InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 3: Forever ❯ Familiar Face ( Chapter 28 )

~~Chapter 28~~

~Familiar Face~

 

Nezumi lay on her bed with Yukitora purring happily on her chest in the dimly lit room. Staring at the ceiling, she heaved a sigh.

 

`Come on, Nez, he's still the same Ryomaru. You know that, right?'

 

Did she know that? Sure, he looked the same, and maybe he'd done his job for years, but it didn't serve any other purpose but to confuse her when all the things she thought she knew were somehow turned askew. The Ryomaru she knew wasn't a . . . wasn't a killer, wasn't capable of doing that sort of thing, and yet if it had been a part of him all along, why hadn't she seen signs of it before?

 

Everything was changed, distorted. As though her entire perspective had been altered, she wasn't sure what to think. Even if he was still the same Ryomaru, her perception of him was different. How could she go back to the way things were when it all seemed like it was spiraling out of her control?

 

`Why do you have to be in control, Nez? Isn't it enough that Ryomaru hasn't really changed despite what you thought he was? Weren't those your delusions? He never forced you to believe anything, did he? Weren't those your own misconceptions?'

 

Maybe they were. Maybe she was comfortable in the chosen roles they filled in each others' lives. She was the responsible one; he was the troublemaker. She listened to him talk about everything and nothing; he made her laugh when she needed it.

 

`Maybe you used those excuses to keep your distance. Isn't that what you always wanted, Nez? Pine for him from afar but don't let him get too close because you might have to let yourself be vulnerable?'

 

Was that really what she'd wanted? Hiding behind the guise of friendship and telling herself that he'd never, ever be faithful, never be anything but a playboy . . . Had she sabotaged herself from the beginning? Easier to hide in the shadows than to take a chance at something that could either blow up in her face or . . .

 

`Or it could be beautiful.'

 

As loathe as she was to admit it, one more nagging thought bothered her. In all the time she'd known Ryomaru, he'd only really let her down once, and that was more of a misunderstanding over the stray kitten than something deliberately meant to hurt her. She, on the other hand, had tried him, convicted him, and sentenced him, all in the confines of her mind.

 

Yukitora stood up and arched her back with a wide yawn, digging her claws into Nezumi's sweatshirt before hopping off the bed and ambling to the door. “Mew?”

 

“You want out?” Nezumi asked as she sat up. “All right.”

 

As soon as the door was open, the kitten trotted into the hallway. Nezumi leaned against the door and sighed.

 

“Your terms, Nez . . .”

 

“When did you fall in love with that baka twin of mine?”

 

“My son's spent a lifetime protecting you, you know . . .”

 

Nezumi made a face, shook her head stubbornly. `Protecting me . . . ? I've never needed his protection.'

 

The memory of a neighbor's huge dog flowed through her mind, and Nezumi's eyes widened suddenly as she stifled a groan with the back of her hand. `Or maybe . . . maybe I just never realized that he had been doing that all along . . .'

 

 

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

 

 

`You should have told her before.'

 

Ryomaru stared out his bedroom window at the half-moon high in the sky and sighed. `Give me a break . . . I'm not good at this.'

 

`Feh! You can say that again . . . She hasn't said a damn word to you all day, and the reporters calling for interviews really didn't help.'

 

He winced. No, those calls hadn't helped, at all. Once today he thought Nezumi was going to ask him something but the telephone had interrupted, and after growling that he wasn't about to give any interviews on the incident, he'd looked around to find that she'd closed herself in her room.

 

Worse than the silence was the feeling that he'd somehow let Nezumi down, that he'd failed her.

 

`I couldn't save that woman. Why the hell would I be able to save Nezumi?'

 

After leaving the police station the night before, he'd walked to the hospital, prowling the waiting room while he waited for word on the woman's condition. Two hours later, the nurse had come to tell him that the woman had died in surgery. He'd spent the next hour wandering the streets of Tokyo, ignoring the odd glances he got because of his disheveled appearance. By the time he'd pulled himself together enough to head home, he'd hoped Nezumi was already sleeping. He had hoped she hadn't seen the news reports because he had no idea what to say to her.

 

But it seemed like the most natural thing in the world, going home. “Nez, you need to lock the door when I'm not home . . .”

 

He winced. There were so many other things he could have said, things that might have mattered more, in the end. Or would she still have looked at him like he was a stranger?

 

`I'd let her go, if I could. I'd let her go because she's always deserved better than me. How can I protect her? I couldn't even protect that woman in the alley . . . and Nez . . . kami, if something happened to her . . .'

 

“Mew.”

 

With a sigh, Ryomaru glanced down at the kitten sitting patiently at his feet. The irony hit him hard---a cat befriending a dog---and the chuckle that had started to well up in his throat took on a harsher sound as he scooped up the kitten and settled back in the window seat, careful not to lean back since the wounds from his fight hadn't healed.

 

“So that's why she wanted out of my room.”

 

Turning at the sound of Nezumi's soft voice, Ryomaru dropped his gaze, staring thoughtfully at the kitten on his lap as she pushed her head against his knuckles. With a deep breath and an uncharacteristically soft tone, he finally broke the silence. “She died . . . that woman in the alley . . .”

