InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ A Purity Short: The Fairy Tale ❯ Twenty-Four Hours ( Chapter 5 )

~~Chapter Five~~

~Twenty-Four Hours~

 

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:University of Edinburgh:

:Saturday, August 30, 2059:

:3:50 p.m.:

 

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`Her hands are so small,' Morio mused as he led Meara through the tree-lined path that meandered through the park. She was looking around with a smile on her face and a brilliance in her gaze that pleased him.

 

She'd been smiling all day, truth to tell. All his work had really paid off, and he couldn't help but be quite relieved since he'd worried that one date wouldn't be nearly enough to convince her that they were meant for one another.

 

He'd spent all night running around and setting things up. He'd gotten to the amusement park just before it closed; bought a ticket just so he could go inside and rent a locker where he stashed the clothes he'd need for the second half of their date. She'd giggled at him when he'd retrieved his clothes and headed off to change while she did the same—he had run back out to the car to grab her bag, and despite her protests, he'd whisked her away to the Edinburgh Skyplex where they were setting up a special exhibit of Cain Zelig's most famous works. She'd told him that she hadn't been able to get tickets to the ultra-exclusive event as he'd led her into the building, and she'd apparently forgotten just who Cain Zelig was married to. He'd called and asked Cain to give Meara a tour around the exhibit, and though Cain wasn't staying for the actual event, he said that he'd been more than happy to meet with Morio and Meara, and Gin . . . well, Aunt Gin had been every excited to meet Meara since she'd heard so much about her over the last three years.

 

After the tour, Morio had taken the four of them to lunch at the Skyporium—a very trendy restaurant at the top of the Skyplex building, and Morio had spent much of the meal simply watching as Meara, Gin, and Cain discussed art with a conviction that Morio appreciated. Now they were killing some time until the jazz concert in the park and enjoying a simple afternoon of quiet before the big event, having said goodbye to Cain and Gin at the restaurant. The city was hosting an end of summer festival in the park though most of the festivities were being held on the other side of the area, leaving Meara and Morio alone in relative peace as they strolled along the flagstone path.

 

“You're amazing,” Meara murmured, squeezing Morio's hand gently.

 

Caught off guard by the softly uttered praise, Morio shot her a quick glance and an uncertain little grin. “You think so?”

 

She giggled, hooking a strand of chestnut hair and slipping it behind her ear. “I think so,” she said. “Are you sure you haven't had this date planned all along?”

 

He grimaced. “Actually . . . no.”

 

“No?”

 

“Nope . . . didn't figure you'd actually accept my bargain,” he admitted with a shrug.

 

She sighed. “I see . . .”

 

“I was hoping that your art books weren't just a fluke,” he hurried on, unwilling to let her say anything that might ruin the companionable moment.

 

“My art books?”

 

He nodded. “Well, yeah . . . you got one at the library the first time I met you, and I noticed last night that you have quite a few of them on your shelf . . .”

 

“Well, I am majoring in art theory and education,” she pointed out.

 

“There's that, too,” he agreed.

 

She laughed. “I guess I never thought to ask . . . what are you studying?”

 

He shot her a cheesy smile. “Automotive design.”

 

She did a double take and barked out an incredulous laugh. “You're serious? You want to draw cars?”

 

“Yes. Yes, I do . . . I wanted to be a mechanic, but my father said that it was women's work.”

 

“Come again?”

 

Morio chuckled. “Mama's a mechanic.”

 

Meara shook her head though her smile widened. “Your mother is a mechanic,” she repeated. “You have a quite interesting family, Morio Izayoi.”

 

“`Course I do.”

 

She laughed suddenly, pulling her hand away and stopping as she lifted both her hands to cover her mouth.

 

“It's not that funny,” he mused as he stopped to watch her.

 

“No, no, you're right. I'm sorry . . .” she said between bouts of laughter. “I just imagined my mum all covered with grease mucking about in my da's cars . . .”

