InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ Discoveries ( Chapter 9 )

Grimacing as she stood on tiptoe and reached up as far as she could, Gin tapped her hand along the shelf to locate the baking powder despite her almost perverse resolve not to use a stepstool.  The apartment was quiet other than the low hum of the box fan she had propped in the window.  The occasional horn punctuated the stillness as she finally managed to extricate the final ingredient she needed for the yellow cake.

"Bellaniece wanted to know if the cake fairy makes yellow cake."

"Cake fairy?  I like that!  Do I have wings?"

"Getting there . . . A few more cakes should do it."

Smiling at the warmth inspired by those words, Gin giggled softly as she dumped butter and measured sugar into the bright yellow glass mixing bowl.  'A few more cakes for Cain . . . then I'll get my wings.'

The telephone rang, startling Gin out of her musings, and she grabbed it carelessly, ignoring the name on the caller ID.  "Hello?"

"Gin, dear, it's Mama . . . I just wanted to tell you thanks for dropping off those groceries at your grandma's."

Hooking the receiver between her shoulder and cheek, Gin's smile widened as she absently mixed the cake batter.  Her mother hadn't been at the shrine when Gin had stopped to drop off the groceries.  Grandma had told her that Kagome had left to take InuYasha a file he'd forgotten, and since Gin was in a hurry to get rid of Montaro, she hadn't stuck around, either.  "You're welcome.  It wasn't a bother."

Kagome was silent a moment, and Gin braced herself for the question she knew was forthcoming.  "Mama says you had a young man with you," Kagome remarked casually—too casually.  Gin could picture her mother, standing in the kitchen and peering out the window to make sure InuYasha wasn't within earshot before asking that little gem.

"Oh, him?  We went for tea after class, and he offered to take me to the grocery store.  It was nothing."

"Really?  So he's a boy from your class?"

Gin winced, knowing that the obvious relief in Kagome's voice was about to disappear.  "Sort of . . . Not really . . . He was . . .  today's model."

"Model?" Kagome echoed.  "I see . . ."

"I didn't really like him, at least not that way . . . He was nice, but . . ." Gin sighed as she made a face and pushed the bowl away to butter and flour the small cake pan.  "It seemed weird.  I mean, I'd just seen him naked, and—"

"Naked?"

Gin blanched, dropping the metal cake pan with an obscenely loud clatter.  "We had to sketch him, is all," she explained.

Kagome laughed.  "I thought as much.  Gin, you know, you really ought to consider how things sound before you say them.  If you had said the same thing to your father . . ."

Biting her bottom lip, she winced.  "I know . . . It didn't sound that bad in my head."

"Oh, I've got to go.  Your father's home, and he doesn't look happy.  He had that meeting with the board of directors, and he was worried that they wouldn't want to increase funding for the martial arts wing he wants to build onto the school . . ."

"Okay, Mama.  Give Papa a kiss for me."

Kagome said she would and hung up.  Gin dropped the receiver into the charging stand and carefully poured the cake batter into the prepared pan.  After arranging the cake in the oven and setting the timer, Gin made quick work of washing the few dishes and wiping off the counter.

Settling down on the sofa with her sketchbook and a sharpened pencil, Gin stared thoughtfully at the model sketch.  His proportions seemed right.  The lines all flowed evenly.  Still she couldn't help but feel that something was off.  If she could figure out what it was, she might be able to fix it . . .

'There's no life in him, Gin.  He's dull and flat; as two dimensional as the paper he's sketched on.'

Gin leaned her head to the side and bit her lip.  'He is, isn't he?  How do I fix that?'

'You could ask Cain . . . He'd be able to tell you if it could be fixed, don't you think?'

Scrunching up her shoulders as she scooted deeper into the sofa cushions, Gin made a face and flipped to a clean page.  'That'd be wrong, wouldn't it?  I mean, no one else in class lives next door to the sensei . . . I'll ask him tomorrow in class . . .'

'That's not the reason, doll.  You don't want to go over there, do you?'

'Don't be absurd!  Why wouldn't I want to go?'

The memory of Cain turning away from her flashed through her mind, and Gin winced.

'That'd be why.  You're afraid he'll do that again, aren't you?  Cain wouldn't close the door in your face, Gin.  Chances are that he didn't even realize you were trying to get his help before.'

As much as she wanted to believe that, she didn't.  No, the odd expression on his face . . . He had known, hadn't he?  And he had deliberately turned away from her.

Why had it been, that she'd thought he was so close?  At the café, she thought she'd felt him near.  Outside the grocery, she could have sworn she felt his presence.  As troubling to her now as it had been comforting to her then, she couldn't help but wonder just why she would have thought she'd sensed him.

'We saw him, doll.  You know you did.  You saw him on the street.'

