InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 2: Defiance ❯ Lily ( Chapter 2 )

The summer night was oppressively balmy, deplorably tainted.  Settling on his skin like a misty fog, rising all around him like a vaporous veil, the damp air molded the emerald green silk shirt to his chest.  In the artificial light cast by the tired-looking streetlamps, he could discern the wavering lines, rising from the overheated pavement as he wandered without a real destination in mind.  The stench of the city surrounded him, an amalgamation of smells that seeped into one underlying dusty, acrid odor.  He felt completely numb, as though the things he’d learned hadn’t had enough time to sink in, and somewhere in the distance, he heard the tolling of a clock . . .

‘Lily . . .’

Toga sighed as he wandered down the sidewalk away from the Vau.  Opting not to catch a cab, he’d been drifting aimlessly for hours.  The last time he checked his watch, it was well after one in the morning.  He had no idea what time it was now, nor did he care.  Hands jammed deep in his trouser pockets, shoulders slumped forward as his hair fell around him like a cloak, lost in thought as he unfurled his youki and relied upon it to keep him safe, questions kept forming in his head, and none of them had any real answers at all.  Why . . .?  How . . .?  When . . .?  It was so long ago, wasn’t it?  It shouldn’t bother him now, and yet . . . He sighed.  Yet it did, didn’t it?  An irrational surge of anger shot through him: anger at her father who had moved her away before Toga had even gotten a chance to figure out exactly how he’d felt about her—anger at himself for giving up on her without really offering any sort of resistance.  He could have written to her.  He could have kept in touch, and now . . .

‘Lily . . .’

A sardonic smile surfaced on his face as he meandered through the streets of downtown Berlin.  He hadn’t expected to see her.  Relegated to more of a passing thought, a vague memory that had faded in his mind to something more akin to mere legend in the confines of his own mind, he had half-hoped that he had been wrong all these years, that she hadn’t been as beautiful as he remembered.  Perhaps she’d been glossed by the passage of time, maybe the memory he had of the school girl had haunted him for what seemed like an eternity . . . If he’d ever really stopped to think about it, he’d have thought that maybe it was just one of those situations where the mind had elevated the recollection in gossamer and white satin.  

But no . . . To see her again, and to have realized that he hadn’t dreamt her up at all, and that she really was just as gorgeous as he remembered—maybe even more so now that her features had been refined by the passage of years: softened and honed without the almost childish curves and roundness of youth . . . ‘Sometimes,’ he thought as his sardonic little smile turned into a grimace, ‘life really sucks wind.’

In the years since she’d moved away, he had thought that she was just gone, he supposed.  What happened to those who faded out of his life?  He made a face.  As vain as anyone else, maybe, if he had to put a reason on it, he supposed that he’d somehow figured that maybe her world had ceased turning.  What was that saying?  He winced.  ‘Out of sight, out of mind,’ he thought it was.  That was exactly what he’d believed, wasn’t it?  ‘Just because they aren’t there anymore doesn’t mean that their lives stop . . . and maybe that sort of arrogance is another gift from my esteemed otou-sama . . .’ To see her now, though . . . to know that she was well and married . . .

What had he truly expected?  Surely, he hadn’t really thought that everything would remain the same?  Toga shuffled along the sidewalk, the sound of his feet scraping against the asphalt completely unremarkable, lost in the combined rumble of a city still wide awake, and he sighed.  No, maybe he hadn’t really thought much about it, at all . . .

‘Water under the bridge, Toga . . . Thinking about her won’t come to any good ends.  She was another life, a different dream, before you figured out that dreams were made to be broken . . . before you figured out that it didn’t really matter, what you might want.  It’s all about duty and honor . . . and if you lose yourself in the end?  It really won’t matter then, so long as you don’t disgrace Sesshoumaru.’

He scowled at the sidewalk under his feet.  ‘Is that right?’