 

“You went to the hospital, didn't you?”

 

“Fat fucking lot of good it did. I didn't want to be a hero. I just wanted . . . I don't know what I wanted.”

 

He heard her bare feet whisper against the floor. He knew she was standing beside him, but jumped when her fingers cautiously touched his arm. “I thought I knew you, Ryo. You . . . you were supposed to be the charmer, the guy who never had to work that hard because everything was just given to you. Why did you have to change all that?”

 

He shook his head, unsure what she wanted to hear though he knew by the tone of her voice that she was starting to deal with the things he'd told her. He still couldn't look at her. He couldn't stand to see that look in her eyes, couldn't stand the accusation that he'd let her down, that he had changed everything. “I . . . I was trying to protect you, I guess . . . I didn't want you to worry.”

 

“Why?”

 

He shrugged. “Come on, Nez. You freak when I mention blood. You tell me how I was supposed to tell you something like this.”

 

“And you think it was easier to see your face on the news?”

 

“. . . No. I'm sorry.”

 

“Ryo . . . I'm not going to fall apart if you tell me something . . . at least, not if you warn me first.”

 

“How can I do that, Nez? I've never . . . I've never been good with words.”

 

“But you're doing fine right now.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Nezumi sighed softly and stared past him out the window with a thoughtful frown. “Do I . . . do I still know you?”

 

He finally met her gaze, her eyes glowing in the wan moonlight. “I'm no different than I was when I left yesterday. You know me. You've always known me.”

 

She didn't look completely comforted by that though she did look slightly relieved. He supposed it would take some time for that wariness to leave her gaze completely. “Are you ever going to trust me again?”

 

His question seemed to catch her off guard, and she shook her head slowly. “I never stopped,” she admitted. “It wasn't a question of trust . . .”

 

Something about the depth of her stare touched him. She was the girl he knew and yet there was so much more to her that he hadn't seen before. She didn't look away from him, didn't try to hide her feelings. She blinked and tried to smile, and in an instant he knew: he belonged wherever she was. Nezumi was his stability. Anywhere as long as she was there . . . “Your eyes . . . they're really something.”

 

She didn't pull away when he reached out to brush her hair back away from her cheek. In her gaze, he saw the girl he knew so well, the one who knew him. The remnants of doubt lingered but something brighter sparkled in her eyes. `Nezumi . . . I've always needed to be with you . . .'

 

Rubbing the pad of his thumb over her high cheekbone, he felt himself slipping away in her gaze; the power of her stare a staggering thing under the weight of emotion, the burden of anxiety, of quiet hope and rising determination.

 

He didn't notice when the kitten hopped off his lap to curl up in the window seat. The fierce need to protect Nezumi reverberated with a sense of urgency, a sense of madness, a frenzied need. She was more than just his friend, more than he could put into words. She was fearless. She was strong. She was his reason. She was beautiful.

 

He tried to smile, tried to reassure her. The gesture seemed empty, hollow, and somehow he knew if he didn't do something now, she would slip away from him. “Nez, I . . .”

 

But he'd never been good with words. He never would be. Nezumi knew that, didn't she?

 

Leaning toward her, brushing his lips over her cheek, a whisper of a kiss meant to tell her what he couldn't say. She gasped softly, turned her face toward his, met his kiss with hers, and he forgot to breathe as time stopped moving, as the collision of a million emotions culminated in the trembling flutter of butterfly wings.

 

She leaned against him, rested her hands on his chest, content to be held. Her scent---warm and invigorating---wrapped around his senses, called out to his youkai blood. He sank his fingers into her hair, dislodged the ponytail as the silken strands rippled over his hands. Her lips opened to him as a shiver raced through her. A ragged moan slipped from him, a brilliant warmth enveloped him. Her body molded against his perfectly as need fueled passion, as desire sparked, ignited, spread.

 

`Deirdre, as long as you'll have me, I'll be here with you . . .'

 

Maybe he hadn't spoken out loud. Maybe it didn't matter. As though her heart had heard his pledge, she relaxed in his arms, fell against him with a sigh, with a whisper, with the crush of her body against his. Her arms snaked around his neck, twisted in his hair. Slowly, hesitantly, she returned the pressure of his lips, pushing herself up, creating a nearly painful heat that spiraled through him, shocked him, burned him. As though his entire life had led to this moment, as though everything that had happened led to this, he couldn't remember the same sense of completeness, and it didn't frighten him. He felt like he'd come home.

 

He broke the kiss, dropped his forehead against hers, drew a ragged breath that mingled with a weak chuckle. She nuzzled against him, buried her face in his neck, her soft exhalations ruffling over his skin as a heady shiver raced down his spine. “Your terms, Nez?” he forced himself to remind her. Grimacing as he waited for her answer, afraid she would leave, afraid she would stay; he didn't realize he was holding his breath. There was too much riding on her answer, and this time, he wanted it to be for the right reasons.

 

“My . . . terms,” she mused quietly, wrapping a lock of his hair around her fingers. “Ryo . . .”

