InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 2: Defiance ❯ Waterfalls ( Chapter 5 )

~~Chapter 5~~

~Waterfalls~

 

~*~

 

 

Sierra turned to the side and eyed herself critically in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. `For as much as this stupid dress cost,' she mused as she smoothed the dress over her stomach, `it better at least look decent . . .' The Oriental style black silk dress was simple yet elegant enough for her evening out and would be practical later, too—something that Sierra could appreciate in the garment. To be completely honest, she didn't really have the money to spare, but . . . Smiling shyly, she bit her lip as she fussed with the dress. Well, she was really looking forward to her date with Toga of the golden eyes . . .

 

The cap sleeves contoured her upper arms without being too tight, and the dress itself, while form fitting, certainly wasn't skimpy . . . With shaking fingers, she fastened the pearl buttons that ran from the middle of the mandarin collar to the edge of the left shoulder. Wondering for the hundredth time, just what Toga would think, she tried to be unbiased as she slipped on her black pumps.

 

Biting her bottom lip, she frowned as she stared at her reflection. She'd left her hair down but now she was second-guessing herself. Shoving her hands into her hair to finger-comb it back, she pulled it up and sighed. She had considered splurging and having her hair done professionally but when the dress cost nearly four hundred dollars more than she had wanted to spend, she just couldn't quite bring herself to indulge herself in that, too.

 

`What am I doing? I'm a farm girl, not a glamour queen,' Sierra thought with a sigh. Remembering the hopeful expression in Toga's amazing amber eyes though . . . `Come on, Sie. You can do this . . . or you can die trying . . .'

 

Rifling through her drawers, she dug out her brush and some bobby pins. A few minutes later, her hair was piled atop her head with the reddish golden curls spilling down her back. `Better,' she decided.

 

At least she managed to apply her makeup with little incident. Her hands were shaking so badly that she was afraid she'd end up poking herself in the eye. Opting for a soft reddish lip-gloss, Sierra stared at herself and shook her head. Unused to applying a `night face' she'd used the normal lighter tones she used during the day. For some reason, she felt like she was going to look completely stupid at this affair, and that terrified her. `I just met him . . . why do I care?'

 

The memory of his obviously distressed expression when he'd so gently wrapped Dennis in his suit jacket flashed through her mind. His eyes had seemed so sad . . . She sighed. `Puppy eyes,' she thought with a wry smile then shook her head as a soft giggle escaped her. Why on earth had she thought that?

 

She almost decided to wash the makeup off and start over when the muted knock sounded on the door. With a groan, she snatched her tiny pearl earrings off the countertop and hurried down the hallway as quickly as she could in her heels.

 

Taking a deep breath before she opened the door, Sierra's voice died before her greeting ever came out. Hands jammed into his pockets as he shuffled his feet in an entirely endearing, wholly nervous way, Toga offered her a bashful smile as he ducked his head just a little to hide his rapidly pinking cheeks. “You look . . . nice,” he said, his tone oddly choked.

 

Sierra nodded and stepped back, lost in bemusement as she couldn't help but stare at him. Impossibly glossy black hair that hung lower than his waist was smooth and silky. It was hard to tell the difference between his hair and the tailored tuxedo he wore, and she couldn't help but notice how well the ensemble fit him. The black of the suit made the golden hue of his eyes even more startling, and as he looked at her, his gaze took on a soft glow.

 

“I'm almost ready,” she murmured, cheeks unaccountably hot as she tried to remember to breathe. Tilting her head to the side as she fastened her earrings and willing her heart to slow down, Sierra tried to smile at Toga.

 

He cleared his throat and straightened his bowtie.

 

Grabbing her evening purse off the table near the door, Sierra led the way out of the apartment and locked the door behind them. “I wasn't sure if this was fancy enough,” she said as he escorted her out of the building.

 

“It wouldn't really have mattered what you wore,” he assured. “I don't think you can look bad.”

 

“And I think you're just being nice.”

 

He chuckled as he opened the passenger side door for her.

