InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 2: Defiance ❯ Strengths and Weakness ( Chapter 4 )

"Any word?"

Sesshoumaru dragged his wire-rimmed glasses off his face and dropped them onto the desk with a loud sigh as he sank back in his chair and lifted his gaze to meet that of his mate.  "Nothing—yet, anyway.”

"Can’t you bend on this?”

Golden gaze taking on an obstinate light, Sesshoumaru didn’t even blink.  "No, I cannot.”

"Cannot or will not?” she asked quietly, pointedly.

He uttered a terse grunt.  "Take your pick, Kagura.”

She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest in a blatant display of her own kind of stubbornness.  "I know why you feel the way you do, but Toga doesn’t.  He never has, and you can’t really blame him, can you?  He’s been surrounded by humans and hanyou since he was a child.  Do you expect him to understand the significance you place on this, as cynical as it may be, when he’s never lived with the things you’ve seen?”

"I expect him to listen to me,” Sesshoumaru countered.  "I expect him to listen to reason.”

"All he knows are the things that he was raised believing,” she reminded him.  "He’s had examples—the best examples—of what relationships are, what they’re meant to be, and you cannot—cannot—dictate his life and the choices he makes.”

"I blame this on that baka brother of mine,” Sesshoumaru stated flatly.  "If InuYasha had behaved in a more natural fashion—”

Rolling her eyes, she rubbed her temple and wondered just how long it’d been since she’d last dragged out her wind fans . . . "You’re grasping at straws, Sesshoumaru.  InuYasha and Kagome aren’t to blame for any of this.  Look at the life that boy has lived!  Doted upon, cosseted . . . and then, to find that female youkai are nothing like what he’s come to know . . . And then . . . Let me remind you, at that time, I told you not to offer that girl’s father money to disappear.  I warned you that Toga would find out one day, and that he wouldn’t thank you for it, and you—”

"I did what was necessary to do,” he maintained mulishly.

Kagura sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at her mate as though she thought he might be losing his mind.  "Sesshoumaru, Toga has always done the right thing.  He’s always been your son, your pride and joy . . . Did you honestly expect him to roll over and take this indignity from you, of all people?”

"Whose side are you on?”

"Why must I take sides?” she refuted, magenta eyes flashing with irritation.  "I see your point.  You wish to uphold the family, the tradition, the youkai lineage.  I also see his side.  He wants what anyone his age wants.  He wants love.  Sesshoumaru . . . some things are more important than tradition, than heritage.  Try to see his point.  He feels as though you’ve betrayed him, and honestly . . . I don’t blame him for feeling that way.”

Sesshoumaru sighed and slowly shook his head. "You know as well as I that those are not the only reasons.  There is so much more to consider when it comes to the idea of taking a mate, especially for one like Toga, and you know this, too.  I cannot bend on this, Kagura.  I cannot yield to his whims.  Toga must know his place, his duty.  He will be tai-youkai.  It cannot be avoided.”

Kagura sighed in complete exasperation and strode toward the door.  "Well, perhaps being right will make you happy when your son chooses not to come back.  In case you forgot, Sesshoumaru, Toga is a grown man.  He doesn’t have to listen to you, and he doesn’t have to bend to you dictates.”

"Toga will do what is necessary,” Sesshoumaru stated, as though it were a foregone conclusion.

Kagura stared at him, the disbelief at his almost cavalier attitude, very apparent.  "You underestimate him in so, so many ways,” she countered quietly—dangerously quietly.  "Don’t be so arrogant that you cannot see that he has had enough.”

Sesshoumaru didn’t respond to that, but he did shift his gaze, pinning his mate with a challenging kind of look, as though he were daring her to gainsay his very edicts.

She left him alone then, lost in silent contemplation in the quiet of the study, choosing to walk away before she said anything that she might later regret.  Instead, Kagura shook her head and headed for the kitchen to busy herself with something else before she marched right back into the study and picked up the proverbial gauntlet that her mate had just tossed down at her feet.  `Be safe, Toga, and come home soon . . .’

Setting aside the manila folder with a heavy sigh, Toga stood up and stretched, then tossed his pen down on the file as he tugged off his glasses, dropping them beside the pen with a dull rattle.  He’d accepted the best job offer he’d received from a company that he hadn’t actually meant to apply to, but the CEO of the place was friends with one of the higher-ups at another place where he’d interviewed, and he’d called to offer Toga a job with excellent pay and benefits, and it turned out to be the one offer that he would have been a fool to pass on.