 

“Can't see it happening?” he teased.

 

She giggled harder. “Och, mon! No.”

 

That caught Morio by surprise. Meara had always spoken so carefully before. He'd never heard her slip into a real Scottish brogue before. “Why don't you sound like that all the time?” he asked.

 

Meara blinked and shook her head before laughing softly once more. “I was sent to private school in Sheffield,” she told him. “The girls . . . they teased me because my brogue was so thick . . . I suppose I learned to hide it.”

 

“I like it,” he told her.

 

Her cheeks pinked though her smile didn't fade, and she slowly shook her head. “I like your accent, too.”

 

“Accent? I have an accent?” Morio drawled.

 

Meara nodded as she slipped her hand into his again, and the two started walking once more.

 

“Look sharp! He's gone and done it!” a guy Morio recognized from a couple of his classes said to a friend he was with. “She actually gave a scruffy mutt like you the time of day?” he called out.

 

Morio grinned and nodded. “Absolutely . . . I told you it was just a matter of time.”

 

“You're impossible,” she said with a slow shake of her head.

 

Morio shrugged. “Can I help it that everyone knows that I've been head over heels for you . . . forever?”

 

With a sigh, she shook her head though her smile didn't disappear. “Incorrigible.”

 

“Completely.” Spotting an ice cream cart near the central fountain in the park, Morio quickened his pace, dragging Meara along behind him. “Dessert!” he insisted.

 

She laughed but allowed him to lead her off, standing patiently while he bought vanilla cones for both of them.

 

“Here,” he said, handing her a cone.

 

She took it with an endearing little smile. “So what's next?” she asked, the tip of her pink tongue darting out to catch the melting ice cream.

 

“Nothing for awhile,” he admitted. “Figured you might like a little quiet time.”

 

“Don't tell me the date's almost over,” she teased.

 

Morio snorted. “Keh! As if!”

 

She nodded. “Good,” she murmured, her cheeks pinking prettily as she shot him an almost timid glance out of the corner of her eye.

 

“Having fun, are you?”

 

Her blush deepened, and she shrugged just a little before turning her complete attention on her ice cream cone. “This is good.”

 

“Is it?”

 

She nodded. “Thank you . . . today's been . . . amazing.”

 

He grimaced, unable to ignore the hint of sadness in her tone. “I told you: it's not over yet.”

 

“You just don't do anything in short order, do you?”

 

Tossing the last of his cone into a nearby trashcan, Morio made a face at his sticky fingers and glanced around for somewhere to wash off his hands. “Not when it comes to you,” he assured her.

 

“What are you doing?” she demanded as he strode over to the fountain. He spared a moment to grin back at her before swishing his hands in the cool water pooling in the basin beneath the statue of a hundred fairies flitting about a hulking stone tree. “Getting into the fountain?” she teased.

 

Morio pivoted on the balls of his feet and flicked water at Meara. She hopped back with a little squeal, clutching her ice cream cone tightly. “Just wait, you,” she vowed, popping the last of her cone into her mouth before carefully skirting around the fountain to use the other side to rinse off her fingers. Morio scooted toward her. She shot him a sidelong glance and flicked her wrist, sending a small wave surging over his hands. He returned the favor, and she did, too. By the time they were done, their arms were drenched, and Morio held up his hands in mock surrender. “You win,” he told her with a chuckle.

 

She stood up, shaking her hands since they didn't have anything to dry off with. Morio did the same, staring at her, watching the way the sun reflected off the water and pooled in the depths of her eyes. “You're beautiful, did you know . . .?” he said quietly, unable to look away from her.

 

“A-am I?”

 

He nodded, curling his fingers, lifting his knuckles to brush over her cheek. She seemed startled by the intimacy of his touch but didn't shy away. Her skin was downy soft despite the dampness still clinging to his fingers, and he couldn't help but smile at the way her lips parted only to close for a moment as she swallowed hard, nostrils quivering as her ragged breathing brushed over his wrist, condensing on his skin . . . “Beautiful,” he whispered once more.