 

Taking a moment to draw a deep breath, Sierra couldn't help but stare as Toga strode around the SUV. Something about the way he moved with such fluidity entranced her. A subtle grace that seemed completely unpretentious, a quiet confidence . . . She smiled as she remembered how easily he caught the huge chair then frowned. `Come to think of it,' she mused, `for his build, he is deceptively strong, too.' Recalling the way he'd lifted Dennis and later that same chair that had nearly run him down, Sierra stared at his profile as he started the vehicle and merged into traffic.

 

Tall and lanky, Toga wasn't exactly body builder material, and though she'd never actually seen him without a shirt on, she had to wonder just how toned he really was. Dennis easily weighed 150 pounds or more, and that chair was quite heavy, too. She shrugged inwardly. Maybe he worked out or something . . .

 

“I hate these things,” Toga admitted with a sigh.

 

“Fancy parties, you mean?”

 

He cringed. “Yeah, more like torture.”

 

“You sound like you've been to quite a few.”

 

He gave a little nod along with a rather drawn out sigh and shrugged. “Unfortunately. Who knows? Maybe you'll enjoy it.”

 

She couldn't help but smile at the hint of resignation in his tone. “Why don't you like them?”

 

Toga shrugged as he kept his eyes on the road. The light from the streetlamps reflected in his golden gaze, and she blinked in surprise. He seemed almost predatory, the way his eyes kept shifting when he never moved his head. “Lots of reasons . . . too crowded, too pretentious, too loud . . . I ended up with a week-long headache after the first one I was suckered into attending . . .”

 

“Loud?” she echoed with a soft giggle. “You make it sound like a rock concert, not a black tie affair.”

 

He winced. “Kami, I'd never live through one of those.”

 

Struck by his odd choice of words until she remembered that he had said he was originally from Japan, Sierra shook her head, struck yet again by the mystery he presented. She laughed. “I don't know . . . I've lived my entire life on the farm, until I went to college. The closest to one of these I've ever been is my high school prom. I'll try not to embarrass you, though.”

 

“As if you ever could.”

 

She blushed at his words, asking herself why they seemed so off the cuff and not at all forced or contrived. Pretension was something she didn't think Toga really had in him . . . or maybe he was just a little too sly because a man who looked like him couldn't possibly be as naïve and vulnerable as he appeared . . .

 

Yet remembering his absolute upset when he'd hit her dog, remembering his sudden fluster the second time they'd met . . . that couldn't have been an act unless he was really, really, really good.

 

 

-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-

 

 

Sierra dug around her evening purse for her powder compact as she stood before the huge sheet mirrors over the counter in the bathroom. Needing a few moments to compose herself before she rejoined her date in the thick of things, she had to admit to herself that Toga hadn't been mistaken at all. The Sheraton Chicago Hotel and Towers was impressive enough. Add to that the stately splendor of the architecture as well as the ambient feel, the intricate ice sculptures, and the illusion created by the `beautiful people', and Sierra had to wonder once more just what she was doing in a place like this.

 

She was being a coward, and she knew it. Fiddling with her compact, she wasn't entirely sure why she'd suddenly needed to escape. Perhaps it was the unsettling feeling that she simply didn't belong here. Maybe that was the real reason that she'd made her excuses before hurrying into the bathroom. `Toga belongs here,' she thought with a dismayed shake of her head as she stared at her reflection. `He looks the part, doesn't he? And what do I look like, exactly? Why in the world did he suggest that I come here tonight?'

 

Letting her breath rush out in a sad sort of way, Sierra dabbed a touch of powder on her nose as an older woman in what had to be a high-end designer dress created for someone about half her age stepped out of one of the well-appointed bathroom stalls and walked over to the sink. `Because,' she reasoned with an inward grimace, `he just moved here a few months ago, remember? Maybe he just didn't know anyone else to ask . . .'

 

Unfortunately, that made more than enough sense. After all, he'd asked her as almost a second thought, hadn't he? Wasn't it normally considered bad form to wait until the last moment to ask a woman to a function such as this? She was the pity date, wasn't she?

 

Snapping her compact closed, she couldn't help the little scowl that twisted her features as she pulled the lip gloss out of her purse. `Now you're being stupid,' she chided herself firmly. `Stop second guessing the poor guy when you don't really have any reason to doubt him.'

