D. N. Angel Fan Fiction ❯ Touch ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

 

Touch

 

Chapter 3

 

The three of them watched me, eyes wide. Officer Yamakawa's mouth was slightly open. I guess I can't really blame them for staring so unbelievably. Saying that you just received an empathic vision from a dead body is a bit of a stretch for the rational world. Or rather, the ignorant world.

 

Leaning my hip against the shiny steel counter, I wished desperately for a cup of strong tea. Coffee is nice and all and I do drink one or two cups often, but if I overdo it with the caffeine, my powers seem to get more of a zing out of it than my body does.

 

“Are you ready for victim number two, Simon-san?” Aisho-sensei inquired gently as he adjusted the white sheet covering Chisato so that it concealed her hand once more. “You seem very tired,” he added, tweaking a corner of the cloth.

 

Swallowing the urge to say something unbecoming, I replied, “Nah, I'm fine.” My hands remained crossed over my chest and motionless as I straightened and walked back to the gurneys. My sneakers squeaked loudly on the clean white tile of the floor and I rolled my shoulders experimentally. When no twinge of an open wound made me wince, I considered the scratches healed. Just like they were supposed to. Most injuries that actually happen during the vision heal up fast, leaving no scars and minimal blood. Unfortunately, that doesn't apply to the blood stains left in my cloths. Because of that, I throw out more shirts than anyone should have to.

 

“Yahagi Kayoko,” said Hiwatari, who stood across from me, “was cut up and burned more pre-mortem than Numai.” He watched me intensely, but impassively, from his post against the wall. “You'll take more damage.”

 

I was silent for a moment and then responded, “I know, but my pain will go away. It will heal.” It's the least I can do for them, I added in my thoughts. Somehow, I think he understood that.

 

“Was she a righty or a lefty, sensei?” I asked looking down at the covered corpse.

 

“She was also right handed.”

 

“Alright. Could you pull the sheet away from her right arm, then? Officer Yamakawa, is the tape still rolling?”

 

“Yes. It's ready when you are,” the man stated, tinkering with the buttons on the camera. Probably zooming in or something.

 

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and braced my body in anticipation of the vision. I lowered my hands until I felt cold, rubbery skin under my fingertips.

 

I'm walking home from the park. Sweat gelling in the cool night air; I reach my hands high over my head to stretch my muscles. Running is great exercise.

 

A car pulls up beside me. A gray Honda with a man in the driver's seat.

 

“Hey there, Kayoko-san,” he greets smoothly, fiddling with his sunglasses.

 

Sunglasses? But the sun has set…

 

“Do I know you?” I demand.

 

“No, but I'm a friend of your brother, Kazuya. Do you need a ride home? I'm on my way there,” He smiles when he says it, but I get chills.

 

“Uh, no thanks, buddy. I'm fine.” I start to jog away. Creepy freak.

 

The car bumps the back of my legs, and I tumble to the ground.

 

“You should have just gotten in the damn car, swan.”

 

A cloth over my mouth and nose. I struggle.

 

Darkness…

 

Awareness came back to me slowly, very much unlike the violence of the last time. Pulling my hand away, I accidentally brushed a blackened burn on Kayoko's forearm. A tingling sensation shot up my arm and I knew I was in trouble.

 

“Simon-san-“

 

I can't feel my fingers. The ropes are too tight, way too tight.

 

Fingers grip my chin. Squeezing. “Hold still,” he orders.

 

Smoke from a cigarette. Smoke from burning flesh. I whimper through the cloth in my mouth.

 

It hurts!

 

“Just one more, swanling,” the Man whispers in my ear.

 

I'm glad I can't see the burns. I'm glad I can't see anything.

 

Pain! My arm is sizzling. Burnt flesh.

 

His mouth on my neck. A bite. “I'll make you beautiful.”

 

Someone help me.

 

Tears drip down my face. I'd thought I'd run out.

 

Sharp pain in my stomach. I jerk. Another. Blood bubbles in my chest.

 

Another. Another. One, two, three.

 

“Simon-san!”

 

“Don't touch her, Sensei!”

 

Stumbling, I crashed down into the floor and I stayed there, hands clamped down over the holes in my abdomen. Blood flowed freely, leaking between my fingers. Groaning, I curled on my side, fighting to breathe. “Mother fu-“ My curses were cut off by a fit of coughing.

 

Slowly, the pain begins to dissipate, and my lungs can work a little better. I push myself up with one arm. “Damn it…”

 

Dr. Aisho was kneeling next to me, hovering like a good doctor should. I guess being a coroner doesn't take away from all that medical training they get in ER. “Simon-san, dou deshita ka?”

 

My brain took its sweet time translating that. “I just got stabbed in the stomach, Sensei. How do you think I feel?” I gasped sarcastically through my panting. That fucking hurt.

 

Looking up at the doctor, he surveyed me reprovingly, clearly not happy with my response. Hiwatari was also looking at me, except his expression clearly said “I told you so.” I resisted the urge to glare at him, and instead sat up. Without embarrassment, I lifted up my ruined shirt to inspect my abdomen. I've exposed more skin during an investigation, plus I'm pretty secure in my own body. Huzzah for a good shrink.

 

I watched the wounds get smaller and smaller until all that was left was reddish residue on my stomach.

