InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ A Purity Short: The Fairy Tale ❯ Sunrise ( Chapter 4 )

~~Chapter Four~~

~Sunrise~

 

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:University of Edinburgh:

:Saturday, August 30, 2059:

 

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“Don't scream.”

 

Meara's eyes flashed open, and she blinked in the darkness, her breathing harsh against the hand covering her mouth.

 

Morio slowly lifted his hand. “Sorry about that.”

 

“M-Morio?” she stammered, her brain functioning pitifully slowly. She glanced at the clock and frowned. “It's four-thirty in the morning . . .”

 

“Yeah, I know,” he replied with an apologetic little shrug. “But I'm only getting one chance, right? So I aim to take advantage of it.”

 

“Oh, you have got to be kidding,” Meara grumbled, pulling the blankets over her head.

 

He pulled them away. “Come on, Meara, or we'll miss it . . .”

 

Grudgingly opening one eye, she regarded the hanyou carefully. He didn't look like he'd lost his mind in the few hours since his unceremonious departure out the window. That didn't really mean he hadn't lost his mind, though . . . “Miss what?” she asked.

 

“Trust me, okay? You'll love it . . . Hurry up! I've got the entire day planned out!”

 

“You're mad . . .”

 

He chuckled, catching her hands and pulling her into a sitting position. “I'm not mad; I swear. Now come on.”

 

She shook her head and rubbed her face. “I still need a shower and some coffee . . .”

 

“You look fine,” he assured her.

 

She rolled her eyes. “I'm wearing my nightgown,” she protested. “Forget it, Izayoi. I'm not going anywhere until I've had my shower.”

 

He heaved a longsuffering sigh and nodded. “All right. You go get your shower, and I'll make coffee for you.”

 

“Really?” she asked with a little grudging little smile.

 

“Really,” he quipped. “Now hurry up . . . I didn't want to drive, but I can if we're running late . . .”

 

Seeing no way out of it, Meara kicked the blankets back and stood up, grabbing her terry bathrobe of the end of her bed before shuffling out of the room once more.

 

`Maybe I'm mad,' she mused as she stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the light.

 

She'd been up much too late the night before, unable to settle down when all she wanted to do was to get through the night and the time before the date with Morio began. She was looking forward to it far more than she ought to, but she just couldn't help herself, either.

 

Stripping off her nightgown and the delicate white silk panties she favored, she stepped under the flowing tap of the shower and sighed as the barest hint of a smile surfaced.

 

He was as excited as she was, wasn't he?

 

`Of course he is, silly! He's been trying to convince you to go out with him forever, hasn't he?'

 

Meara's smile widened as she carefully lathered her hair. `Maybe . . . I wonder what he's got planned . . .'

 

`Just promise that you really will let yourself have a good time today,' her youkai chided.

 

`Let myself?' she echoed as she squeezed body wash onto a pale yellow scrubby. `Hmm . . .'

 

`Yes, let yourself . . . He could . . . he could really make us happy . . .'

 

Deliberately closing her mind against anything that might intrude on her temerarious sense of happiness, she finished her shower as a sense of excitement welled inside her.

 

`It's going to be great, isn't it?' she mused as she stepped out from under the taps and dried herself off.

 

`Yes . . . just believe it, and it will be . . .'

 

Tugging the belt of her robe closed after toweling her hair dry, Meara padded out to the kitchen only to find Morio digging two mugs out of the cupboard. He spared her a moment to smile broadly before pouring coffee into the cups. “You about ready?”

 

She giggled, taking the mug he held out to her. “What should I wear?” she asked, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic.

 

He scratched his chin thoughtfully, leaning against the counter as he pondered her question. “Let's see . . . You might want a swimsuit . . . maybe something casual . . . something a little nicer for later . . . Sound good?”

 

She blinked, staring at him over the rim of the coffee mug. “Really . . .”

 

“Yep. Now hurry up or we'll miss it.”

 

“Miss what?”

 

He wrinkled his nose, ears twitching as he grabbed the other mug off the counter. “Get moving, Meara. There're a lot of things I can do, but I cannot influence Mother Nature.”

