InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ Honest Mistakes ( Chapter 6 )

Bellaniece awoke to a throbbing temple and an unreasonable desire to rip someone's head off.  Anyone would do, she supposed.  She was about to roll over and go back to sleep when reality intruded in the form of her alarm clock.

'Oh . . . no . . . not again!'

She had to be a glutton for punishment.  She had to be.  There wasn't any other explanation for it.  Only that could explain why she bothered to get up every morning and walk the four blocks to Dr. Izayoi's office only to endure his perpetual bad moods or worse, his snide commentary whenever she was unfortunate enough to be left alone with him.

The last thing she wanted to do was go into that office.  She'd worked for him for a total of two weeks, and in those two weeks, she had realized something that she hadn't in the beginning.  One person really could be in that foul a mood every single morning of every single day.  At least it wasn't always horrible.  Most of the time he simply glared, which was a far sight better than his less savory habit of sniffing in her direction and then contorting his face in the most ill-mannered show of disgust Bellaniece had ever received.

Sitting up with a heavy sigh, Bellaniece reached over and turned off the alarm.  She didn't dare give in to the urge to quit the job, as much as she wanted to.  She didn't need it.  Her father was wealthy enough.  If it weren't for Kelly, for the surgery that she needed, Bellaniece wouldn't think twice about quitting.  It baffled her, just why Dr. Izayoi insisted she work for him.  By all accounts, he couldn't stand her any more than she could stand him, which was a shame since he really was quite handsome . . .

'What?  Handsome?  Maybe I cracked my head in my sleep . . . As if I really need to think about Kichiro Izayoi . . . like that!'

Wrinkling her nose as she tossed the covers away and stumbled out of bed; Bellaniece arched her back and stretched her arms over her head.  Shuffling toward the door, she rolled her head from side to side, wincing at the tightness between her shoulders.

'He's a complete and utter jerk.  I've never seen anyone who is as much of a creep as he is!  I swear he tries to go out of his way to be as offensive as he can be.  Just what is his problem, anyway?'

Cain was in the kitchen, hunched over the counter with his attention focused on the newspaper.  Clad in the loosely tied knit shorts he wore to bed, he obviously had just rolled out of bed, too, but since classes didn't start for another two hours, he was able to take his time getting ready.  He had a hunk of chocolate cake in one hand and a mug of something in the other.  He set the mug down to turn the page and retrieved it again without glancing up.  "Morning," he mumbled.  "Coffee's ready."

Bellaniece made a face and shook her head.  It was habit for him, she supposed.  He always told her that there was a pot of coffee ready even though she couldn't stand the smelly drink.  As full youkai to her hanyou state, she didn't really understand how he could tolerate it.  She rolled her eyes and ambled over, carefully unwrapping the remaining slice of chocolate cake.

"I bought bagels for you," Cain informed her without looking up from the paper.  "You can't have cake for breakfast.  It's bad for you."

She grinned and ignored his admonition as she dug a knife out of the drawer and cut a small slice for herself.  There were moments when she wondered if her father really saw her at all.  This was one of those times.  He wasn't apathetic, but he did have a habit of being distracted.  It was one of his quirks, and sometimes she had to wonder if he even realized that she wasn't a pup anymore.  "You're one to talk," she pointed out, leaning on the counter beside him as she waved her slice of cake toward his.

"Do as I say, not as I do."

Bellaniece giggled and nibbled a bit of the chocolate frosting.  "You know, Daddy, we've had a lot of cake around here lately.  Going to tell me where they keep coming from?"

"You're going to be late for work," he said, sidestepping the cake question like he did every morning.

Bellaniece's grin turned sly.  "Is she pretty?"

Cain stuffed nearly half of his slice of cake into his mouth to avoid answering but his cheeks reddened just a little.

'Interesting . . . When's the last time I saw Daddy blush?'  Schooling her features to hide her amusement, Bellaniece sighed dramatically.  "How about a nice, yellow cake today?  I'm sure if you asked, the cake fairy would be happy to grant your wish . . ."

"Oh ayk oor owah," he mumbled as his cheeks darkened more.

"I took a shower last night," Bellaniece pointed out, "but you win."  She giggled and sauntered away, nibbling at her cake as she headed for the bathroom.