 

That did the trick. Fussing with her lip gloss as the older woman sprayed on about ten squirts too many from an atomizer she'd produced from her bag, Sierra tried not to cough as the woman finally—blessedly—headed out of the bathroom.

 

He really was a nice guy, wasn't he? Sure, her brothers had all teased her at one point or another about trusting people from the get go, but there was something about Toga that seemed . . . That thought trailed off, and she shook her head, wondering if she dare admit to the one word that had flickered in her head that she hadn't acknowledged.

 

He seemed . . . familiar, didn't he? As though he were someone that she'd known for years who had drifted out of her life only to drift right back into it . . . that was the feeling that she got whenever she looked at him, wasn't it?

 

And that feeling, she had to admit, was scary as hell, too . . .

 

Women wandered in and out of the ladies' room as Sierra toyed with her lip-gloss. Two women around her age stepped up beside her to check their makeup, too. “This might be an interesting night, after all,” one of them said as she glanced at her friend in the mirror.

 

The tall brunette leaned forward to get a better view as she wiped the contours of her lips with her fingertip. “Oh, yeah? Why?”

 

The bottle blonde turned her head from side to side as she checked her hair. “My mother said that she heard that Sesshoumaru Inutaisho's son is going to be here.”

 

The brunette's interest was perked. “You don't say? What does he look like?”

 

The blonde pulled out a compact mirror and turned around to use it in her inspection. “I don't know . . . I've seen pictures of his father in magazines, but I've never actually seen him . . . though with that much money, does it really matter what he looks like? He's heir to a fortune.”

 

Sierra's cheeks tinged in outrage. It didn't matter that she had no idea what the man they were discussing looked like, either. How bad would it be to be sought after simply because your daddy was rich? The entire conversation left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she clenched her jaw to keep herself in check.

 

“Well, if he looks anything like his father, then he's got to be hot,” the blonde went on to say. “I've heard that he's shy, though, and that he hates having his picture taken . . . Must mean he's a little on the homely side—” she smiled in an entirely catty sort of way, “—not that it really matters, right?”

 

The brunette giggled. “What did you say his name is?”

 

Sierra snapped her purse closed and hurried out of the bathroom. Adopted into a family of men, she had learned early on to speak her mind or else. That habit normally led to trouble, and she figured it would be in her own best interests to put some distance between herself and those opportunistic women before she gave them a good old fashioned piece of her mind. Besides that, it wouldn't have done any good. She'd have ended up looking completely stupid, starting an argument over some guy who was so wealthy that he probably deserved whatever negative things that women like those two said about him. Rich people were a breed unto themselves, weren't they?

 

With a sigh, Sierra tried to brush aside the unwelcome and wholly familiar feelings of inadequacy that surged through her. Something about those women in the bathroom made her feel like a country rube. Their highly polished, highly glossed appearances and their top of the line designer clothes intimidated her, even if she was loath to admit as much out loud . . . It was more than enough to reawaken dormant memories—memories that she really could have done without, at least tonight . . .

 

She spotted Toga right away as she emerged from the bathroom. Leaning back against the wall in a casual slouch with his hands jammed into his trouser pockets and his head down, Toga seemed almost nervous despite the ease of his stance. She couldn't help the little smile as it occurred to her again, just how shy he really seemed.

 

“Sorry I took so long,” she apologized as she stopped beside him.

 

He straightened up quickly, cheeks pinking as though he were embarrassed at his own casual demeanor. “It's fine.” Staring into her face for a few moments, Toga frowned and leaned his head to the side. “Is something bothering you?”

 

She shook her head quickly and sighed. “Just some girls in the bathroom talking about some rich boy who's supposed to be here. They don't even know what the poor guy looks like, and they're ready to jump all over him. It's disgusting.”

 

He blinked in surprise and then smiled. “You sound like my mother.”

 

She grimaced. “Sorry . . . it just seems wrong.” Shaking her head suddenly, she made a face and rolled her eyes. “Then again, he's a rich boy. He probably likes the attention . . .”

 

“You think so?”

 

She sighed. “No,” she admitted, brushing aside the feeling of guilt that she was badmouthing a perfect stranger. “I don't know . . .”

 

“Does the rich boy have a name?” he questioned as he led her toward the open doors of the immense ballroom.