 

Raising her eyebrows at his cryptic answer, Meara turned on her heel and shuffled out of the kitchen. Making a face as she stared at Iona's closed bedroom door, she bit her lip and tried to tell herself that her friend wouldn't be that irritated with her for waking her up . . .

 

Taking a sip of the coffee, Meara choked and forced herself to swallow. `Ugh . . . that's horrible . . .' she choked. `Nasty, awful, bad!'

 

Pushing Iona's door open as she cleared her throat to rid her mouth of the vile taste of the sludge that Morio called coffee, she flipped on the overhead light and walked over, using her knee to jostle the mattress where Iona lay sleeping.

 

“Hmm? Wha . . .?” Iona mumbled, rolling over and burying her face deeper in the pillows.

 

“Wake up,” Meara said. “I need your help.”

 

Uttering a frustrated groan, Iona sat up, grabbing her watch off the nightstand and rubbing her eyes as she blinked at the device. “Meara? It's not even five in the morning,” she pointed out with a shake of her head.

 

“I know . . . Morio's here already, and I need your advice.”

 

Iona flopped back on her pillows and yawned. “Advice . . .? Is he mad? No one goes on a date at five in the morning,” she pointed out.

 

“Well, he does, and he says I need a swimsuit, so which one should I wear? The pink one or the yellow one?”

 

Iona pushed herself up on her elbows, waving her hand in the direction of Meara's coffee cup. “Pink or yellow . . .” she mused with a thoughtful scowl then shook her head. “White.”

 

“White?” Meara echoed, cheeks pinking as she thought about the swimsuit in question. “The bikini?”

 

“Yes,” Iona stated. “The bikini.”

 

Biting her lip, Meara couldn't stave back the little blush that rose to stain her cheeks. “The bikini,” she repeated.

 

Iona reached over, snagging the coffee out of Meara's slack hand. “That'd be the one. That is definitely a Morio-Izayoi-date-bikini.”

 

She broke into a timid little smile. “You . . . you think so . . .?”

 

Iona shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

 

Meara opened her mouth to warn Iona about the God-awful coffee but grimaced when her friend took a huge swallow only to choke out a disgusted hacking noise and slam the mug down on her nightstand, her face contorting in obvious agony. “Oh, my God!” she croaked out. “What the hell is that?”

 

“Morio made coffee. Wasn't that nice of him?” Meara asked pleasantly, wisely holding back her own amusement over her friend's misfortune since she knew, herself, just how bad the coffee really was.

 

“Ugh . . . I think I'm going to die,” Iona rasped out. “Nasty!”

 

Meara rolled her eyes. “Focus, Iona! The white bikini? Really?”

 

Iona nodded then grimaced, affecting a full-body shiver as she tried to brush off the side-effects of the pungent brew. “Yes, really,” she said. “Then again, maybe not. After that coffee? I'm not so sure anymore . . .”

 

Meara giggled, pressing her hand against her stomach in an effort to calm her nerves. “The white bikini it is . . .” she decided, turning to leave Iona in peace.

 

“Have fun,” Iona called after her, her voice muffled once more by her pillow.

 

“I will,” Meara called back.

 

Hurrying into her bedroom, she smiled to herself and closed the door quietly. No doubt about it; she had a feeling that she was going to enjoy the date more than she wanted to admit . . .

 

 

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“Can I take off the blindfold yet?”

 

Morio snorted. “Keh! No.”

 

She wrinkled her nose but let her hands drop away from the white kerchief that Morio had carefully tied around her head before helping her into his car. “But I want to see where we're going!” she protested.

 

“All in good time, wench,” he informed her. “Where's your sense of adventure?”

 

She uttered a soft little sound of complete exasperation at that. “Where?” she tried again.

 

Morio shook his head. “Stop being so impatient. You've had a good time so far, haven't you?”

 

Meara wrinkled her nose but couldn't help the little smile on her face.

 

All right, so she was having the time of her life thus far. After walking down to the beach to watch the sunrise over coffee—purchased coffee, thank God, not Morio's horrid concoction—and huge, fluffy croissants that he'd buried in a cooler under a large log on the beach, they'd talked for awhile about nothing in particular before diving swimming for a few hours. She'd never been to the beach so early in the morning, and she had to admit that it was a welcome thing. No one else was there, and it had been peaceful.