It was not enough that he had five merger propositions to look over before Monday’s morning meeting, but he had somehow managed to get suckered into a benefit gala tomorrow evening, as well, which was something he really, desperately, wished to avoid.  Instead of researching the pros and cons of the submitted offers, he’d be bored out of his mind at a stupid, stuffy soiree that would probably make his father’s stoic gatherings of business acquaintances look like slap-happy great times . . .

`Pathetic, Inutaisho.  Truly pathetic . . .’ he thought with a grimace as he stared out his apartment window.  `Home with work on a Friday night . . .’

Checking his watch, Toga figured he might as well get something to eat.  Boring as it seemed, his life was just not nearly as glamorous as he had thought it would be . . . Back home he’d probably be beating on his brainless cousins or even devising new and different ways to pick on his sister . . . Or he’d be taking Fujiko to the movies or dinner and the theatre . . . He made a face, thinking about the youkai bitch.  That wasn’t entirely fair, was it?  After all, he hadn’t disliked spending time with Fujiko.  No, it was more that, in the years that he’d steadily dated her, he couldn’t rightfully recall even one instance that truly stood out in his mind.  ‘Apathetic’ was a good word to describe their relationship.  Another good word would be ‘boring’, despite the idea that it sounded entirely cruel . . . `All right.  So maybe this is preferable to that . . .’

Glancing at the files once more, he sighed and strode over to slip on his shoes near the door.  He supposed he was hungry enough to warrant a little break, so, he headed out the door before he could talk himself out of it, pausing long enough to lock his apartment before loping down the three flights of stairs to the lobby and then, out to the street below.

Wrinkling his nose at the smoggy air as he stepped onto the sidewalk, hands jammed into his jeans pockets as he slumped his shoulders forward, head lowered as he wandered down the street.

`Almost a month,’ he thought as he shuffled along the pavement. It’d been nearly a month since he’d met Sierra. As much as he didn’t want to think about her, he couldn’t seem to help himself, either.  During those quiet nights that were so still that he could hear himself blink, he’d thought about her a hell of a lot—probably more than he should have.

It didn’t make sense, did it?  Why would a girl that he barely knew invade every moment of his thoughts?  He knew precious little about her, to be fair, and it wasn’t really as though they’d had the best of meetings, in the first place, which was putting a nicer face on it than he probably ought to.  Even so, he couldn’t shake that feeling, that strange and unsettling feeling . . . That feeling . . .

‘Like you know her,’ his youkai voice murmured.

Toga’s thoughtful frown deepened.  ‘Like she’s . . . familiar to me,’ he clarified.

‘All of which would be so much simpler, had you bothered to ask her for her last name—or given her yours.  Then again, considering how you met, there’s a decent chance that she really doesn’t care, what your surname is.’

He sighed.  Face shifting into a marked scowl, he tried to ignore the misplaced sense of melancholy that accompanied that particular thought.  Why would she have wanted his last name?  He’d killed her dog, for the love of the kami . . . In the end, she probably thought he was a complete baka, and in best case scenario, he figured that there was a damn good chance that she never really wanted to clap eyes on him again.  In worst?

With a sigh, Toga veered away from the street just a little more.  In worst case scenario, she might be out there, biding her time until she found the perfect opportunity to run him down in retaliation . . .

‘Fabulous, fabulous . . . So, you’ve pegged her as a serial murderer, after all?’

Toga snorted indelicately at the sound of his youkai voice—a voice that only he could hear—one that sounded exactly like him, though perhaps just a tad more cynical.  ‘No . . .’ he allowed grudgingly.  "No . . .’

His current preoccupation . . . It was all her fault, damn it.  Beautiful and entirely too approachable . . . why couldn’t he get her out of his mind? Because of those eyes of hers, he decided. He’d always been a pushover for eyes. That had to be it.  It certainly wasn’t that unusual hair color: rose gold, perhaps—was it as soft as it had looked?  Couldn’t have been the way her pale skin seemed to glow—it, too, had seemed much too soft to be real.  Surely it wasn’t the stunning effect of her grudging smile—it had to be his imagination that made him think that her smile had lit up her entire face in an unreal glow . . .

`Good, Toga . . . daydreaming about her—a girl that you’ll never, ever see again . . . baka.’

Grimacing inwardly at the deadly accuracy of his youkai-voice’s words, Toga smothered the urge to sigh.