As if his father had any room to cast aspersions.  Toga’s older sister Rin, adopted though she was, was human.  Sesshoumaru’s granddaughters were hanyou, and he doted upon them, just the same.  Yasha-oji-chan himself was a hanyou, and even though the man that his sister, Aiko had chosen was youkai, it wouldn’t have mattered in the least as long as he made her happy.  That he held Toga to such a double standard was, in his opinion, hypocritical at best, an outright dishonor to him, at worst.

“He simply wants to ensure the continuation of the line—the integrity—of the tai-youkai,” Kagura had tried to explain to him.

Toga stared at his mother with an incredulous eye, an unwavering steadiness in his amber gaze.  “Are tou-san’s wishes so important that what I want doesn’t mean a damn thing?”

“You know your father, Toga.  He values tradition.  He only wants what’s best for you, for the family.  You know this.”

He couldn’t contain the side little snort that escaped him.  “What’s best for me?  Shouldn’t that include my happiness?  What does it matter if the woman I find is human, hanyou, or youkai?  Kaa-san . . . you don’t know what he’s asking of me.”

Kagura’s smile was gentle, pleading.  Toga looked away.  “Try to understand.  The families of the pure youkai are few and far between, and, like it or not, he was born—he was raised—in another time and place.  The world . . . Well, it wasn’t the same back then, and he, better than anyone, knows the trials of the life that you’re born to live . . . That’s why it’s so important to tou-chan that you take a youkai mate.”

Toga shook his head, staring across the expansive back yard of the Inutaisho estate.  “Kaa-san . . . I know you love him, and I know he loves you.  Tou-san says I spend too much time with Yasha-oji-chan and Gome-oba-chan . . . Maybe I do, because given the two examples . . . I want what they have.  I want a mate who isn’t afraid to touch my arm, to sit beside me . . . to yell at me, when I tick her off.  I know what I am, and I know what he wants, but I also know what I want, and it is my life, isn’t it?”

The cell phone in his pocket whirred to life, jarring him out of his memories.  He briefly considered ignoring it then grimaced.  The caller ID registered ‘private number’, and he hesitated.  Two people he knew would show up that way.  One was Yasha-oji-chan.  The other?  He sighed.  His father.

“Hello?”

Sniffling greeted his ear.  Toga frowned.  Female, certainly, but who would call him, crying?

“Toga?  I’m sorry if I woke you . . . I found your number in Wildemar’s attaché case . . . Are you . . . busy?”

Stopping abruptly, Toga could feel the air rush out of his lungs, his head spun crazy-wildly at the mere sound of her voice.

“. . . Lily.”

"I almost told Wildemar that I wasn’t feeling well tonight,” Lily said as Toga closed the penthouse door behind her.  “He drags me to these hopelessly boring dinner meetings all the time, you see . . . but you don’t care about that, do you?”

“Can I offer you something to drink?” Toga asked, ignoring Lily’s obvious nervousness, her inane chatter.  Stepping over to the wet bar, Toga poured himself a glass of water and stared pointedly at the woman as he tried to hide his slight smile behind a mask of indifference.  Clad in a pair of black slacks and a billowing black silk blouse with her hair hidden beneath a generous black scarf, he figured all she needed were a pair of oversized black sunglasses to complete the conspicuous ensemble.  In fact, he might even have a pair of them, somewhere around . . . perhaps he ought to lend them to her . . . ‘How very Marilyn . . .’

“Vodka,” she requested.  Toga hid his surprise as he pulled out another glass and sloshed the preferred drink into it.  “Thanks,” she said as he handed her the glass.  He watched as she swallowed half of it before she heaved a heavy sigh.  At least her hands had stopped shaking as she untied the kerchief and dropped it on the coffee table.  Suddenly, she uttered a soft, husky laugh, shook her head as though she didn’t believe just what she was seeing.  “I can’t believe it’s you.”