 

“Subarashii,” Aisho-sensei breathed as I lowered my shirt.

 

“I know, Sensei, it is amazing,” I told him with a smile. “And very convenient. Too bad it doesn't happen when I get hurt any other way. Then I heal like everyone else.”

 

Pushing to my feet, I groaned as the muscles in my stomach twitched violently. The downside to quick healing is that it sometimes happens too fast and so the body can't keep up. “Well, that was interesting.”

 

“Are you joking?” Officer Yamakawa asked, sounding shocked.

 

“I think she means that she learned something, Officer,” Hiwatari said quietly. He had moved from his position at the wall to next to the last gurney in the line.

 

“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock,” I muttered, feeling annoyed. I don't know why, but his presence was starting to antagonize me. And I mean in a huge way. Maybe it was because I was still pissed that he was being stubborn with his injuries, or maybe I was just suffering from lack of sleep. But it was like his… I hate to us this word, but… Well, his aura was prickling my preternatural senses a little too much.

 

“So, Simon-san, what did you see this time?” the blue-eyed youth asked, shifting his weight slightly from one foot to the other.

 

“Well, our guy was driving a late-model Honda with dark leather interior,” I informed them, my eyes looking into the camera. I went on, filling in the details as best I could. When I finished, I signaled Officer Yamakawa to pause the recording. As I had recounted the vision and mentally compared it to the one I had gotten off of Chisato, something had struck me as odd.

 

Frowning thoughtfully, I leaned against the counter again. “I couldn't smell him.”

 

“Nani?” all three males in the room questioned.

 

I repeated it, louder this time. “I could smell blood, burnt flesh, sweat, and a myriad of other things that came from the victim, but I couldn't smell anything from the killer. That's never happened before. Even if he'd taken a shower, I'd smell soap or shampoo. I don't care if you are covered head to foot in latex, I'd smell something. Anything. It's practically impossible for someone to have no scent.”

 

“That is curious,” Aisho-sensei admitted.

 

Everyone one else was silent.

 

Finally, I straightened and instructed Yamakawa to resume filming.

 

Aisho-sensei was already in motion, folding back the left side of the white sheet covering the third body. “Nanahara Izumi was left handed,” he said moving away.

 

The pale hand was covered in scrapes and bruises. Her knuckles were especially battered. Defensive wounds. Izumi had fought, and fought hard.

 

I lowered my hands towards Izumi's, but couldn't quite bring myself to go that extra inch. Even though I don't do this every single day, and at worst I have maybe two cases a year, but I really didn't want to see anything else today. I was tired.

 

“Tantei?”

 

Startled, I looked up at Hiwatari. “What is it?”

 

“You've been standing like that for a while. For a moment, I'd thought you'd fallen asleep standing up,” he commented.

 

Was it just me, or was he slightly amused by that?

 

“I'm fine,” I insisted, resigned. Turning my gaze back to the body, Izumi's body, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. The familiar tensing of my body followed. I was dimly aware that Hiwatari had moved closer, and then heard Yamakawa follow with the camera in tow. And then, slowly, I rested my warm hand on the lifeless one on the table.

 

I am writing in my journal, swinging idly on the old swing in my family's backyard.

 

Peaceful.

 

A twig snapped to my right, loudly. I turn, startled. No one should be here. Mom won't be home for another hour or so.

 

There was no one there.

 

Pain exploded in the back of my skull.

 

A whirl of color and sound and I found myself in another scene.

 

Just a little bit more.

 

The stone slid in my hand. My fingers were slick with my own blood. I tightened my grip.

 

Faster.

 

The knots give a little.

 

A door opens, and then closes.

 

He's back.

 

Faster faster faster. Come on, Izumi, faster!

 

The rope falls from my wrists. Then I pull the blindfold off my eyes and scramble out of the bindings on my ankles.

 

It's still so dark.

 

Footsteps are closer.

 

He opens the door, but he pauses. And laughs. “Ah, little swan, what now, hm?” He reaches out to me.

 

“No, don't touch me!” I punch at his face, and manage to graze his teeth.

 

He grabs my arms.

 

“NO!” I kick out, flail.

 

The Man throws me into the wall. And laughs. Comes closer.

 

I get up, ready to fight again. I won't let him touch me again! Not like that!

 

The back of his hand sends me to the floor. Fingers tangle in my hair. They yank me up. Tears flow freely from my eyes.

 

I kick again.

 

He kicks back.

 

I flew backwards from the body, the remnants of the vision dancing in my head. Something vaguely soft takes the impact of my body, and I heard someone grunt. I had the briefest moment to register that this was bad, when the next vision caught my awareness.

 

I won't let him out again.

 

Yes you will, the monster within me whispers. You will have no choice.

 

No! Leave me alone, Krad!

 

Pain in my chest brings me to my knees. Not again.

 

Stop it!

 

It shattered as agony tore through my body.

 

People were shouting, but the Japanese was too fast for me to follow. I just leaned against the person behind me, completely dazed. My heart was pounding frantically, and I was dangerously close to hyperventilating.

 

“Hey, Hiwatari?” I said to the person who I had crashed into.

 

“What the hell-?”

 

“That's why I don't like being touched.”