'Maybe he really has met someone,' Bellaniece mused as she polished off the last of her slice of cake and rinsed the crumbs off her fingers.  'That'd be nice . . . too nice . . .'

She sighed as she turned on the shower taps and stripped off the oversized white button-down shirt she'd filched from Cain's closet that she wore as pajamas.  Sticking her hand under the flow of water to check the temperature, Bellaniece bit her bottom lip and shook her head.  'That's almost too much to hope for, isn't it?'

She'd almost given up hope.  It was something she didn't like to dwell on, but the truth was that Cain just bided his time.  Though he never really said as much to her, Bellaniece knew the score.  When a youkai's mate died, it was only a matter of time before the other would follow.  Since her mother had died long ago, it hadn't taken much to figure out that Cain had only toughed it out because of her and because of his responsibilities as tai-youkai.  He needed to make sure she survived, and he had to make sure he had an heir.  Because she was a girl, she couldn't inherit the title and position.  No, Cain needed a son . . . or a grandson . . .

Bellaniece stepped into the shower and closed her eyes as she let the torrent of water wash over her.  She'd asked him once a long time ago, what would happen if he found another mate.  He hadn't really answered her, and the look on his face was enough to dissuade her from ever broaching the subject again.

She had learned, from overhearing some visitors awhile later, that it was possible for a youkai to find another mate, if they could survive the initial shock of losing the first.  It was to that end that Bellaniece had been trying to get her father to notice another woman—any woman.  Truthfully, she wouldn't care if her would-be stepmother had purple punk hair cut in a Mohawk with enough tattoos and body piercings to put most bikers to shame.  If Cain found a woman to make him happy again—to make him want to live again—then Bellaniece would consider herself grateful.

Cain knocked on the door and tapped the plate lightly against his hip as he waited for Gin to answer.

"Who is it?" she called, her sing-song voice raised to permeate the thick door.

"Cain."

"Oh, Cain . . . O-Okay."

He stepped back with a frown as the rattle of the chain and snap of the deadbolt lock sounded moments before the door swung open.  Blinking in surprise as she tugged on the belt of the thigh-length silk robe, he could smell the dampness of her skin, her hair.  Retreating another step as the fierce desire to grab her shot through him, he shook his head, tried to look away.  He couldn't.  She'd obviously just gotten out of the shower, and Cain had to swallow a couple times before he could find his voice.  "M-Morning."

Gin's smile was bright, golden eyes brilliant and glowing.  "Morning, yourself!  Want to come in?" she asked as she stepped back and let the door fall open a little more.

'Hell, no!  Run, Cain!  Get as far away from her as you possibly can!'

"Uh, all right," he agreed, feet heavy as lead as he forced them to move.  "I was just . . . I wanted to return your plate."

She jerked back slightly when he shoved the plate under her nose.  With a soft giggle, she took it and hurried over to put it down.

The robe was longer than the miniskirts she normally wore to class, he reasoned.  Why, then, did it have such a profound effect on him?

'Don't answer that, you fool!  I told you to run.  You could have just given her the plate at the door and left, but no-o-o-o; you had to come in . . .'

"Do you want a cup of tea?" Gin asked over her shoulder as she stood on tip toe to retrieve the ceramic mugs from the top shelf.  The robe rose shockingly high, but if Gin noticed that at all, Cain couldn't say.  He did, damn it, and try as he might, he couldn't look away.

'Snap out of it, Cain!  You see your daughter in less than that, and you don't gape at her, do you?'

'Pfft!  That's my daughter, you pervert!  She,' he thought, inclining his head toward Gin's back, 'is definitely not.'

Seemingly unaware of the scrutiny she was under; Gin carefully poured two mugs of tea and brought them over to him.  "Here . . . If you want sugar or anything . . . Oh, you know where I keep all that, right?"  Setting her mug down on the table, she shot Cain one of the impish grins he was becoming a little too familiar with.  "I'm going to go get dressed really quick.  I can't drink my tea that hot, anyway."

He tried not to watch as she darted off toward the hallway that led to her bedroom.  Peeking over his shoulder despite his resolve not to look, he sighed as she waved back at him before ducking into her room and closing the door.

'Why is it that whenever she's around you can't even see straight, Cain?'

Grimacing as he deliberately strode over to the cupboard where she kept the sugar, he tried to ignore the voice of his youkai.