 

She'd buried Morio up to his neck in the sand, and while he'd grumbled about getting sand in places where it ought not be, he'd let her, and all she'd been able to do in the end was smile and shake her head at his silliness. When she's stripped off the loose blue sundress to reveal the white string bikini, she'd waited almost breathlessly for Morio to notice. He'd been busy shaking sand out of his hair, and when he'd stopped only to do a double take, she couldn't help the shyness that had overcome her. Sure, she knew that she had a decent figure, but she'd always been a little self-conscious of her breasts. She wasn't exactly voluptuous, but judging from the look in Morio's eyes, maybe that was all right, too. He'd certainly had enough trouble swallowing and forming coherent words, and Meara had only been able to giggle at him. She'd have given the world to know just what was going through his mind in those moments. Then again, if the appreciative light in his golden gaze had meant anything at all, maybe she already knew what he had been thinking . . .

 

“We're here,” he announced as he pulled into a parking space and shut off the engine. “Just sit tight. I'll come around and help you out.”

 

Meara sat still, waiting impatiently as Morio stepped around the car and opened the door, grasping her hands to pull her out of the vehicle. “Ready?”

 

Turning her head slowly, she frowned as she tried to discern noises. None of them made much sense to her, and in the distance, she could hear the sound of people screaming. `What on earth . . .?'

 

Strange smells filtered to her on the breeze; a mix of water and salt and heated cooking oil, and none of them made sense to her. She could feel the electricity of human auras, an excitement that she couldn't quite credit. The last time she'd felt anything this powerful had been when she'd gone to that concert Morio had given her tickets to go to, and even then, this aura seemed different somehow . . . if only she could figure out why . . .

 

He pulled her along behind him. “Two, please,” he said. Meara turned her head toward the sound of change being dropped into a metal tray. “Thank you.”

 

“Enjoy your visit,” A friendly voice said.

 

“Careful,” Morio intoned, gently pushing Meara against a metal bar.

 

`A turnstile,' she thought absently as she gingerly shoved through the pass.

 

Morio stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Okay,” he relented. “You can take that off now.”

 

She pulled it off and blinked as she looked around. People were milling around; parents with small children . . . teenagers enjoying the final days of the summer holiday . . . He'd brought her to Edinburgh Playorium, the new amusement park that had been completed just a few years ago. She'd never been to a place like that, and it took a few minutes for her to accustom herself to the surroundings. “An amusement park?” she asked finally, turning a quirked eyebrow expression on him. “What am I? Five?”

 

Morio grimaced and shrugged, hiding his discomfort behind a bright smile but not before Meara saw it and flinched. “We can go somewhere else,” he ventured, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets with a shrug.

 

“No . . . I mean . . . I was joking,” she hurried to explain. “I . . . I've never been to something like this . . . is it like a carnival?”

 

“Sort of, just bigger,” Morio allowed then sighed. “Seriously . . . if you want to do something else, we can. I just thought . . .” he trailed off, shaking his head as a light blush rose to stain his skin. “You're right . . . it's kind of stupid.”

 

“No, no!” she insisted quickly. “It's not stupid, at all! What do we do first?”

 

He broke into a nervous, slightly lopsided grin as his ears twitched nervously. “What do you want to do? There's all sorts of junk food, and—”

 

“Junk food?” she repeated, her eyes sparkling as she considered just what that might mean. Having grown up tucked away on the MacDonnough estate, she had been well enough fed since Ian kept a full time cook in residence, but the aged turtle-youkai woman, Mrs. Kranken was of the old school and believed that junk food was the root of all evil.

 

“Sure . . . ever had cotton candy?”

 

Meara shook her head quickly as Morio's eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his thick fringe of silvery bangs. “No . . .”

 

“Wha-a-at?” he gasped incredulously. “You're kidding . . .”

 

“Nope . . . entirely repressed, huh?” she joked.

 

Morio grasped her hand and dragged her toward a small snack stand situated outside the gift shop. “What color do you want? Pink's pretty good . . . so is blue . . . they're all good; just stay away from the yellow stuff. Banana flavored. Nasty.”