Sinking into the armchair furthest away from the sofa, Toga offered her a small smile.  “Was there something you wished to see me about?”

Her smile faltered just a little, and she shook her head quickly as she grabbed her things and stood.  “Maybe this was a mistake.”

Shaking his head, he managed a wan smile that was no brighter than hers, and he shrugged apologetically.  “No, stay.  I’m sorry.  I just . . . it’s been a long day.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she did sit back down, and she looked as confused as he felt.  “I’ve wondered how you were; where you were . . . I just never expected . . . You look good.”

Toga shrugged offhandedly.  “You look better.”

Her smile was shy as she ducked her head and giggled softly.  The smile—the laugh . . . He remembered them a little too well . . . “How long are you staying?  In Berlin?”

He shrugged, reining in the desire to kick off his shoes.  “Only until the contract is signed.”

Lily drained the last of her vodka, her smile taking on a sad sort of lilt.  “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t had to move?” she asked quietly, then waved her hand, as though to dispel the question that she felt stupid for voicing out loud.  “I know; I know.  That’s a silly thing to ask, isn’t it?  You can’t live in the past, right?”

Her sadness touched him, tore through his youki with a vicious abandon.  The girl he had known so briefly had somehow changed into such a melancholy creature that hid behind brilliant smiles and designer clothes.  The sorrow in those violet eyes unsettled him, and Toga sighed, willing away the desperate desire to hug her, to hold her, to make things right for her.  “Why did you call me?” he asked instead, forcing his hands to stay glued to the arms of the chair.

She seemed taken aback by his question, and she shook her head, as though she didn’t really know the answer herself.  “I . . . I wanted to see you.  I wanted . . .” trailing off as she blinked quickly and looked away, Toga could smell the salt in her tears before they fell, could hear the pain resonating in her voice.  Then, she sighed.  “I don’t even know what it was that I wanted,” she admitted.  “Maybe I . . .”

“Where’s your husband right now?” Toga heard himself asking before he could think it over or stop himself.

Lily flinched, just for a moment, at the quiet yet very direct reminder.  Her pale cheeks pinked, but she made no move to leave.  “He’s been in bed for a while,” she said.  “Drank a glass of scotch with a couple of sleeping pills.  He’ll be out till morning.”

Toga frowned at the understated bitterness in her tone, and he had to wonder if she even realized it was there at all.  “I see . . .”

She heaved a tumultuous sigh, shook her head, as though she had forgotten that she was even talking out loud.  “The days lately all blur together, you know?  Same thing, different date, I guess, but . . . but then, when I saw you, I . . . I had to convince myself that there are still beautiful things in this world . . . I think I . . . I overlooked them all . . . somehow . . .”

Her sadness seemed to fill the room, or maybe it wasn’t sadness, exactly . . . More like, a sense of poignant realization . . . Regret . . .?

‘Regret, sure, but Toga . . .’

He grimaced inwardly.  ‘Yeah, I know.’

Gritting his teeth as he told himself over and over that she wasn’t his—never had been his.  She was just a memory—a dream, and that was all she ever could be.  “Is it so bad?” he asked gently, before he could remind himself that it was none of his business.

She sniffled and dug into her purse for a tissue, waving away the fine white linen handkerchief Toga offered.  “Not bad so much as . . . pointless.”

He shook his head to indicate that he wasn’t entirely sure what she was saying.

She sighed again and dabbed at her eyes then stared down at the tissue crumpled in her hands, wadding it up then smoothing it out over and over again.  “I married Wildemar because my dad said he’d take care of me.”  She managed a terse laugh: harsh, incredulous.  “Stupid, isn’t it?  It just sounds so stupid; so trite!  I mean, you buy a car because it gets good gas mileage, or you look for a house in a good neighborhood so you’ll be safe . . . you invest in the markets and open retirement accounts so you’ll have security.  You don’t get married to be taken care of, right?”