'Good God!  You know where she keeps stuff in her cupboards!  This is bad, you know it?  Really, really bad . . .'

'I have a good memory,' he thought with a mental shrug.  'She got the sugar out of here yesterday.'

'And the day before that, and the day before that . . . well you get the picture.  You've had tea with her every morning for the last two weeks!  You even rush Bellaniece out of the apartment so you can scurry over here to drool over Gin!'

'. . . I don't scurry.'

His youkai sighed.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

Cain snapped out of his reverie and glanced over at Gin, who was fully dressed in a green silk blouse and white skirt.  She leaned on the counter and smiled when his eyes met hers.  "Pardon?"

She made a face.  "I said, 'a penny for your thoughts' . . . Isn't that one of the phrases you Americans use?  I read it somewhere . . . a magazine or book . . ."

He smiled despite himself.  It was nearly impossible not to smile at her, and with her this close, it was nearly impossible to resist the urge to tweak her little hanyou ears, too.  Though she seemed calm enough, her ears pivoted like radar receivers.  They fascinated him.  Bellaniece's ears were pointed, like his, and she bore crests like he did.  'Does Gin have crests?' he wondered briefly.

'Don't even think about that,' his youkai snapped.

Luckily she stood up before he could reach for her ears, and she moved off to retrieve her tea.  "So what are we drawing today?" Gin asked as she carefully sipped her tea.

Cain shrugged and turned around, leaning back on the counter as he stirred the cup.  "Model," he told her.  "Think you can do that?"

She grinned.  "Sure!  Does that mean we're finished doing still-lifes?"

"For now."

"Good.  I don't mind them, but it's more interesting to draw actual living things."

Taking his time as he lifted the fragrant tea to his lips, Cain smiled slightly as Gin set her cup down, twisting it in circles as she leaned her head to the side and stared at the sloshing liquid.

'You know, Cain, today's model is a man.'

'. . . I don't care.'

'You don't?  That's good, because he'll be naked.  Gin's going to draw a naked man.'

'. . . Still don't care.'

'Think she's seen a naked man before?'

'Sure, she has,' he scoffed.  'She's twenty-four.  It's impossible not to have seen a naked man or woman by that age, don't you think?'

His youkai laughed rather nastily.  'And you really don't care?'

'. . . Nope.'

'What if she likes this guy?'

'Like that'll happen.'

'It could happen.  She'll see him naked.'

Cain grimaced inwardly.  'She won't even care about the model, and even if she does, it doesn't matter to me,' he insisted.

'Huh . . . If it doesn't matter to you, why are you squeezing the hell out of that mug?  If you don't loosen your grip, you're going to—'

Gin yelped as the mug in Cain's hand cracked with a loud scrape.  Lukewarm tea slipped over his hand and down his shirt, dripping onto his pants as a few droplets splattered on the floor.  "Cain?  Oh, my!  Let me help you!" she insisted as she retrieved a snowy white dish towel and started blotting his hand and shirt.

"It's fine," he told her as he tried to push her away.  She brushed his hand aside and shook her head as she soaked more tea into the stained cloth.  "Gin, it's fine."

"You'd better get that shirt off," she told him, ignoring the disgruntlement in his tone.  "It needs to soak or that stain is going to set . . . Here, let me help you."

Staring in dumbfounded disbelief as Gin's nimble fingers started unbuttoning his shirt, Cain blinked, feeling heat steal up his cheeks as he opened his mouth to form words that wouldn't come out.

'What are you doing?  She's stripping you!'

"Gin!" he grumbled louder than he meant to as he brushed past her to drop the broken cup into the trash and shook his hand over the container.  "It's not a big deal, all right?"

He grimaced.  Did she have to look like he'd hurt her feelings?  Dropping her gaze, she shrugged, wringing the towel in her hands as she bit her bottom lip.  "I'm sorry about your shirt . . . I can get you a new one, if you want."

"Don't worry about it.  I have more than enough shirts.  It's not your fault, anyway."

She peeked up at him and quickly looked away again.  Cain frowned.  She looked even more upset than she had before.  The frown contorted into a grimace as tears sprang to her eyes, and Cain stared, horrified, when she tried furiously to stave them back.

"G-G-Gin?"

