#it is way too late here and my dearest content box fools: uh... yeah.

[ikesenhell]

Status: Solved

Again., Chapter 9–a collaboration by myself and @a-shout-to-the-void​ AKA Vaya. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here, and Vaya’s here. NOTES: AND THUSLY WE FIGURE OUT THE CASE.

TO: NOBUNAGA ODA

FROM: IEYASU TOKUGAWA

RE: ZACHARY BETO APARTMENT SEARCH WARRANT

Police issued a search warrant for the apartment of Zachary “Zach” Beto, age 22, at 7:52 p.m. Upon arrival, police were greeted with a belligerent Beto. He demanded to see the warrant, then attempted to bar the officers from entry. He was removed from the doorway and restrained as officers conducted their search.

In the apartment, police found:

>multiple open boxes of pizza, contents unfinished >One broken x-Box >One mint condition x-Box >One angry ferret, cage uncleaned >Three skateboards without deck tape >Two skateboards with deck tape >A furby that would not stop talking >One Ms. Renee Ailes, aged 16, sitting on the couch

CONCLUSION: Fuck that guy.

---

AUDIO TRANSCRIPT

Officer: Renee, are you aware that we’ve been looking for you for quite some time?

RENEE: No.

Officer: And here I was thinking you kids were so plugged in these days.

RENEE: I’m not a kid.

Officer: You--you’re--How old are you, Renee?

RENEE: Sixteen.

Officer: Thank you for reminding me. This old noggin ain’t what is used to be, ya know?

RENEE: ...sure

Officer: I’d like to ask you a couple questions about your dad’s murder.

RENEE: Yeah, I know. I already agreed to this. We did the whole rights thing and whatever. So go on. Ask.

Officer: Were you there, that day? With your dad?

RENEE: Yep.

Officer: And did--tell me, did you notice anything weird? Anything happen that might have been freaky?

RENEE: What, you--other than my dad being murdered, you mean?

Officer: Before that.

RENEE: [Eight second pause] I mean, him and my mom fought.

Officer: Fought? They--could you, uh, tell me about this fight?

RENEE: Like, screaming, shouting. Mom was--I, um, she just. So angry, you know? Screaming her head off, couldn’t even understand her she was yelling so loud, and um. I. My dad kept telling her to calm down, and she just yelled more, and then she um. She uh, reached in her--her purse, yeah, and she pulled out this--this knife, like a big one from our kitchen, and I. I just sort of ran, it was really scary, and I just. I didn’t want her to find me, because like. Like I knew the truth, you know? So I had to hide until she was gone for good. I um. Didn’t really think anyone would notice.

Officer: [Extended pause] Just--just to be clear, now. You said your parents were screaming at each other?

RENEE: Yes.

Officer: On the street.

RENEE: Yeah.

Officer: And your mom had a knife, you said?

RENEE: That’s what I said.

Officer: [Five second pause] Renee, are you lying to me right now?

RENEE: What are you--

Officer: We interviewed the whole neighborhood and nobody heard any screaming. You wanna try that again?

RENEE: Well I--maybe people didn’t hear--

Officer: Hear all that screaming? Right outside of their houses? Well, maybe it’s possible, but that would be pretty weird, don’t you think?

RENEE: I--

Officer: Who are you covering for, Renee? That guy? Zach, right?

RENEE: Zach had nothing to do with--

Officer: Dad found out about your relationship and didn’t like it too much, right? And Zach wasn’t about to take some old man telling him who he could and couldn’t date, so he--

RENEE: No, Zach would never--I don’t--why would you even say--

Officer: If you come clean and tell the truth about Zach right now, you’re gonna be okay. He goes away, and you’re safe. He can’t hurt you.

RENEE: He would never hurt me! He--he wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Officer: Did he use another knife? Fake a murder weapon with your kitchen knife, keep his prints off the crime scene, peel off in that car of his before anybody thought to ask questions?

RENEE: How do you even know--

Officer: His car was at the scene of the crime. I know it, you know it. All we need from you--

RENEE: You don’t understand--

Officer: Tell us it wasn’t your mother and--

RENEE: I don’t--I don’t--I--I--I can’t--

Officer: He’ll go down for this like he should--

RENEE: No he didn’t make me do anything I did--

Officer: And you’ll be safe from the murderer.

RENEE: It was my knife I did it please don’t send him to jail--

Officer: [Extended pause] Could you say that again?