 

She caught his arm and held on. He could see it in her gaze: she wanted him to kiss her, and as much as he wanted to oblige her, he didn't want to scare her, either. Sighing softly as he forced himself to let his hand fall away from her, he cleared his throat and stepped back. “Come on . . . let's see what else we can find to do.”

 

She sighed, too, but slipped her hand into his as they started walking once more. Morio smiled. Being with Meara was perfect, wasn't it? Everything he'd ever hoped for . . . everything he'd ever dreamed . . . she was right there with him, and with any luck, he'd be able to convince her in the end . . .

 

 

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“You shouldn't do that,” Meara said, eyeing the water balloon in Morio's outstretched hand rather nervously. Sitting on the wall of the short stone bridge that extended over the footpath below, they let their legs dangle off the side, watching the pedestrians pass beneath them as Morio purposefully shook his hand. She leaned forward, steadied his arm, shaking her head despite the giggle that escaped her.

 

He'd purchased the balloons from some children who were having a water war near the swings. Meara had eyed him dubiously, holding her hands up as she backed away from him.

 

“You wouldn't . . .” she said slowly, her expression stating that she wasn't certain whether she believed he would or not.

 

“Of course I wouldn't,” he allowed then cocked an eyebrow as he hefted one balloon in the palm of his hand. “Then again . . . white dress and water . . .? You don't still have that bikini on, by any chance?”

 

She'd laughed and blushed, shaking her head. “I took that off,” she assured him. “So you can't . . .”

 

He sighed, ears drooping in abject defeat. She clucked her tongue and stepped over to him, pushing his ears back into place with a soft giggle . . .

 

“Look . . . that guy looks hot, don't you think?” Morio muttered, leaning toward Meara as he tipped his hand to the side, almost dropping the balloon but not quite.

 

She reached out and snagged the balloon out of his hand. “Oh, no . . . you'll get us in trouble!”

 

Grabbing the last two balloons, Morio eyed them for a moment before hefting them up in front of his chest. “So what do you think? B-cup, at least . . .”

 

She giggled, grabbing one of the balloons and giving it a little squeeze. “I don't know . . . I'd say a C-cup . . .”

 

“Meara!” he gasped, jerking away from her grasp. “I'm shocked!”

 

Her giggles escalated into a full-blown laugh. “Well, you did ask.”

 

“Yeah, I did,” he agreed, tossing one balloon in the air. It bounced off his palm and bobbled precariously before slipping off the side of his hand and crashing down onto the empty path below. “Oops . . .”

 

Meara squeaked and bit her lip as she craned her neck, staring down at the splatter of water where the balloon had impacted on the path. “You're lucky no one was walking through right then,” she pointed out.

 

He grinned. “It was an accident!”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, it was.”

 

“Hmm,” he deliberated, taking the last of his balloons and holding it by the tied end, dangling it over the pathway. “Hope it doesn't slip . . .”

 

“You're the one who'll be in trouble if it does,” she chided.

 

“I'll blame it on you,” he shot back.

 

“You wouldn't!”

 

“Try me.”

 

A tall young man and his date emerged from the tunnel and stopped in the middle of the pathway to indulge in a kiss. Morio rolled his eyes and snorted. “Keh! Public displays of affection should be banned,” he told Meara as he let go of the balloon. The two moved away just in time to avoid being hit dead-on with the projectile. Meara smashed her hand over her mouth to suppress her giggles as Morio heaved a dejected sigh for having missed the intended targets.

 

“Morio!” she gasped.

 

He snorted again. “They didn't even notice!” he fumed then shook his head slowly. “Aww, damn it . . . it's up to you, Meara. You can hit `em, right? Make me proud?”