It really just figured, didn’t it?  It truly just did . . .

Stopping at the corner as he waited for the traffic light to change, Toga wasn’t paying attention to the congestion around him until he heard the female voice yell, "Watch out!” only to glance up, just in time to see the overstuffed floral print chair that was crashing down the building’s stairs straight at him.  Reflex alone made him catch it, just before it knocked him down, and he grimaced, giving it a good yank back since it was precariously close to the street.

"Oh, I’m so sorry! It slip—It’s you . . .!”

"Don’t worry about it.  No harm done, and . . .” Trailing off, unable to do more than blink in shock as he raised his chin, only to come face to face with the object of his daydreams, standing on the sidewalk in front of him, Toga let go of the chair and opened his mouth, willing something to come out of his suddenly-parched throat.

"Toga, right?” she asked, wincing at the chair that had nearly taken him out.

"Uh?”

She sighed, then shrugged, followed in quick order by a little smile. "You hit my dog? Remember?”

He managed a rather daft nod. "Uh huh.”

"Don’t tell me: you’ve succeeded in hitting a few more helpless dogs since the last time I saw you; is that it?” she quipped.

She’d meant it as a joke, and he knew that she did.  It didn’t make him feel any better about the situation on a whole, and he rubbed his forehead, grimacing at the memory of that horrible day, tamping down the fresh sense of guilt over what he’d done.

Her smile faded as a look of concern filtered over her features. "You didn’t hit your head, did you?”

"What?  Oh, no . . . Sorry.” He winced inwardly. `Nice, Toga . . . Smo-o-o-oth . . .’

"Sierra! Come on! We’ve got plans tonight, remember?”

Startled out of his reverie by the man, standing on the stairs with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at him in a decidedly distrustful kind of way, Toga couldn’t help the territorial growl that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him as he met the stranger’s scowl and returned it in much the same fashion.

Sierra rolled her eyes and waved at the man.  "In a minute!”  Turning back to Toga, she grinned and gestured at the chair.  "Well, I guess I should finish with my moving before the guys decide to take off.  It was nice seeing you again.”

"Do you need more help?” Toga blurted as she started to walk away.  It registered in the back of his mind that the guy on the stairs had mentioned that `they’ had plans for tonight . . . Toga growled again.

She stopped and grinned at him.  "Politeness says I ought to decline, simply out of propriety, bu-u-u-ut . . . If you’re sure . . . I did almost run you down with my furniture.”

"This?” he said, waving at the chair.  "Keh!  This is nothing.”  Hefting the chair off the ground and heading for the building without a sign of strain, he caught her drop-mouthed surprise as he brushed past the man on the stoop and carried it into the building.

Sierra grabbed one of the last boxes out of the back of the van and hurried into the building to show Toga where to put the chair.  "This way . . .” she said as she hurried past Toga in the wide hallway.

"Sierra, where do you want this?” another guy asked as he carried a box through the apartment.

"Uh, anywhere . . .” she said absently as she set her box down and barely scooted out of the way as the first guy returned with a large, rattling box.

"Here’s the last of it.  I dropped it on accident . . .”

"No . . .” she gasped. "Those are my dishes!”

The guy made a face, completely nonplussed by her marked upset.  "So, get new ones.”

Sierra rolled her eyes.  "Thanks, guys.”

Toga waited, still holding the chair. Sierra finally seemed to notice and with a soft gasp, she pointed to an empty spot near the matching sofa.  "I’m sorry! I totally forgot . . . You didn’t strain anything, did you?”

Toga set down the chair where she’d pointed and shot her a confused look.  "No . . . why?”

"Gawd, Sie.  Can you go ten minutes without picking up some poor guy?” a third man complained as he strode down the hallway.

Sierra’s cheeks pinked as she studiously avoided Toga’s gaze.  "For your information, I met him a little while ago.”

"A little while ago?” Guy-Number-Two asked suspiciously. "Where did you . . .?  Wa-a-a-ait . . . Are you the idiot who hit Dennis?”

"Uh, yeah,” Toga admitted, forcing a tight little smile.  "Idiot.  Right.  That’d be me.”

"Oh, man . . . You got balls, coming back around here.  I’m surprised Sierra didn’t rip you a new one . . . Dennis was her baby!” Guy-Number-Three said with a groan.

"He was very sorry. You’d think he’d lost a relative or something,” Sierra grumbled as her face flushed sweetly.