RENEE: Please don’t send Zach to jail he didn’t kill anyone I did he has a ferret--

Officer: Oh my god.

RENEE: [Extended silence. Soft weeping is audible.]

---

Kenshin didn't get invited to as many parties as he used to. Granted, he’d never liked being invited--he only ever went for the alcohol and because Shingen Takeda (back when they were firm partners on medical malpractice suits) often forced him to. Those days felt like forever ago. Just as often he’d go as stay home with his wife and curl up together on the couch.

Then breast cancer claimed Isehime. Then he was nearly disbarred after assaulting her former doctor.

Needless to say, he wasn’t invited to many parties anymore.

Something about Isehime’s death had both sharpened and shattered him in one. He had less patience with fools these days. He was more withdrawn and sullen, more prone to drinking, more lost in his thoughts. Caring hurt. God, it hurt so badly. Some nights he wanted to drink his heart dead.

His old friend, Sasuke Sarutobi, was just as determined to see that never happen. It took some convincing, but somehow (somehow!) he wound up in a small soiree with Hideyoshi Toyotomi, of all people. They got to talking. Talking turned to stories of Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide’s daughter, Leyla, and next thing he knew, he was spending time with the small family. At first it was almost too painful to bear. How could he look at their wonderful world without thinking about the one he’d never make with his late wife?

It softened eventually.

He still cried some nights. He wrapped a pillow in one of her old nightshirts (an extra soft one that she used to wear when she worked in the garden at their old home, the one he’d sold because it had too many memories of them) and clung to it. But life moved on. The days pressed relentlessly forward, and he went with it.

So here he was: at a party. With the prosecutor’s office, his former rivals. Holding a Shirley Temple, of all things, in one hand, and Leyla bouncing on his arm with the other. The toddler was almost completely asleep against him.

“Do you need a break?” Hideyoshi offered, hovering around like the mother hen he was.

“I’m fine.” Kenshin adjusted her with a shift of his elbow. “She’s tuckered out.”

“Yeah. She didn't have naptime today.”

That was just fine by him. Kenshin settled down into a chair and crossed his legs, balancing the girl against his chest. Nearby on the other couch, Mitsunari Ishida--their genius extraordinaire and airhead--was picking through his phone for something.

“Ieya--” The man blinked owlishly at Kenshin before smiling. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Mr. Uesugi. I didn't see you there.”

“I imagine not,” Kenshin noted. “You had your nose in your phone.”

“Sorry. I know it must seem rude of me.” Mitsunari paused, contemplative. “Say, do you know much about mattresses?”

“No more than the next guy.”

“Mmm.” Mitsunari frowned at his phone. “Do you think a King or a California King is better for more than two people? Or is the California King just excessive?”

It took a few seconds for the question to really hit home. Kenshin almost wanted to laugh. “Are you planning slumber parties?”

The other man opened his mouth, worked his jaw, shut it. Tellingly, those bright purple eyes roved over to--ah. Tokugawa and Williams. Those two looked deep in conversation over a punch bowl.

“Can’t say,” Mitsunari answered cheerily. “Maybe! Maybe I just like to splay out.”

“You’re not subtle.” Kenshin permitted himself a chuckle. “Go with the California King, if you really like to splay out so much. You might not be the only one.”

Apparently this hadn’t occurred to Mitsunari. He nodded fiercely, tapping away at the phone. “You’re right. Slumber parties can be messy.”

“What can be messy, now?” Hideyoshi appeared from nowhere, glass in hand and a thousand questions in his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Mattresses,” Mitsunari answered. “Did I say something odd?”

Mitsuhide appeared from seemingly nowhere, wrapping his arm around his husband’s waist. “Dearest, you owe me money on our bet.”

Hideyoshi paused for a half second before lighting up. “They are!?”

“What?” Mitsunari blinked. “What? What?”

“Nothing.” Hideyoshi staggered, fishing out his wallet and putting it back. “I’ll just--I’ll just take you to dinner one night.”

For his part, Kenshin just laid back and observed. It was miraculous to him that the others didn't see it sooner. Tokugawa wasn’t much of a man for contact, but the way he and Williams entwined around each other was poetry in motion. It made sense. Tokugawa was gold and she was bronze and Ishida was silver, all three of them like precious metals that wound seamlessly together.

Leyla stirred in his lap.

“Ke-shi?” She murmured, and all his attention turned back to her.

“Hush,” he murmured, and sipped his Shirley Temple.