“I’ve heard of worse reasons,” he murmured, letting his gaze fall to the moisture dripping down the glass of ice water he’d set on the coffee table.

Lily nodded vaguely.  “Don’t misunderstand: he is . . . good to me . . . In fact, he’s probably one of the better husbands out there, but . . .” Trailing off, she sighed again.  Maybe she didn’t know how to put her thoughts into words . . . or maybe she was afraid to do it.  “I’ve never loved him,” she admitted quietly.  “Not . . . ever . . .”

“Lily . . .”

But she shook her head, unwilling to let him try to console her, even if it was with empty words that rang hollow, even to himself.  “I care about him,” she corrected quickly.  “I . . . but I . . . oh, maybe I’ve read one too many cheesy romance stories.”

“Is that really what you believe?”

She stood up, wandering over to the windows, her gaze full of sorrow as she stared out over the lights of the city below.  “They lie, you know,” she said, her voice dropping to a low murmur tinged with a huskiness that bespoke her emotions.  “They make it sound beautiful and wonderful—magical, even, but you know, the reality is that you only find one person in your whole life who makes you feel that way—like . . . like . . . like you could, I don’t know, move mountains or something, and I . . .” she paused, uttering another of those mirthless laughs.  “I let you get away.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so in the end, he didn’t say anything.  What could he say, after all?  There wasn’t much he could add to the conversation without giving away a little too much of his own feelings . . .

“Enough about me,” she suddenly said, spinning away from the window and leaning against the sill, inflicting just enough false cheer into her voice to make him grimace.  “Tell me about you!  I mean, other than working for your . . . for your father, what else is keeping you occupied these days?”

“Just work,” he admitted, unsure exactly what Lily was thinking and hating the fake ebullience that she had affected.

“Just work?” she echoed with a shake of her head.  “Oh, Toga!  Come on!  You’re not really going to tell me that there isn’t a . . . a someone special, right?”

“Uh, no . . . there isn’t,” he replied.  It never occurred to him to mention that he’d been dating Fujiko for quite a while.

Her carefully constructed cheer faltered, and he had the distinct feeling that she was about to cry again.  “I wish there were,” she muttered.  “Toga?”

“Yes?”

Her cheeks pinked as she twisted the thick wedding band on her finger.  “Have you ever wondered . . . you know . . . If . . . If I’d stayed in Japan . . .?”

And that was the thing, wasn’t it?  He’d done nothing but wonder about that since the moment he’d come face to face with her again . . . Toga shook his head and stood, reaching for her glass to refill it as he turned away to hide a wince.  “I wondered . . . a lot.”

His answer didn’t appease her.  With a quiet moan, she pushed herself away from the window and sank down on the sofa once more.  “I don’t know if that was the right answer or not . . .”

“Ask me again, and I’ll lie,” he offered, only half joking.

She managed a half-hearted laugh that dissolved into a sigh.  “I think I’d have been better off to have stayed home tonight.  I think I’d feel like less of a fool.”

Handing her the refilled glass, Toga caught her chin with his index finger.  “You’ve never been a fool.”

Setting the drink on the table untouched, Lily stood and forced a smile.  “I think I should go.”

Letting his hand drop away from her face, Toga nodded once and stepped back as she retrieved her things.  “If it means anything to you, I’m glad you called.”

Lily dug into her purse again and pulled out a yellowed old envelope.  She stared at it for several moments, as though she were trying to make up her mind as to whether or not she wanted to give it to him.  In the end, she held it out, her hand trembling just a little.  “I wrote this to you a long time ago.  I never had the nerve to mail it.  Maybe if I had . . . I was sure you had forgotten me.”