 

She shot Morio a quick glance to see if he was teasing. He didn't look like he was. In fact, the idea of the yellow cotton candy must have really disturbed him since he looked like he was trying to forget the taste of it . . .

 

“Pink looks good,” she ventured, catching his eye and smiling.

 

He nodded. “Good choice. That bag, there,” he said to the woman behind the counter as he pointed up at a bag of pink cotton candy held to a bit of clothesline over head by a clothespin.

 

She fished it down and handed it over as Morio dug some money out of his pocket. “Here,” he said, handing Meara the bag.

 

She eyed it rather dubiously, staring at the fine pink fibers with a critical eye. “And this is candy?”

 

“Yes,” he said with a curt nod. Reaching over to undo the twist tie that secured the opening, he pulled a large glob of the candy from the bag and shoved it all into Meara's mouth without as much as a warning.

 

“Umph!” she complained then giggled as the dry bits melted on her tongue. Eyes widening as she swallowed the syrup left behind, she laughed. “That's good!” she exclaimed softly.

 

He chuckled. “Told you! Here, have some more.”

 

She couldn't help but laugh when he stuffed more of the fluffy candy into her mouth. She could feel the fibers sticking to her lips, to her chin, but she couldn't help it, either. Morio reached into the bag to grab another wad only this time, he aimed for his own mouth. Meara reached over, snagging his wrist and pulling his hand down, eating the candy off of his fingers before he had a chance to feed himself. “Oi!” he complained.

 

“This is mine,” she explained sweetly. “You bought it for me.”

 

Morio rolled his eyes but chuckled. “Fine, fine . . . I'll just get some for myself.”

 

She watched him as he ambled back over to buy another bag of the treat, this time opting to get the blue candy. Popping a huge wad into his mouth as he wandered back, he shot her a saucy grin. “Kami . . . you've almost finished your cotton candy?”

 

Meara shot her nearly empty bag a guilty glance and smiled. “It was good,” she replied, leaning against Morio as she tried to snag a bit of his candy.

 

He pulled his bag away and clucked his tongue. “Forget it, Meara. You ate yours.”

 

“But I want to taste the blue kind!”

 

That earned her a sidelong glance. “It tasted just like yours.”

 

She wrinkled her nose. “Nope . . . you said that the yellow tasted like banana, and the pink didn't, so I want to taste the blue!”

 

Heaving a sigh, he shook his head when she batted her eyes a few times for good measure. “All right,” he agreed, handing her the bag. “I'm such a sucker . . .”

 

Meara took the candy happily and wasted little time in eating it, too. “Ugh, now I'm all sticky,” she complained with a giggle as she pitched the empty bags into a trashcan nearby.

 

He chuckled, leading her over to a water fountain so she could rinse her fingers. “You look like a pup,” he told her. “Oi! Don't get me all sticky, too!”

 

She giggled, smashing her hand against his cheek and laughing harder when his skin stuck to her fingertips. “How's that?”

 

He wrinkled his nose but laughed along with her. “Now that you've had your cotton candy and mine, you want to ride something?”

 

“Ooh! What are those?” she asked, tapping his arm and pointing at another confection stand.

 

Morio turned and narrowed his eyes. “Candy apples . . . let me guess: you want one of those, don't you?”

 

“I've never had a candy apple,” she informed him.

 

“How can you never have had any of this stuff?” he complained but took her hand to led her over to the stand.

 

“The cook never made anything that wasn't completely healthy and boring,” she informed him.

 

Morio quirked an eyebrow but remained silent as he purchased a candy apple for Meara and a caramel-nut apple for himself.

 

“That one looks good, too,” she commented as she turned the apple to find the best place to bite into it.

 

“You're high-maintenance, aren't you?” he teased.

 

Meara blushed but giggled as Morio handed over his apple.

 

It didn't take long for her to finish off both apples, and Morio could only shake his head as he watched her dump the cores into the trash bin, brushing off her hands before turning to look at him once more.

 

“Here,” he said, tearing open a small packet of wet-naps the woman at the apple stand had given him. Meara grimaced but took the cloth and wiped her face and hands. “What next?”

 

He laughed. “Well, we could ride something . . . or we could find something else for you to eat, but keep in mind, I made reservations for lunch . . .”