Two and Three grunted.  Guy-Number-One shook his head and flicked his wrist to check his watch.  "All right, all right.  I think we’re done here.”  He leaned back, bracing his hands against the small of his back and giving himself a good stretch before he turned his head and stared at Toga for a long moment, as though he were sizing him up.  "Anyway, it was . . . nice . . . meeting you, Dog-Killer.  I’m outta here.  Carol’s going to kill me if I’m late,” he said, completely ignoring the pained grimace that Toga just couldn’t hide. "You’d better like it here because I’m not moving your crap again,” he grouched but kissed Sierra’s cheek before he left.

"Me, too,” Number Three said as he echoed the sentiment of the first guy.  Toga clenched his fists, hidden in his jeans pockets again. "You said you’d pay us in beer, you know.  You’ll go to hell for lying.”

"I’ll pay next time we go out,” Sierra joked as she shoved him toward the door.  "Bye.”  Turning to stare at the remaining guy, she sighed.  "Et tu, Mike?”

Number Two—the remaining guy—Mike?—nodded with a wide, goofy grin.  "Absolutely. Can’t miss the Big Game.”  He’d said it in such a way that indicated that ‘Big Game’ needed to be capitalized, and then, he shot Toga a quick glance and winced.  "Hide the body in the basement, and don’t call the cops,” he joked.

Sierra rolled her eyes and watched as he left, too, before turning back to smile rather shyly at Toga. "Sorry about them . . . They all seem to think they’re funny or something.”

Toga offered an anemic chuckle and scratched his neck a little nervously.  "Uh, forget about it.”

She sighed, then seemed to give herself a mental shake, and she smiled at him again—damn if it wasn’t absolutely endearing—and gave a little bob of her shoulders.  "So, um . . . You want to split a pizza?”

He frowned. "I thought you had plans.”

She giggled. "Nah, they all had plans. I’m free . . . I mean, unless you have plans.”

For a split second, Toga honestly had to wonder if his ears were working correctly.  He could have sworn she’d just asked . . . "Me?  Oh, no . . . I was just going to get something to eat when your chair attacked.”

"I’m sorry about that,” she apologized again as she headed down the hallway.  "Can we . . .?  Can we just call it even?”

Toga smiled rather timidly.  "Even?  Uh, I don’t think it’s quite on the same level, but . . . uh . . . o-o-okay . . .”

Her smile widened, and she gave a quick nod, as though, in her mind, it was all done and dusted.  "Let me change out of this, and we can go . . .”

"Who . . . uh . . . who were they?” he asked, struggling for a neutral tone and failing.

"The guys?  They’re my brothers.”

"Brothers?” Toga echoed, frown deepening. "They can’t be your brothers. You don’t smell anything like them.”

Sierra stopped and shot Toga a puzzled stare.  "I certainly hope not,” she remarked dryly.

Toga flinched inwardly since his penchant for saying something dumb whenever he was acutely uncomfortable seemed to be rearing its ugly head.  "I-I meant, you don’t . . . Don’t really look alike.”

If Toga’s commentary was raising any kind of alarm in her mind, she gave no indication as she tugged on the bottom of her faded tee-shirt and frowned at a discolored spot along the hem.  "Yeah, I’m adopted,” she said almost absently and in an entirely matter-of-fact kind of way.  "The story is, after four boys, Mom and Dad wanted to make sure they finally got a girl.”

"Oh,” he remarked slowly, unable to hide his relieved smile as she disappeared from view.  That made perfect sense then, didn’t it?  Adopted . . . `Brothers . . .? I can deal with brothers . . .’

"Is that your natural hair color?”

Sierra rolled her eyes, leaning forward, biting the end off a bread stick before flicking her wrist to use food to point at him.  "That’s a really boring question, you know.  Anyway, yes, it is.  Is that your natural hair length or do you have extensions?”

Toga shook his head. "Extensions?  This Toga requires none of these ‘hair extensions’ of which you speak.”

She grinned. "Are you sure you’re not really bald under all that hair?”

Accepting her teasing for what it was, Toga shrugged and grinned. "Absolutely. Hideous, really. Completely bald.”  She giggled, and he cleared his throat, trying not to stare—trying not to blush.  "So, uh, do you always try to run hapless pedestrians down with your furniture?”

"Whenever I get the chance,” Sierra quipped, dropping the breadstick onto her plate and reaching for a paper napkin, instead.  "All right, my turn,” she said as she wiped her hands. "Where are you from? Really?”