 

His relief was evident in the loud exhalation as he rested his cheek against her head. She felt so alive, so vibrant, and she hadn't pulled away. `Forever, Nezumi . . . I promise . . .'

 

“This is . . . nice,” she murmured.

 

The nearly painful catch in his chest made him wince but he smiled just a little as he held her. She sighed and relaxed as he struggled to come to grips with emotions that were suddenly clear to him. He felt as though he'd known it all along, and yet it hadn't been clearer to him than it was at that moment. She was more precious to him than anything else in the world, and she always had been. He couldn't remember a time in his life when she wasn't there, and the idea of her slipping away from him scared him senseless. His grip tightened on her. She cuddled closer in silent response. “You know, last night at the hospital, I kept thinking: it didn't matter that I never knew that woman's name. Somewhere she had a family, a best friend, and I wondered if you'd been her . . . Would I have been too late to save you?”

 

Her fingers stilled for a moment before resuming the methodical movement while she toyed with his hair, as he held her on his lap. “You already saved me. When I was a little girl, and I moved here . . . when I really needed a friend.”

 

“Nez . . . what if . . . one of us . . . changed the rules?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

He caught her chin with his knuckle and tilted her head back to stare into her eyes before answering, searching for traces of something---anything---a sign of a promise, of a dream he needed her to wish for, too. “Same players, different game . . . that's all.”

 

She masked the flash of hope behind the cautious façade he knew so well but not before he saw it, the glimmer of brightness: an unshed tear. Gone as quickly as a blink of the eye, she slowly shook her head but didn't look away. “I don't understand.”

 

“You will,” he promised with an enigmatic smile. If he pushed her too far, she'd retreat again. “Your terms, my game. Fair?”

 

He heard her swallow hard as she considered his proposition. “. . . Okay.”

 

 

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

 

 

Ryomaru yawned before he opened his eyes, savoring the borrowed warmth of Nezumi's body nestled so close to him. She'd fallen asleep in on his lap, and he hadn't had the heart to wake her so he'd laid her on his bed and stretched out beside her, staring at her for most of the night. Strange, really. He'd seen her nearly every day since the day they'd first met but now in the last few days, it seemed like he was seeing her---really seeing her---for the first time, ever, and it amazed him. He wasn't sure how he'd missed so many things about her.

 

`Her terms, my game,' he mused as he carefully pulled Nezumi closer.

 

She sighed and buried her face against his neck. He smiled and started to chuckle. The chuckle became a yelp as razor sharp claws dug into his ear, and with a furious growl, he turned in time to see the idiot cat dart under Nezumi's arm. “Ryo? Wha . . .?”

 

“Hand her over, Nez!” he snarled, trying to reach around her to catch the little menace.

 

“What are you yelling about?” she asked as she covered a yawn with her hand and fished the kitten out from behind her back to cradle against her chest.

 

“She attacked me! I'm going to break her fucking neck!”

 

Nezumi scrambled off the bed with the kitten held protectively. “Oh, no you don't!” she warned. “How can she attack you? She's a baby!”

 

“She's got claws, Nez, and I'm gonna rip them out of her paws, one at a time,” he warned as he scooted off the bed and advanced on them.

 

“She wasn't trying to hurt you, were you, Yukitora? Of course not . . .” Nezumi cooed at the beast from hell before turning her body to avoid Ryomaru's grabbing hands, and her tone was way too tolerant, way too accommodating. “Now calm down, Ryo! She was . . . playing.”

 

“Not with my damn ears!”

 

“You let me play with your ears,” she pointed out in an overly reasonable tone.

 

“You don't have claws, wench! Then again, she won't either, once you hand her over . . .”

 

“I will not!”

 

“Oi! Whose side are you on?”

 

That earned him a glare. “Baka! Whose do you think?”

 

He couldn't help the incredulous look that surfaced on his features as he stared, slack-jawed as Nezumi turned on her heel and stomped out of his bedroom. He snorted. `She took that fuzzball's side over mine? Feh!”

 

The trill of the telephone cut through the quiet house. “I'll get it!” Nezumi hollered.

 

Ryomaru snorted and pushed his door closed before carefully tugging his shirt over his head. The scrapes on his back were healing though not nearly as quickly as he would have liked. Then again, it had only been a day and a half since the fight, and he couldn't reach his back to properly clean the wounds. Asking Nezumi to do it wasn't a good idea. Maybe he'd run over to his parents' house later and have his mother check them . . .

 

“Ryo, it's for . . . you . . .”

 

He whipped around to face Nezumi but he could tell from the look on her face that she'd seen the damage. Her expression registered absolute horror, and without a word, she handed him the phone before she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.

 

Ryomaru sighed as he watched her retreat. Her face had paled, her eyes had darkened, and he winced as he heard her door close softly. He hadn't exactly been trying to hide his injuries. She was so freaked out when she burst into the bathroom the other night that it didn't surprise him that she hadn't noticed them at the time. Still he knew that just because he'd told her what he did, there was still a good chance that she hadn't really understood the danger behind it all. If nothing else had driven home the risks of what he did for a living, he figured seeing his torn-up back just might have.

 

 

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A/N:

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Final Thought from Ryomaru:

How could I have missed that?

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