 

“I didn't stick around long enough to hear, but they did say he's Sesshoumaru Inutaisho's son.”

 

He stopped abruptly. Sierra glanced up at him and frowned as her gaze stuck. Staring straight ahead of himself with an almost angry glint in his eyes, Sierra had to wonder exactly what had brought that on. “Toga?”

 

“What do you know of him?” he asked quickly, his tone clipped, tight.

 

Sierra shook her head slowly. “Nothing, really. They said he was heir to a fortune, and that's probably true. I've never actually seen a picture of him or anything . . . Why?”

 

Toga's smile was downright cynical. “Gold digger's dream.”

 

“Probably,” she agreed then shrugged offhandedly. “It must be pretty awful, really.”

 

“Awful?” he repeated with a marked frown.

 

“Yes, awful . . . people like me assuming one thing about you . . . women like them assuming something entirely different . . . and none of us ever actually thought of him in terms of his being a person, I suppose.”

 

Staring at her as though he were trying to read her mind, Toga frowned, eyebrows drawing together over his troubled gaze. “I never actually thought of it that way,” he muttered in an entirely disgruntled sort of way.

 

She blinked. “In any case, I don't think I'd enjoy not knowing if someone was there because of whom you are instead of what you are.”

 

He considered that then finally smiled. It was that lopsided, shy little smile that made her feel all weak in the knees. “Really.”

 

“You sound like you don't believe me.”

 

With a sigh, he shook his head though she could still discern a trace bit of tightness around his eyes. “It's not that. I just never thought of it that way. Thanks for pointing that out,” he said with a grimace.

 

She frowned. “You sound like you know something about this guy. Do you?” she asked in a carefully controlled tone. Why did she feel as though she didn't want to find out where this conversation was headed?

 

Taking her by the elbow as he heaved a sigh, Toga steered her toward a small alcove just outside the ballroom. “I need to tell you something,” he began.

 

“Toga, my boy!”

 

Both turned to see the approach of a middle aged man and his wife. The man was smiling broadly as Toga sighed again. “Mr. Sampson, how are you?”

 

Mr. Sampson waved his hand dismissively. “If I've told you once, Inutaisho, I've told you a hundred times. Mike will do just fine, and this is my wife, Lorraine, but everyone calls her Lolly.”

 

Sierra gasped and stepped back. Toga's face reddened as he shot her an apologetic look. “Y-y-you?” she managed, her voice choked with confusion and maybe a little anger.

 

“Is this your date?” Mr. Sampson went on as though he couldn't sense the instant tension between Toga and her.

 

Toga reluctantly looked away for a moment. “Yeah, uh . . . this is Sierra.”

 

“What a lovely girl!” Lorraine said with a friendly smile.

 

Sierra couldn't return the gesture. Retreating another step, she shook her head. “I think I need to go. Goodbye, Toga.”

 

Before he could answer, she turned and ran, jamming the buttons on the elevator. When she glanced back, Toga was still talking to the couple though he looked like he was trying to get away to follow her. Mercifully the doors opened before he could manage it, and she was safely ensconced in the elevator with the doors closing as he strode toward her.

 

`Oh, Sierra, how could you be so stupid?'

 

Unsure if she was more confused that he hadn't told her or angry that she hadn't asked before, Sierra bit her lip as the elevator stopped on the ground floor. Silently cursing the stupid heels that slowed her down, she managed decent time as she ran for the front doors, ignoring the strange looks she received for the faux pas.

 

`I hate him, I hate him . . . He's probably having a really good laugh right now; laugh at the stupid farm girl . . . He's just like him . . .'

 

Stumbling down the street to the corner of North Water Street and Columbus Drive, Sierra darted across as soon as the pedestrian sign lit up.

 

`Was that why he never asked your last name? Was that the reason he never told you his? A big joke? Make his buddies laugh when they talked about this later? It makes sense, doesn't it? The Toga Inutaisho couldn't get a date to this damned thing? I knew it wasn't right! I knew it, but I . . . Why didn't I see it? He's just like Allan, and I never . . . I let him . . . because I . . .'