She sniffled, lip quivering as she shook her head.  "It's just . . . I mean . . . Oh, it's stupid."

"Stupid?" he echoed, taking a hesitant step toward her.  "Gin, you're not making much sense."

She wiped a tear off her cheek.  "Well, my ojii-san gave me that cup before he died."

"Oh, hell . . . I'm sorry . . ." he mumbled.

Gin waved a hand and sniffled.  "It's okay.  It's just a cup, right?"  She drew a shaky breath and tried to smile which only served to make Cain feel even worse.  

"Gin . . ."

She shook her head quickly.  "Oh . . . Look at the time!  You'd better hurry if you're going to change shirts before class!"

Cain didn't respond.  Torn between the desire to comfort her for his mistake and the need to change out of the tea-stained shirt, he winced at Gin's overly-brilliant smile.  "Hurry up or we'll miss the bus."

It was on the tip of his tongue to point out that they didn't really have to take the bus since they could both run faster than the vehicle.  She was convinced to put on a happy face, though, and in the end, Cain didn't have the heart to do anything but nod as he strode toward the door.

'That was just awesome, Cain . . . So what're you going to do for an encore?'

Cain made a face as he jammed the key into his door.  'I thought you wanted me to stay away from her,' he thought as he smacked his palm against the door and stomped inside.

'Be that as it may, did you have to smash her cup?  What the hell possessed you?  You've only known her for a couple weeks, and even then, she's just a pup!'

'I know that!'

'Do you?'

'I'm not senile, damn it!' he fumed, jerking the shirt off and sending the last couple buttons that Gin didn't unfasten flying around the room.  'I wasn't possessed, either.'

'Oh yeah?  What would you call it, then?  You started thinking about the idea of her sketching a nude male model, and you lost your temper!  Cain . . . don't be stupid!'

Shrugging on a clean shirt, Cain sighed and closed his eyes, pausing for a moment before tugging the hem down and dragging his hair out of his collar.  The ponytail swished against his shoulders, and he deliberately took his time working the buttons.  'I . . . I don't know.'

'What do you mean, you don't know?  You're letting her get under your skin.  You can't even think straight when she's around.  All it takes is one look from her, and you're a hopeless mess.  Get a grip!  Come on!'

That wasn't true, was it?  He shook his head but couldn't really argue the claim.  Gin was dangerous, wasn't she?  Her sweetness, her naiveté, her absolute abandon, was impossible to ignore, inebriating, and entirely too welcome.  In a world that had dimmed long ago, a life he now spent simply making the motions, she'd reminded him that beauty still existed.  She called to him in a voice that he heard deep within; the stir of whispers he'd long since forgotten.

'And what'll you prove by dragging this on?  What do you really think you'll achieve?  Gin isn't yours.  She's never been yours.  She'll never be yours.  You promised, remember?  You made a vow, and that promise was sealed in blood.'

'Blood . . .'

Moving by rote, remembering things that were best left in the past, Cain stalked into the bathroom, jerked the handles to unleash the flow of water.  His hands were shaking as he stuck them under the tap.  Cold, clingy, the water gushed over him.  In his mind, he saw crimson, saw his claws still smeared with blood—Isabelle's blood—and that blood wouldn't wash away.  The painful memory raked at his soul: nose filled with the stench of death, ears throbbing with the harshness of her ragged breaths, Cain couldn't escape the filmy light that filled the room with a somber aura . . .

Over the years he'd tried to justify it to himself, tried to defend his actions.  Too bad it was simpler to cast aspersions.  Too bad it was easier to hate himself for his own weakness, his own lack of vision.  Weren't mistakes more convenient to find when everything was confined to the ritualistic perfection of memories?  It was natural to see where the errors were made in hindsight.  It was easier to blame himself than it was to believe in the capricious nature of fate.

Golden eyes flashed through his mind, a hint of a smile, a blur of silver.

Cain jerked back, brought his hands up, turning them over as he grimaced.  The blood had been washed away long ago, hadn't it?  The only thing that lingered was recrimination.

Lifting his gaze to his reflection in the mirror, he winced at his haggard appearance.  His eyes were veiled in troubled shadows, his skin pale and drawn.  Shaking off the remnants of unreasonable fear, Cain dried his hands, tried not to ask himself why he'd seen Gin's eyes, Gin's smile, tried to ignore the significance behind it. "Isabelle, I . . ." he murmured.  "What am I doing?"