 

“No, way!” she argued, cradling the last remaining balloon in her hands. “You're a bad egg, Morio Izayoi. I'll bet you used to make little girls cry, too.”

 

“Nah . . . well, maybe . . . just my cousin, Bitty-Belle . . .”

 

“Beast.”

 

He laughed outright at her teasing tone. Reaching over quickly, he knocked the bottom of her hands. The balloon bobbled and slipped out of her grasp. Morio's eyes widened as the balloon exploded on a man's head. “Shit! You hit him!” Morio exclaimed, swinging his feet around to the other side of the wall and hopping down as he reached over and plucked Meara off the wall behind him. Digging into his pocket for a wad of cash, he tossed it over the ledge. “Sorry! Here . . . for dry cleaning!” he hollered as he grabbed Meara's hand and ran, unable to control his laughter at the mingled expression of shock and amusement on the girl's face.

 

They ran for five minutes before Meara pulled her hand away and stopped, leaning back against a gnarled old oak tree, doubled over as gales of laughter spilled out of her like an invisible waterfall. Morio stopped, too, chuckling softly as he slowly turned around to face her. She was flushed, though whether it stemmed from embarrassment or because she laughing so hard, he wasn't certain.

 

Ambling toward her, hands stuffed into his pockets, he shook his head and smiled. “You're bad, Meara,” he pointed out.

 

“Me? You're the one who hit my hands!”

 

“Maybe . . . then you're clumsy; is that what you're trying to say?”

 

Her laughter died away but her smile didn't as she reached up to pull a leaf out of his hair. “You're evil . . . wicked . . . a horrible influence on me,” she teased.

 

Pulling his hands from his pockets, he leaned on the tree, arms extended one either side of Meara's head. She leaned back, her hands behind her as the amusement in her gaze dissipated only to be replaced by something far headier . . . far more intriguing. “You're shaking,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips grazed her ear. “You can't possibly be cold . . .”

 

“C-cold . . .?”

 

He nodded, his hair falling over his shoulder, brushing against her cheek, against the bare curve of her throat: his silver strands enmeshed with her deep brown locks. The contrast was startling and somehow comforting, and Morio closed his eyes, breathing in her scent, letting her aura overwhelm him.

 

`Kami, I . . . I want to . . . kiss her . . .'

 

His youkai blood sighed and uttered a wizened little whine. `Yeah, but . . .'

 

`I know; I know . . . I'll scare her off if I do . . .'

 

With a heavy sigh, he drew in one last, deep breath and pushed himself away from the tree. It took several seconds for him to gather his scattering wits. “We'd better get moving,” he said, his voice oddly husky in his own ears.

 

Meara looked completely dazed, and she had to blink a few times to clear her vision. Her cheeks pinked again as she stood up straight, her gaze narrowing as she stared at him with an expression fairly close to consternation writ in the depths of her smoky gray eyes.

 

Pretending not to see the unvoiced questions, he took her hand and pulled her along toward their next destination.

 

He'd be a nice guy—a gallant man—even if it killed him, he vowed.

 

Glancing back over his shoulder, he grimaced when he noticed the confusion contorting Meara's brow as she stared down at the path they were walking on, and Morio sighed.

 

`Sometimes,' he thought sourly with an inward scowl, `being a gentleman really, really sucks; damned if it doesn't . . .'

 

 

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Meara stood back and waited patiently while Morio narrowed his gaze, counting the trees carefully before grabbing her hand and striding toward the fourth one in the wide circle. “What are you doing?” she asked when he didn't volunteer any information.

 

“Wait here,” he said, letting go of her hand and wandering over to the base of the tree as he tipped his head back to peer up through the network of branches. Spotting the bright blue ice chest he'd left up there in the night, he glanced around to make sure that they were hidden well enough and since people were starting to filter into the makeshift amphitheater portion of the park.