Toga sat back and sighed.  He’d figured that she was going to ask that question eventually . . . "Tokyo.”

She seemed surprised by his response.  "Really?  You don’t look Japanese.  So, what are you doing in Chicago?”

"Working, working . . . and more working . . .” He shook his head slowly.  "My boss pulled some strings to get my work visa, or so he says. A real slave driver.”

She winced as she sipped her soda.  "Wow . . . All work and no play?  That’s got to be tough.”

"Not so bad,” he admitted.  "I mean, nothing I can’t do.”

She laughed, as though he’d said something entirely witty, which he knew well enough that he hadn’t.  "I like a guy with confidence.”

"Uh, no . . . Just the same sort of things that I did at my old job, is all,” he explained.

She nodded, her eyebrows lifting as she picked at her third slice of pizza.  "Which is?”

Toga shrugged.  "Just looking over some contracts,” he said.  "Standard stuff, no big deal—at least, it wouldn’t be a big deal if I didn’t have four of them to look over by Monday on top of a company thing that I am expected to attend.”

"Sounds like you don’t want to,” she ventured.

He gave another little shrug.  "It’s not that, exactly.  It’s just not my idea of a good time.  I have this black-tie benefit tomorrow night, and I really ought to be looking over a few of the merger files instead . . .” Sitting back, Toga regarded Sierra thoughtfully as she played with her straw as a vague sort of thought occurred to him.  "Would you . . .? You wouldn’t want to, uh, go with me?”

Blinking in surprise, she looked intrigued for all of ten seconds before her interest gave way to a sense of resignation.  "Black-tie?” she asked dubiously, "I don’t know . . .”

Tamping down the wash of regret for not having found her soon enough to ask her to the function properly, he forced a small smile and shook his head.  "It is sudden, isn’t it? Forget I said anything. Stupid idea.”

"No, it’s not that,” she assured him, leaning forward and placing a hand on his arm.  He stared at her. "Are you sure? I’ve never really been to anything like that . . . I might embarrass you.”

He smiled.  He couldn’t help it.  "I doubt you could.”

She shrugged, lowering her gaze to the tabletop as a hint of pink crept into her cheeks.  "I don’t have anything to wear.”

"Wear that.”

She laughed as she glanced down at the pair of white jean shorts and a little blue tee shirt.  Considering he’d just told her it was `black tie’ he supposed she was entitled to her amusement.  He didn’t care.  Would it matter what she wore?  She’d still look beautiful . . .

Biting her lip as though she were considering something, she finally dared to peer up at him through the thick fringe of her eyelashes.  "Maybe I can find something.”

It took a moment for him to digest her answer.  "I’m sure you can.”

"Then you have a lot more faith in me than I sometimes do.”

"Why is that?” Toga asked, leaning back in his chair and dropping his napkin on the table beside the empty plate.

She shrugged.  "Do you always ask girls out after running down their dogs?”

He grimaced.  "Only if they return the favor by trying to run me down with their furniture . . .”

"I . . . I suppose so . . .”  She giggled, blushing as fiddled with her straw a little more. "You’re different, you know? I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody like you before.”

Toga’s smile was full of irony as he stared at the glow of the fake candle in the middle of the table.  Something about her statement just amused him in a kind of pathetic sort of way.  No one like him?  Yeah, he wouldn’t figure that she had . . . "Yeah . . . I’m different, all right.”

She picked up on his reaction, though, and she smiled apologetically.  "I don’t mean that in a bad way . . .”

His smile faded a little as he stared into her eyes. "I didn’t think you did.”

She tilted her head to the side, narrowing her gaze on him as though she were trying to see into his mind.  Finally, she smiled, her eyes glowing in the dimly lit restaurant.  "Your eyes,” she murmured, her voice so quiet that he had to wonder if she realized that she was speaking out loud.

"My eyes?” he echoed with a confused shake of his head.

Her blush deepened the tiniest bit though her smile didn’t fade at all.  "I was just thinking,” she admitted, "that your eyes . . . They’re really pretty.”

Toga blinked in surprise and tried to ignore the rising heat that suffused his cheeks.  "They . . . are?”

"Yes.”  She nodded, dropping her napkin on the table and sat back with a satisfied sigh.  "I’m having a really nice time.”

He swallowed hard when she smiled at him; and he slowly grinned back at her.  "Me, too.”