The voice of his youkai blood remained conspicuously quiet.

Kichiro sighed as he flicked his wrist to check his watch.  'Late again . . . you'd think that I'd be able to get to the office on time, just once.'

'Balls, Kich, just set your office hours back an hour, and you'll be on time every day.'

Snorting as he dropped into the alley beside the building, he shook his head.  'Your Ryomaru-esque logic astounds me,' he pointed out.

'Then don't bitch about being late all the time.'

Kichiro didn't answer as his gaze stuck on the blue Harley parked next to the curb.  'Ryomaru's here?  Speak of the devil . . .'

Scowling as he glanced up at the overcast sky, Kichiro grabbed the door handle and yanked.

"Morning, Izayoi-sensei," Mai greeted without looking up from her work.

Kichiro's frown deepened as his eyes swept over Bellaniece's empty desk.  "Where is Belle?"

Mai reached for the phone, pausing with her hand on the receiver.  "She headed back to your office just after your brother arrived."

"What the fuck are you doing, bitch?"

Kichiro's eyes flared at Ryomaru's loud snarl.  He didn't wait for further explanation, striding back toward his office.

Nezumi stood in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest.  She glanced up at Kichiro, her expression blank though her bright blue eyes were lit with obvious amusement.  Kichiro stopped behind her and raised his eyebrows in a silent question before shifting his gaze over her head.  It only took a second to assess the situation, and he covered his mouth with a hand to stifle his amusement.

Ryomaru stood over by the desk, glaring mutinously at Bellaniece, who kept trying to grab Ryomaru's ears only to be thwarted when Ryomaru leaned from side to side.  "Get your fucking hands away from me!" Ryomaru growled.

"Oh, come on, Dr. Izayoi!  Don't be such a stiff!"

"Oh, my," Nezumi murmured.

"I ain't Dr. Izayoi!" Ryomaru shot back.  "Now get the hell back!"

"I think I'd know if you weren't you," Bellaniece replied as she grabbed at his ears again.

"Yeah, you would!"

"So you left your hair down today, big deal.  It looks better, anyway."

'Kich, get in there before Ryo loses his temper!'

Kichiro snorted.  'Keh!  She needs to learn some manners, anyway.'

'Maybe but Ryo looks like he's ready to cut her down, damn it, and like it or not, Belle's your—'

'Finish that thought, and you'll regret it.'

'Then get in there!'

Kichiro rolled his eyes and loudly, deliberately cleared his throat.

Ryomaru finally noticed Kichiro standing behind Nezumi.  "Balls, Kich, can you get this bitch off me?"

Bellaniece peeked over her shoulder to see who Ryomaru was talking to, and she froze, hands poised, ready to grab at the hanyou's ears again.  The expression on her face was priceless.  She stared at Kichiro with a mounting sense of bewilderment before slowly looking back at Ryomaru.  Kichiro nearly laughed outright as she lifted her chin and sniffed.  Moments later her cheeks blossomed in a bright flush, and she jerked her hands away and stumbled back.  "There are two of you?" she squeaked incredulously.

"Sorry, Ryo.  I'll pick up a leash for her later."

Bellaniece's cheeks darkened almost painfully as her embarrassment dissolved into righteous indignation.  "Why, you—"

"How did you mistake him for me?" Kichiro cut in before she could finish her tirade.

She lifted her chin and shrugged.  "You smell almost the same," she huffed.  "I didn't know there were two of . . . you."

"It's called 'twins', little girl.  Surely you've heard of them."

"Can you finish the lovers' spat later?" Ryomaru snarled as he shot her one last glower, Ryomaru stomped past her, muttering under his breath about insane secretaries.

"Lovers?" Bellaniece choked.  "As if I would ever love anyone as irritating as him!"

Kichiro ignored the 'lovers' spat' comment since it annoyed Bellaniece so much that she tried to storm out of the office.  He shifted his weight to his left leg, thus blocking the doorway and causing Bellaniece to stop short.  "Excuse me," she bit out.

"You probably should apologize to my brother for being . . . you."

Bellaniece's face contorted angrily, and she shoved Kichiro aside before stomping out of the office.