 

It didn't take long for him to retrieve the cooler and drop back down to the ground. Meara smiled, shaking her head as he opened the it and handed her the cream colored rose that rested on top of everything in the cooler. With a wolfish grin, he shook out the blanket that lay over the rest of the contents in the chest. “Not a fancy table or anything,” he remarked. “Hope you don't mind.”

 

“This is where we're eating?” she questioned with an arched eyebrow.

 

He nodded as he knelt down to pull packages of plastic covered hunks out of the chest along with two crusty loaves of bread and a bottle of wine. “Sit down?” he offered, holding out a hand to her.

 

She regarded him for a long moment before sinking onto the blanket beside him. The hunks of plastic covered stuff were various cheeses, and he shot her a grin as he pulled a deep red apple from the chest and cut it into slices with his claws. “Light dinner, I guess,” he remarked. “If you're still hungry after the concert, I'm sure I can find something open . . .”

 

“I like light meals,” she replied, taking a slice of apple from his juice-drenched fingers. “You thought of everything, didn't you?”

 

Blushing slightly at the quiet wonder in her tone, Morio took his time slicing off a hunk of baby Swiss cheese to offer her.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“You know, wine . . . cheese . . . fruit . . . it's nothing to sneeze at, I suppose.”

 

Meara nodded and giggled as he fished two plastic wine cups out of the cooler, snapping the cup to the stem base with a flourish. She took one of the glasses and waited while he opened the bottle of wine and poured some for her. “Plastic wine glasses? I like these.”

 

“You should,” he rejoined. “It took me forever to find them . . . who'd have thought that plastic wine glasses were uncommon?”

 

She ate in silence as the early evening breeze ruffled her hair, and whenever Morio caught her staring at him, she smiled. The pink color dusting her nose didn't abate, and as the first shadows fell and lengthened, he had to force back the sudden stab of melancholy that crept up his spine. The band started to assemble down on the stage, tuning their instruments as more people filtered into the clearing. Most were heading for the risers that lined the perimeter of the stage, but a few had brought blankets and were sitting further back, just as Morio and Meara were doing. They didn't draw any notice, though, half-enclosed by the trees behind them. All in all, it was the perfect spot: one that Morio had painstakingly chosen the night before . . .

 

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, frowning slightly at the solemn look on her face as she thoroughly chewed a bite of apple.

 

“What's that?”

 

He shrugged. “Blame my cousin. He's from the States. Taught me some killer slang, though.”

 

She laughed, but the sound of it was slightly hollow, and the humor in the gesture didn't reach her gaze. “You've been all over the world, haven't you? I . . . I've never been out of Great Britain . . .”

 

“Really?”

 

She shook her head. “No . . . sad, isn't it?”

 

“I wouldn't have said that.”

 

“What would you have said?”

 

Dropping his empty wine cup into the cooler, he leaned back on his elbows and smiled absently as the first stars of the night twinkled high overhead. “Sounds like your father was protective . . . that's a good thing. If I had a daughter, I'd be that way, too.”

 

Meara sighed, tossing her wine cup over Morio into the cooler and hooked her hands around her ankles. “It wasn't like that, you ken? Da . . . He didn't shelter me out of love . . . I'm a commodity. The arrangement with Paul should be evidence enough of that.”

 

“Tell Paul to kiss your ass. You don't belong with him.”

 

She sighed again, letting her chin fall onto her raised knees as the band launched into their first number. “This isn't really a date, mind,” she said.

 

“Oh?” he contended, rolling onto his side and pinning her with a vaguely amused stare to let her know that he was quite aware that she was trying to change the topic.

 

“Quite so,” she went on with a curt nod as she let go of her ankles and curled her feet to the side.

 

“What would you call it, then?”

 

Even in the falling darkness as the pale light from the lamp posts lining the aisles in the amphitheater below, he could discern the tell-tale blush that heated her cheeks as her eyes skittered to the side and she smiled a self-conscious little smile. “Well, I don't know, but one should kiss one's date, shouldn't he?”

