Risk of Conviction

CANDYMAN

 

Prince Koenma was taller than I’d guessed. By the furniture we passed, I’d thought he was a dwarf, but he was over six feet high in person.

 

He reclined in a large chair behind a large desk and even then looked cramped and claustrophobic.

 

I came in and offered a shallow bow, my eyes staying hard on his, in the style of demons rather than the Japanese. “I am Shuichi Minamino. I was once the Silver Youko and I call myself Kurama. I am here for our appointment.”

 

The prince stood. “Welcome, Kurama. Please, come in.”

 

I stepped forward, my hand guarding my bag.

 

The prince smiled, motioning me forward.

 

I came, evaluating him. The prince’s body was soft, though his bone structure would have allowed him to train up formidably. He ate badly though; I could smell salt and grease on him, spices under the perfumed robes.  The light in his hair and eyes was all sculpted, melting honey. Even his voice came smooth. He was a politician, then, not a warlord.

 

“You know me already,” he said carelessly. No introduction.

 

His kind face was suspicious. Yet there was no recourse; he was the one I must deal with.

 

I reached careful into my school satchel, undoing the buckle, and pulled out the mirror. It was in a large cardboard jewelry box of my mother’s, taped shut and wrapped in a towel.

 

I held the box up, unopened, and bowed again. “Thank you for the privilege of using your mirror. I am deeply indebted to you.”

 

“We’ll get to that in a moment. For now,” he snapped his fingers and an ogre came forward to take the mirror. “Ogre, please return the mirror to the safe. The new safe,” he grinned, self-deprecatingly. “The fox-proof safe.”

 

I smiled, to show appreciation of his jest. I placed the box in the ogre’s callused fingers.

 

The simple creature hustled it off, barking, “Yes sir!”

 

 “We’ve made a few changes around here,” the prince said, his eyes twinkling. “I hope you find it less hospitable then the last time you were here.”

 

I exhaled, my breath unsteady now that my leverage was gone. But I looked up with a face that expected no punishment. I wanted him to feel what a small deal it was – preferably before he learned that the mirror had broken upon granting Urameshi’s wish. “Perhaps I can atone for the mess.”

 

The prince nodded. “Perhaps you can.” He tapped his fingers on his lips. “Please sit down.”

 

I looked. There was no chair.

 

The prince waited.

 

I came before the desk and knelt.

 

My slacks bunched clumsily; they were tailored to stand in and present research findings, not to crawl about the floor. Still, I tried to be graceful.

 

Prince Koenma came around the desk and leaned back against the edge, folding his arms to watch me.  I looked him over and then kept my eyes ahead, livid.

 

My thoughts grated. Did he think that I was his after a transgression? Did he imagine his power as regent was anything more than a temporary strong-man position of a rather young ruling dynasty?  He didn’t fight for himself; that much was obvious in his body, refined and soft as milled flour.  His death was waiting upon a revolution of some C-class mob or B-class cartel. I seethed.

 

He rubbed his lip and stared down. Arrogant, dull child. I searched for an excuse to stand.

 

“You look different from your picture.” Prince Koenma gestured with a hand. A projection appeared on the wall, an awkward photograph of me. My eyelids were low in weak melancholy. It might have been taken during the robbery.

 

His eyes compared my face to the photo. “You were miserable.”

 

“My mother was dying. I was not pleased with what I had to do to save her.” Nor was I aware there was a camera left.

 

“Yusuke told us. Personally, I’m glad your mother made a full recovery.” Prince Koenma looked down at the desk, playing with a glass paperweight. “I hate processing good people leaving their…children.”

 

“I owe everything to her. And to Urameshi.”

 

I realized with a jolt that it was not a paperweight he was playing with but a blue rubber pacifier. He put it in his mouth.

 

I did not know what to make of that. But I chose not to react.

 

He spoke around the rubber. “You almost died trying to save your mother.”

 

I held up my open hands, trying not to laugh. Negotiations would be thorny enough. “The greatest difference between my human and demon self is that I am willing to die.”

 

“Is this new?”

 

“This intense fatalism, yes.”

 

“Odd.”

 

“I agree.” I smiled honestly. “But that is what family does.”

 

“Is that why you are here?”

 

“I always intended to return the mirror. In a fashion.” I amended. “I expected to die using it.”

 

“And once you lived, what changed your mind? A sudden and deep respect for the law, I’m sure.”

 

“Urameshi-san said you were reasonable and merciful, that you understood the grey areas of guilt and morality.” Most importantly, Urameshi said that he needed fighters and would take anyone. I added, “The detective is a fine ambassador, I suppose. One trusts his judgment without hesitation.”

 

Prince Koenma chortled, “And throws ‘oneself’ at the mercy of the organization that once hunted you down.”

 

“That was a long time ago.”

 

“If you are harboring thoughts of revenge, I should warn you that we are well protected against assassins.”

 

I said nothing about how ill protected they were against thieves. “I am completely unarmed.”

 

“Let’s see.”

 

Prince Koenma gripped the desk with one hand and leaned over me. He threw my hair off my shoulder and his hand snaked inside to the back of my neck.

 

I put one hand against the desk to brace against the obnoxious intrusion.

 

His fingers worked slowly through my hair, nails catching strands and scratching my scalp gently. “That was wise. I hadn’t expected you to part with your rose whip.”

 

I felt like a dog being checked for fleas.  “I will always do what is necessary.”

 

“Some would call that cold.”

 

“We all do what we need to survive, cold or admirable. Unfortunately, I have few resources in my life, and morality was a luxury. I had to make choices that I did not like.”

 

“We didn’t like them much either.”

 

The prince smoothed the locks of hair that fell over my ears.

 

His eyes were too intent to look at directly. I glanced sideways at the room, feeling a pressure to speak that as sharp as a stiletto to my throat, a panic to say something, anything.

 

“For a king, you live humbly.”

 

“You live among humans.”

 

“I suppose to some that is humble living. To me, it is worth every treasure I could have and every sacrifice I make.”

 

“Thanks for your honesty,” he said, making me apprehensive. “As you know, this is a time of confession.”

 

Would that I could growl! But I kept the scorn off my face.

 

The prince sat back on the desk, grinning around that ridiculous pacifier. He took it out of his mouth and set it back on the desk. “You’ve heard of ‘Alcoholics Anonymous’?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

The prince said, raising his voice. “It acts on the principle that an addict never cured. A pure life begins with removing temptation.” Prince Koenma motioned to the blank walls. “With your record, I did some remodeling.”

 

That scorched my face. “I did not come here with any intention of theft – further theft.  I am sorry for your trouble.”

 

“You could bow. Without your skills, none of this would have happened, not the theft, not the murders, not the planned genocide! Which upgrades you to the instigator of the entire attack.”

 

“That is ridiculous!” I burst out. “I abandoned them! I harmed no one - and I returned the artifact -”

 

“Fourteen ogres were harmed. So were human children. There was a crime; you enabled it. There will be consequences.”

 

“But to count me as cause – “ That was a high crime. The theft alone was enough to be punished, but the genocide threat could get me tortured loose of the human soul and damned.

 

“We will.”

 

“No, I will accept any punishment you give me, but please - ” I bowed over the floor, glad to be on my knees already so that I would not have to further humiliate myself by dropping as I groveled. “Show charity.”

 

“Give me a reason.”

 

The bargaining war opened.