 

“Reservations? Where?”

 

“You'll see . . . patience is just not one of your virtues, is it?”

 

She had the grace to blush at the remark, but her giggle ruined the show of contrition. “I suppose not.”

 

“I love to hear you laugh,” he mused, stopping short to pin her with a meaningful glance.

 

“You . . . do?”

 

He nodded. “Yes, I do.”

 

A sudden sense of shyness crept over her, and Meara quickly turned away before he saw too much in her eyes. “They have rides here?” she said, racking her brain for something—anything—that could take her mind off of Morio and the unsettling feeling that the earth was spinning out of her control.

 

“Yep . . . not sure you should ride anything after eating all that crap, though,” he remarked dubiously.

 

She rolled her eyes. “I'm fine!” she maintained.

 

“Yeah . . . you say that now, but you'll want me to hold your hair back while you hurl, too,” he predicted.

 

She blushed but laughed. “I won't hurl . . . that's disgusting!”

 

“Hurling happens to the best of us. I have it on very good authority that my uncle, Kichiro ended up praising the porcelain after he rode a few too many rides with Aunt Belle.”

 

“Really? Can't take it?”

 

“Apparently not,” he replied, refusing to rise to the bait. “We could go on the Ferris wheel . . . it's not so bad.”

 

Meara turned to follow the direction of Morio's outstretched hand, craning her neck back as she gazed up at the imposing structure. “That's . . . tall . . .”

 

“Afraid of heights?”

 

She shook her head. “Nope. Bring it on, Izayoi.”

 

He chuckled, catching her hands and pulling her off toward the line for the Ferris wheel. There weren't many people waiting, and the ride was letting people off. Morio chuckled as he held the gate open for Meara and gestured for her to go before him.

 

Slipping onto the bench, she scooted over as Morio climbed in beside her and pulled the bar down until it locked into place. “You're having fun, right?” he asked, eyes sparking in the morning sunshine.

 

“I am,” she admitted as a hint of pink filtered into her cheeks.

 

“You say that like you're surprised,” he ventured.

 

She shook her head, startled for a moment when the carriage they were in ground forward. Grabbing onto Morio's shirt, she leaned closer to him until she realized that they were only being moved a few feet forward so that the attendant could load the next few benches. “S-sorry,” she murmured, cheeks pinking as she swallowed hard and bit her lip.

 

“Don't be,” he told her with an almost bashful sort of smile. “I don't think I minded that . . .”

 

She laughed softly, leaning over to peer down at the ground. “Funny how different things look when you're further off the ground.”

 

He nodded. “I've thought that, myself, a time or two.”

 

Sitting back, she leaned back to look at him, shaking her head as a thoughtful frown surfaced on her face.

 

“What?” he pressed when she didn't volunteer anything.

 

“You don't . . . strike me as a hunter.”

 

He grimaced and shrugged. “Yeah . . . I'm not. Never was.”

 

“But you did it.”

 

“Well, yeah . . . my father . . . he's Sesshoumaru's top hunter . . . always wanted me to be one, too—at least that's what I thought.”

 

“He didn't?”

 

“No . . . I mean, if I'd wanted to do it, then he would have been happy. Thing was, I never wanted to. When the old man figured it out, he was . . . furious. Told me not to try to be something I wasn't, even if I thought it would make him happy.” He heaved a sigh and looked a little abashed as the carriage moved again. “I think that's the only time he's ever really been ticked off at me. Guess he and Mama learned early on that it wasn't good to pretend to be something you weren't.”

 

“And that's what it was? Your hunting? Something you weren't?”

 

“Sounds about right.” He smiled suddenly, slipping his arms around Meara as she leaned forward once more, giggling at the tiny people on the ground so far below. “Careful,” he cautioned.

 

Meara spared a moment to smile at him before leaning even further against the bar holding them in the seat. “You won't let me fall,” she quipped.

 

Morio's smile faltered before returning with a brightness that she didn't see, and he cleared his throat before replying. “You're right, Meara . . . I'd never, ever let you fall . . .”

 

 

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A/N:

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Final Thought fromMeara:

Never let me fall …

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Fairy Tale): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~