"What the fuck is going on?" Ryomaru demanded, staring suspiciously at Kichiro as Bellaniece disappeared from view.

"So what brings you by?"

Ryomaru snorted.  "Keh!"

Nezumi rolled her eyes.  "He was complaining about his thumb hurting all last evening."

"Oh?  Why's that?  Where were you sticking it?"

Ryomaru's golden eyes narrowed menacingly.  "My job, baka.  Anyway, I told Nez it's fine now, but she won't listen."

"You can't be too careful," Nezumi contested.

Kichiro sighed but grabbed Ryomaru's hand.  Taking his time examining the appendage, he pressed around the joint and wasn't surprised when his brother jerked his hand back with a sharp hiss of pain.  "I think you just jammed it, but you might want me to get a couple of x-rays, just to be safe.  You can move it, right?"

Ryomaru nodded.  "Yeah, it'll be fine in a day or two."

Though Kichiro was inclined to agree, as a physician, he still felt compelled to say, "Okay, but if it's still bothering you after that, come back so I can do those x-rays."

Ryomaru didn't look like he was going to agree.  Nezumi nudged him with her elbow, and the hanyou snorted.  "Whatever.  Let's go, Nez."

Kichiro lounged in the doorway as Nezumi and Ryomaru headed out of the office.  He waited until he heard the door close before he sighed, rubbing his forehead.  "Belle-chan!" he called, knowing that she would hear him.  "I'd like a word."

He didn't wait to see if she would comply or not.  Turning on his heel, he crossed the room to his desk and flopped down in his chair.

She had bravado, he gave her that.  She swept into the office with her head held high and the barest hint of a blush still dusting her cheekbones.  "You bellowed?"

'I could probably tolerate her better if she'd keep that pretty little mouth of hers closed,' Kichiro thought with a mental snort.  "You and I both know I didn't bellow."  Her expression stated clearly that she didn't agree, but he ignored that and gestured at the chair behind her.  "Suppose you tell me what you were doing to my brother?"

Bellaniece looked like she wanted to argue with him but must have thought better of it because she sat down, too.  "He came in with the same foul look on his face that you do every morning, and he looks just like you, so when he shot me one of your patented nasty looks, I followed him to see what had crawled up his butt and died."

"Thinking he was me, of course."

Bellaniece smiled insincerely.  "Of course."

"So . . . it didn't occur to you that he doesn't smell like me?"

His question managed to remove a bit of wind from Bellaniece's sails, and she shifted uncomfortably.  "He smells enough like you that it didn't occur to me that he wasn't you, no."

Despite the knowledge that what she said was accurate enough, Kichiro still had to twist the knife.  "Ryomaru's mated, so even if he used to smell like me, then I would think that he doesn't smell enough like me for that to have actually been a mistake."

"And just what are you implying?"

He shrugged.  "Your father's tai-youkai, right?"

"Yes."

"Dog youkai?"

"Yes."

"Which would make you dog hanyou?"

". . . Yes.  Your point?"

Kichiro shrugged.  "Dog youkai and hanyou have the best sense of smell among us.  I doubt you didn't know that Ryomaru wasn't me."

"I don't think I like where you're going with this."

"And I don't think I really care."

"If you despise me as much as you seem to, then why in the world do you insist on making me work for you?  Don't you have anyone else that I could work for, instead?"

That gave Kichiro pause, and he leaned back in his chair.  "I'm one of the more tolerant members of my family," he lied.  "You'd drive the rest of them insane.  That's not really the point, anyway.  You want me to do this surgery for your friend, then you need to do the work for me, not one of my relatives."

Bellaniece looked like she was going to yell at him.  She smiled suddenly and stood up, sweeping around the desk and perching on the edge in front of him.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a dry tone.

Bellaniece reached out, grasped his closest ear, and rubbed gently.

Kichiro flicked his ear to escape her fingers.  "Knock that off," he growled.

"Oh, now, don't be that way," she coaxed with a pout.  "I was just comparing."

"Comparing what?"

Bellaniece giggled.  "Your ears, silly!  Yours are nice, but your brother's are softer . . . Must be whatever conditioner he uses."

Kichiro's mouth fell open as Bellaniece scooted off the desk and sashayed out of the office again.

'Hate to say it, Kich . . . You totally deserved that.'

'Who asked you?'

His youkai laughed.