Toga took the letter and let it fall onto the coffee table before he leaned down to kiss her cheek, closing his eyes against the sweet intoxication of her, wildflowers and sandalwood . . . marked by a pathetic human man—a man she didn’t love.  His lips brushed over the soft hollow of her cheek as the smell of her tears cut through him again.  It was the kind of scent that lingered, permeating everything around it until it was almost too much to endure.  How often had she cried over the years?  How many times had she hidden those tears from her husband—the very man she should have loved more than anything else on earth . . .?  “Lily,” he whispered as she turned her head, mouth turning up to touch his.

Unable to think as she pressed closer to him, coherent thought skittering out of his control, her lips tugged at his with a softness, an underlying urgency, a tenacious hold as she wrapped her arms around his neck.  She clung to him with a lethargy that belied the passion in her kiss.  Lips opening to his exploration, a surging desperation broke wide.  Her breathing came as sighs against him, the florid blossoming of a swelling burn.

She relaxed against him as he wrapped his arms around her.  He ignored the tiny voice that whispered in his mind, the voice of reason when everything else faded.  ‘You’re youkai!  You cannot do this!  She is claimed, and you . . .’

But her lips were soft as velvet, her breath a silky balm.  Her body felt so alive in his arms, so aware.  Her tongue pressed against his, stroked his as she sought to deepen the kiss.  Lost in a wildfire haze, Toga couldn’t think, could only feel, could only react.  Her hands rubbed against his shirt, he growled in answer to her sighs.

Her desperation seared him; the stroke of her lips against his both comforting and torturing.  He’d dreamed about her for so long, wondering where she was; what she was doing . . . but the whimsy of fantasy felt off-kilter, askew.  The nagging thought in the back of his mind just wouldn’t let go.  ‘It’s . . . wrong . . .’

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to push her away.  The scent of her tears mingled with the deepening scent of her essence.  Her hands tugged at his hair, the pressure of her lips strong, hot, demanding.  She pressed her body against his, seeking a closeness that she seemed to crave.  “Just tonight, Toga?” Lily murmured between kisses.

Toga’s back stiffened and he stepped back as her words brought everything right back into painful focus once more.  Shaking his head slowly, hand shaking as he straightened his collar, he cleared his throat before he could trust his voice.  “I can’t, Lily,” he said quietly, sadly.  “There’s no such thing as ‘just tonight’, not for me.”

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes brightening with the sheen of tears that lie just below the surface.  Unable to do much more than nod, she tried to smile as she blinked to stave back the moisture, and Toga steeled himself against the bitter wash of recrimination that was colored the same shade of violet as her eyes.

After one last, long look, she stepped away from him, retrieving her things off the coffee table again, taking an inordinate amount of time as she carefully donned the kerchief and started for the door.

He watched her go without another word.  She paused in the open doorway and looked as though she wanted to say something.  In the end, she nodded and left, pulling the door closed behind herself so quietly, and just like that, she slipped out of his life for the second time.

Toga stared at after her for long minutes as he tried to tell himself that he’d done the right thing.  ‘There’s no such thing as ‘one night’, not to a youkai.’  Through the years, he’d been told countless times by both his father as well as his uncle, and his mother and aunt, as well.  ‘Youkai mate for life, Toga, so you’d better be sure . . .’

He sighed as he kicked off his shoes, unbuttoned his shirt.  Physical intimacy was one thing.  That he could handle without laying a claim, without inadvertently marking a bitch.  Oral sex was an option.  Physical satisfaction without the risk of accidental repercussions . . . Something about Lily, though . . . Toga closed his eyes, let his head fall back.  He’d be better off to never lay eyes on her again.

Letting his head fall forward, Toga rubbed his neck with a grimace.  Eyes falling on the old envelope Lily had given him, he frowned as he picked it up off the table, turning it over in his nimble fingers.  

Sealed so long ago that the glue gave with a soft snap, Toga pulled the piece of paper out and carefully unfolded it.

Toga crumpled the letter and tossed it onto the coffee table as anger darkened his eyes to a deeper amber, an irate hue.

Grabbing the cell phone before he could think about it, Toga hit speed dial and let the phone ring.  “Inutaisho.”

