an entire room of people don’t realize they’ve already died…
        Well, it’s a good thing he has some very good self control, because that’s exactly the kind of power that could go to one’s head.
        Instead, he invokes.  It manifests the same way it does for everyone, a sudden bath of spiritual red and black flames washing over his body.  The image of the Mara appears over his body, grinning at the thought of the carnage they will wreak.
        The exact effects of an irezumi youkai differ per person and youkai depicted.  Akiharu?  Akiharu becomes death.
        “Th-that’s illegal.”  So one of them did manage to do something resembling research about the situation they were stepping into.  Fletcher, predictably.  She seemed the only competent one in this whole scenario.  The others were a little too overconfident about their abilities.
        “And who, do you suppose, will be telling the authorities about this little bit of contraband?”  None of them respond, in words anyway.  There are whimpers and shrieks as the chill of death descends upon them.  The lights overhead shatter as one, casting the room into the darkness of death.  Several of them start shooting off spells and guns blindly—guns, mind you, that are highly illegal in Japan, and that they forbid their Slayers to carry.  That part is bit flashy, but then, not compared to a firestorm or earthquake or many of the other irezumi youkai.  But then, it doesn’t need to be graceful, or impressive, or anything but deadly.  Renyo’s glorious in action, seamlessly and gracefully blending together many different styles of fighting into one seamless fatal whole.  She takes after her mother in that regard, who acted like it was all a bloody play acted out for her own amusement.  He’s seen Miyamoto fight, hungry green gleam in her eyes, and knows that she moves like a graceful predator.  Akiyama’s all technical brilliance, like a fireworks display, lots of work behind the scenes and perhaps a little bit of sleight-of-hand to distract from the important bits.  Akeru’s a slight little thing that slips a knife between your ribs before you’ve even noticed she’s moved.  Akiharu, he supposes, is graceful enough when he has a sword or gun in his hand, years of surreptitious training allowing for a little flair here and there should he choose it’s required.  When it comes to using his irezumi youkai, it’s all brute force and efficiency.  He has to move as quickly as he can, even if he doesn’t think he’ll be interrupted.
        A few swords hit and seem to cause him pain, but he just keeps going anyway.  Nothing can kill death, after all, and it’s enough to allow him to go right through any wounds or pain they had inflicted before.  Even Fletcher’s death-spell fails to do anything, and he bares his teeth in fierce joy as her confidence melts away.
        One benefit he’s not sure many of his girls has noticed—invoking protects one from the blood, just a little.  The youkai covering his body isn’t exactly in this world, but it still absorbs some of the splatter.  Of course, doing this bare-handed is hardly as messy as using a sword or gun, but there’s still a little more blood on the ground than he would’ve liked once he’s done.  Perhaps one consequence of letting death out to play.
        He straightens the kimono as best he can, considering how it’s torn.  It’s still got blood on it, although he’s lucky enough most of it is his own, and his own injuries from where they’d apparently decided to torture him while unconscious (sloppy, it serves no purpose that way and wouldn’t satisfy even any sadistic urges they might have had, since any real responses would be missing) are convincing enough that the healers might not have any reason to look further.  If they do, well, he has ways of dealing with that situation as well.
        It takes a simple spell to summon a tengu, far too willing to start mischief in a land where offerings to all but the oni are shrinking.  Demon arson is common enough, and the presence of a youkai is enough to confuse the issue with the presence of his own irezumi youkai.  The tengu’s sister is kind enough to show him the spirit paths leading back to Amaya-kai HQ, though it soon becomes clear it’s a good thing he’s got a shortcut considering how the ankle starts to twinge.

        Natsukawa-sama pauses in the doorway, having stopped herself a second before she bowls into him, sword already summoned and hanging at her side.  It’s a good thing too.  With his limp and ribs, he’s not in the best of shape.  “I was going to rescue you.”
        “No need, just a simple family reunion that went awry.”  From the way her eyes narrow before she smiles, she’s not buying it.  Ah well.  Kimiko raised some very smart daughters.
        It takes her another moment to respond.  “Foreign negotiations are always a pain.  Especially with Miyamoto off in America spending more time flirting with a woman than cutting us a better deal on mystical contraband.”  That kind of love and trust is all he needs.  “Anything for me to have fun with?”
        He smiles in response.  Wider than a man in his position probably should at the woman he loves as a daughter but can never publicly acknowledge as such.  “No, sorry.  I put away all the toys.  I didn’t think you’d mind; most don’t want the Oni’s or Watcher’s leftovers.”
        She pouts, but nods firmly, thoughtful expression saying she understands exactly what he means.  “Get your ass to a healer, Maki-san.  I mean it.  That Aiki lieutenant should keep her mouth shut.”
        He bows as low as he can manage without tearing something and further ruining the silk and hurries off as much as a man in a kimono can.