 

Memories best left forgotten surged through her mind. Allan, with his seemingly shy smiles, his lopsided grins . . . convincing her that she was special, only to find out that he was nothing but a jerk, and somehow she had ended up being the one left feeling inadequate, like a fool while he laughed in her face—the silly farm girl, the naïve college junior who hadn't understood how the world really worked. Now Toga, with that timid smile, that quiet reserve . . . `How could I be so stupid?'

 

A small sob welled up in her throat, and Sierra stopped suddenly, leaning against a building as she bent over to whip her shoes off before she continued wandering down the street though she did stop running.

 

“Sierra! Wait!”

 

Smothering a gasp as Toga called out behind her, she quickened her pace as she tried to ignore him.

 

“Go away, Toga. Leave me alone!”

 

A hand reached out, grabbed her arm. She tried to pull away but his grip was too strong to break. “I'm sorry. I should have told you,” he admitted when she finally stopped struggling. He sighed. “At least let me take you home.”

 

She shook her head. “I can catch a cab.”

 

“No . . . please . . . let me explain . . .”

 

Finally turning to glare at him, she was caught off-guard by the absolute turmoil in the depths of his gaze. He looked as upset as she was, and that, alone, made her sigh as she waited.

 

He nodded in silent understanding, unable to hide the slight wince; the way he swallowed once—twice—before he dared to try to speak. “I should have told you, but I didn't . . . it wasn't that important, to me . . . I didn't realize that it would matter to you.”

 

Why did he have to look so sincere when he said that? As lame as it could have sounded from any other man, from him . . . it just didn't.

 

She shook her head slowly. “I thought you were different, Toga . . . I really . . . I liked you.”

 

He couldn't hide his grimace at her judicious use of the past tense. “I see,” he replied quietly as he dug his hands into his pockets. “I'm . . . I'm sorry, Sierra . . . Let me call you a cab. It's the least I can do . . . For what it's worth; I've never . . . I've never met anyone like you before.”

 

She watched as he stepped to the curb to hail a cab. `Maybe he . . . maybe he's not like the others, not like Allan,' she thought suddenly. He'd rather let her go than upset her any further, and that had to mean something, wasn't it? “Toga . . .”

 

“Don't worry,” he answered, his voice oddly rasping though he didn't turn to face her. “I'll . . . I'll pay for it.”

 

“Toga . . .”

 

He stepped back when a cab signaled and started to pull up to the curb. Slowly glancing at her over his shoulder, he forced a small smile that only served to worsen the conflict in her head. Looking away quickly, he leaned down to speak with the driver before opening the door and stepping back for her to pass.

 

She moved forward without thinking about what she was doing. Carefully, deliberately, she pulled the door away from his hand and pushed it closed. “You're a strange man, Toga Inutaisho,” she said softly.

 

His back stiffened, arm dropping slowly as he slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Do you need a ride or not?” the driver asked as he blew a puff of smoke out the side of his mouth.

 

Sierra flinched at the cautious hope in Toga's eyes. As though he were begging her to stay, he seemed like he might have been trying to force his eyes away, but he simply couldn't do it. “I'm sorry,” she called to the driver, eyes still locked with Toga's. “I think . . . I'll stay.”

 

Fumbling in his pocket, Toga dropped a wad of bills through the window for the cab driver's trouble. “Thanks,” he muttered before he turned back to stare at her, hands in his pockets, a very slight, very bashful, very endearing smile on his face as the cab driver pulled away.

 

She couldn't help but return his smile as he slowly stepped toward her. Glancing back at the brightness of the hotel, she shook her head slowly. “Would you mind if we didn't go back there?”

 

The instant relief that flooded over his expression was enough to make her smile widen. “I think I've had quite enough of it for one night, myself. Told you I hated these things, right?”

 

She frowned suddenly as she gazed at him. “Toga, did you run after me?”

 

His blush said it all. Her eyes clouded over. “You must be in really great shape then . . . you weren't even winded at all.”

 

“My uncle trained me for years,” he explained. “Classical fighting techniques. He used his sword, passed down from my grandfather. I had more of an affinity for staffs and halberds.”

 

She blinked and shook her head. “Weapons? As in, real weapons?”

 

He nodded, his confusion evident. She laughed softly. “It's not every day someone tells you that they fight with real weapons,” she pointed out.