“Otou-sama.”

“Toga.  I trust you closed the deal?”

Loosening his grip when the plastic device groaned ominously, Toga stalked the length of the room and back again, unable to shake the growing desire to smash something—anything.  “What the fuck did you do?”

“Come again?”

“You paid Lily’s family to move away?  Who the hell do you think you are?”

Sesshoumaru didn’t answer right away.  The fading voices in the background told Toga that his father was very likely heading toward his study to have this conversation in private.  Toga cracked his knuckles.  “I am your father, Toga.  I owe you no explanations.”

“The hell you don’t.  What the . . .?  Do me a favor and stay the fuck out of my life.”

“Toga, we’ll discuss this when you return home.”

“Keh!” he scoffed, raking a hand through his hair as he paced.  “I don’t think we will.”

Hanging up on Sesshoumaru, Toga had to tamp down the desire to rip something to shreds.  He drew a deep breath.  It didn’t help.  ‘Home,’ he thought with a decisive snort.  ‘Home?  The hell . . .’

He couldn’t go home.  He couldn’t deal with his father, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of biting back his irritation with Sesshoumaru’s heavy-handedness.  Toga hit another number in his speed dial, prowling the floor as he fought to calm his nerves.

“Hello?  Yes, I’d like to book a flight . . . New York City.”

Toga rubbed his forehead as he tried to make the pounding in his skull go away.  “Yes, fine . . . No, I’ll pay for it when I get there.  Name?  To—Thomas.  Thomas Masume.  Thank you.”

One last call before he had to go . . . Toga hit the first number on his speed-dial.

“Izayoi.”

“Yasha-oji-chan?”

“Toga?”

Toga grinned despite his irritation.  “Who else calls you Yasha-oji-chan?”

“Don’t be a smart ass.  Aren’t you supposed to be in Germany trying to evade that bastard of a brother of mine?”

“Yeah, well . . . I wanted to ask a favor of you . . .”

“All right, pup.”

Toga made a face.  He supposed it didn’t matter how old he was, to some people in his life, he’d still be tiny Toga . . . “Could you tell kaa-san that I’m fine, and that I’ll . . .  uh, I’ll call her?”

InuYasha didn’t answer right away.  Toga could clearly see his uncle, standing on the patio of his house in the forest, arms crossed over his chest as he frowned at the receiver, trying to figure out just what Toga was up to.  “Something happen I should know about?”

Toga winced.  “Not really . . . Just sick of certain people, thinking they can meddle in my life . . . You’ll tell kaa-san?”

InuYasha sighed.  “This is really gonna piss your old man off, pup.”

He snorted, stalking into the bedroom and yanking his suitcase off the floor beside the dresser and tossing the lid back.  “Good, I won’t be the only one pissed off, then,” he retorted, dragging an armload of clothes out of the closet and smashing them into the suitcase.

“Promise me you’ll call if you need anything—and I mean anything, Toga.”

“I will.  Thanks . . . Give my love to Gome-oba-chan.”

“You bet.”

The phone went dead, and Toga stifled a sigh.  Hanging up the phone, he stared at it for a moment before dropping it onto the table.  He had an hour before he had to be at the airport, and that device . . . He wouldn’t need it anymore.  Every number on that could be traced, and why not?  It all went back to his father’s accountant, didn’t it?  Good thing Toga had accounts of his own, money he’d made by working for his father.  He’d never had to use it.

He would now.

Digging through his wallet to drop every last credit card funded by Inutaisho Sesshoumaru onto the cell phone, Toga smiled just a little, but it was a smile as full of bitterness, as devoid of humor, as it was possible to be.  A lifetime of the same thing, over and over again, only this time—this time . . .

‘It matters a hell of a lot more this time.’

Toga gritted his teeth.  Yeah.  Yeah, this time, it really did . . .

His father had fucked around in his life for the very last time.