 

“Oh . . . really . . .”

 

She nodded. “Absolutely, and you . . . you haven't tried; not once, so I can barely credit this as a date, wouldn't you agree?”

 

Morio cleared his throat as the blood in his veins burned hot. All he really wanted to do was to reach for her, and yet he was almost afraid to do that, too. After so long, dreaming of her, of trying to get her to give him a chance . . . if he blew it now, he'd lose her forever, and in his heart, he knew it. Sitting up slowly, he stole a surreptitious glance at her. She was sitting with her hands clasped neatly in her lap, gnawing on her lower lip as though she were trying to make up her mind about something. “I've never had a kiss before,” she admitted, her voice a throaty whisper. “Not a real one, anyway . . . Not one that counted . . . not from someone . . . someone I wanted to kiss . . .”

 

And he was done. Reaching out slowly, carefully, slipping his hand around her neck, he drew her forward, lowered his face as she turned to meet him. The softness of her lips gave to the gentle crush of his, and he felt the entirety of his world swell and shatter. The tender caress as her mouth lingered against his set off a yearning in his soul so deep, so necessary that he wondered if he'd crumble to dust if she turned him away.

 

The sweetness of the wine on her lips tempered the raging ache that burned inside him. Slowly, hesitantly, she slipped her hands up his chest, around his neck, fingers sinking deep in the strands of his hair. The timid nature behind her actions silently spoke to his desire to protect her, and he uttered a soft growl as the kiss broke away, falling between them like a feather, like the gentle waves of the ocean lapping against the shore . . .

 

She leaned against him, nudging her head under his chin, her fist curling around the cloth of his shirt. Her body tensed as he slipped his arms around her, as he pulled her close. The first of her tears struck his nose, drew a grimace from him as he stroked her back, as he broke into the soft rumble meant to offer her some modicum of solace.

 

“Meara . . . I didn't . . . you're not supposed to cry,” he whispered.

 

“It's not fair, is it?” she breathed, her voice full of unrepressed anger as she clenched her fist tighter, as she held onto him with a ferocity that he didn't fully understand. “Why did you do this?” she asked, leaning away, her eyes sparkling with the wash of unchecked tears. “Why do you have to be . . . everything?”

 

He sighed, holding onto her as she buried her face against his chest once more. “Meara . . .”

 

“You don't understand, do you? No matter how much I've enjoyed myself today—no matter how much I wish . . .” trailing off with a sigh, she shook her head; closed her eyes. “It doesn't change a thing. I still have to tell you that I can't see you again, and you . . . you promised . . .”

 

Swallowing the bitter lump that threatened to block his throat, Morio nodded. “I promised,” he forced himself to say, unable to summon the conviction to be angry with her for it all. Maybe it was the understanding that she hated having to say it as much as he hated having to hear it. Maybe it was the bittersweet knowledge that she cared more than she had ever wanted to admit. Maybe it was the complete sense of hopelessness that was quickly flooding over him.

 

Maybe it was her tears.

 

“I . . . I should go,” she said suddenly, choking back her tears as she pulled away from him and stumbled to her feet. “I'm sorry, Morio . . . I'm so sorry . . .”

 

“Meara, wait,” he called, his voice louder than he'd intended as he caught her hand and held on. “Don't go.”

 

“But—”

 

“You promised me a date. Well . . . the date's not over . . . not yet.”

 

She stood there for agonizing moments, her conflicting desires waging their silent war in her head. Choking out a harsh little laugh, she sank to her knees beside him, smiling at him through the tears that coursed down her cheeks. He reached out to wipe them away as she cupped his face in her hands. “You'll be the death of me, Morio Izayoi,” she stated.

 

He smiled at her cryptic words and nodded. “And you'll be the life of me, Meara MacDonnough . . . I promise.”

 

 

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A/N:

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Final Thought fromMorio:

So she does care …

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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~