 

“No, I don't suppose it is.”

 

She smiled as she fell in step beside him. “You don't like the attention, do you?” she asked quietly. “Is that why you moved here?”

 

He shook his head. “No. My father has a penchant for trying to run my life. I guess I'd had enough of it. I'm not hiding from him. I just . . . It's probably better if we don't talk to one another for awhile.”

 

“That's so sad,” she commented softly. “I'm sorry . . .”

 

He shrugged. “Don't be.”

 

She stopped short and gasped softly as they neared the intersection of Congress Parkway and Columbus Drive. “Wow . . .” she murmured, staring at the majesty of the Buckingham Fountain. “I've seen it a million times during the day . . . It looks so different at night . . .”

 

Toga followed the direction of her gaze with an expression of wide-eyed wonder. The fountain was illuminated in golden light, shooting streams of water high into the air. The bronze sculpture of the imposing structure gave him pause as he took it in. She felt his gaze on her just before he slipped his hand under her elbow to guide her toward the fountain.

 

Cradling her shoes against her chest as she leaned her head back to stare at the jetting streams of water, a sudden chill raced up her spine, and she shivered just a little. She turned her head when the warmth of Toga's jacket fell over her shoulders. He was staring at the fountain, too, looking as though he hadn't done a thing. “September nights are colder here,” he murmured as a hint of a flush crept up his cheeks.

 

She held the jacket closed with one hand as she shifted her flustered gaze away again. “Thanks.”

 

He sighed, rocking back on his heels as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. He chuckled softly.

 

“What's funny?” she asked when it became apparent that he wasn't going to tell her voluntarily.

 

He shook his head, his smile still in place. “I was just thinking. Strange . . . the most beautiful things I've seen in my life are things that money can't buy.”

 

Sierra smiled as she gazed at the fountain. “You're right.”

 

“ . . . Yeah.”

 

Sensing his eyes on her again, Sierra turned her face again. Staring at him, she had the distinct feeling that he wasn't talking about the fountain at all. An eruption of butterflies in her belly made it difficult for her to breathe, and she pressed her shoes against her stomach under the shelter of the jacket.

 

A brightness in his gaze, an emotion she couldn't quite define, held her spellbound in his eyes. Leaning toward her slowly, ducking his chin as he came closer, his lips brushed against her cheek. A violent current of something both frightening and wonderful cascaded though her like the falling water.

 

To her surprise, he was blushing when he leaned back. Sierra felt her own skin warming as he quickly looked away. He was mysterious, he was amazing . . . A plunging sensation in the center of her soul scared her but staring at his profile she knew that it wasn't true fear of him but fear of something far headier.

 

What frightened her was how easily she knew she could let herself be lost in him.

 

 

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A/N:

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Reviewers

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Cannana (AFFnet) :

I would say this is adorable, but ... it doesn't seem fitting, somehow. Toga is just a doll, I've thought so since the original Purity. I am so thrilled to see our little boy grow up! Just the sweetest thing! His vulnerably is endearing, his stubborn streak shows in spades. There are times when I see Sesshoumaru shining through, as he should be, but with Kagura's tenacity, Kagome's sensitivity, and InuYasha's passion. This is really an interesting mix, proving that environment does have much to do with the way someone is raised. ------ Toga is just a doll, a complete sweetheart, and it remains to be seen if he, like his father and uncle, has the claws to back it. I somehow think he would. One question, will he ever show this? I know in the modern world, he doesn't necessarily have to fight. I just wonder if he will have to ... And Sierra! She's just too perky and cute, perfect for a young man who wants 'more'!! I can't wait to read more, carry on, Sueric! Show us what you've got!

 

Will Toga show his credentials, you mean? I think so… When you've got two badass relatives to follow along after, chances are very good that you'll have to show it eventually …

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MMorg

tinkerbell-I tried to sign in, really ------ bloodykitsune ------ cjflutterbye ------ chichiwvu ------ Aitu-- not signed in ------ Shaodw_Within (no time to log in!

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FFnet

My Own Self ------ Flames101 ------ angelica incarnate

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AFFnet

snowfall

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Final Thought from Toga:

… Damn …

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Defiance): 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~