Gin wrinkled her nose, dragging the pencil over the paper but not seeing exactly what she was drawing.  'That's not possible though.  Unless he'd followed us, he wouldn't have known where we were.'

'Maybe he did.'

'Did what?'

'Follow you.'

'Why would he do that?'

'I don't know . . . the same reason he broke something after you left the classroom with Montaro?'

The pencil stopped moving as Gin slowly lifted her gaze.  She'd heard the loud crash, certainly.  She hadn't stopped to wonder what it had been, though . . .

'Maybe someone dropped something.'

'And you believe that?  You know as well as I do; that sound was too loud to have been an accident, and you know as well as I do; that sound came from Cain's classroom.'

'He doesn't have a reason to do that,' she reasoned as she tossed the sketchpad onto the coffee table and dropped the pencil on it.  Uncurling herself as she stood up, Gin shook her head as she shuffled back to the kitchen to whip up the frosting.  'I mean, I could understand if we were . . . whatever, but he's just my teacher.  He'd have no reason to follow me.'

'I don't know . . . I hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure he was.'

'Why would he do that?  It doesn't make sense.'

'Your father and brothers threaten to maim any guy who comes over to take you on a date, and you think that Cain following you makes no sense?  Doesn't Cain have a daughter close to your age?  Sure, maybe a little younger.  Still . . .'

Gin wasn't sure which was worse: the idea that Cain might have followed her or the reason it made sense.

'No,' she thought as she pulled the cake out of the oven and turned off the buzzing timer.  'Cain wasn't following me . . . He couldn't have been.'

'I think he was, Gin.'

She swallowed hard as she set the cake in the refrigerator to cool.  'If he was, then he's really no different from everyone else, is he?'

Her youkai didn't answer.

Kichiro leaned against the opened garage doorway, staring idly over the treetops as he watched the sun sinking.  He'd brought his car over to have Nezumi change the oil since he, unlike his brother, saw the need to make sure such things were done.  Though he rarely drove the car, he did like to make sure it was kept up, and even if he didn't, Nezumi tended to grumble at him till he did something about it.

He'd gotten back from his run through the forest in time to see Ryomaru say goodbye to Nezumi before he headed out to his cooking class—something that Kichiro wasn't likely to forget any time soon—but he'd been too struck by the rare show of tenderness from his brother that he hadn't had the heart to break up the mood with a smart-ass remark at the time.  Ryomaru had hugged Nezumi and kissed her cheek, cuddling with her for a few moments before whispering something to her that Kichiro was probably better off not hearing since Nezumi's cheeks pinked but her smile brightened.  Then with a smug grin in Kichiro's direction, Ryomaru had sprinted off into the forest, heading toward Tokyo with the careless assurance that he'd be home in a few hours.

'Be honest, Kich . . . you want something like that.'

Kichiro crossed his arms over his chest and let his gaze sweep over the horizon.  'Maybe.'

'Maybe?  Keh!  You want it so bad you can almost taste it.  Ain't no use in trying to deny it.  You know it's true.  For once in your life you're jealous of Ryomaru.'

'That's ridiculous.  I'm not jealous of Ryo . . . I'll find my mate eventually.'

'Yeah . . . and maybe you already have.'

Eyes narrowing dangerously, Kichiro stifled a growl.  'That's so far from being funny that it's almost funny . . . Almost.  Completely inaccurate, of course, but almost amusing.'

'All right, so you two didn't have that great a first meeting, but hell, you haven't given her a chance since then, have you?'

'She is absolutely unacceptable in every single way . . . besides that, she likes Ryomaru's ears better.  They're softer.'

'Oh ball, if you tell me you're all bent over that one comment . . .'

'Did you hear what she said?  Did you?'

'Uh, yeah, I did, Kich.  I was there, too, remember?'

'. . . Damn it.'

Nezumi propelled the creeper board out from under the car and watched him for a moment.  He could feel her curious stare, could tell she wanted to say something.  He didn't ask since he knew Nezumi well enough to know that it was probably a question he didn't particularly want to answer.

"You going to tell me what's on your mind or are you going to pull a Ryo and just stand there looking irritated all night?"

Kichiro shrugged and grinned.  "Pull a Ryo?  Are you kidding?"

Nezumi sat up on the creeper and hooked her arms around her raised knees.  "Come on, Kich.  All this brooding lately isn't really like you."

"It's nothing."

"If that were true, you'd have told me what the 'nothing' is.  Give it up, Kich.  I know you almost as well as I know Ryo."

Heaving a sigh, Kichiro had to concede that point.  Nezumi did know him that well, didn't she?  "It's not bothersome as much as it's irritating the hell out of me," he confessed.

Nezumi shook her head and pushed herself off the creeper.  "All right, I'll bite.  What's irritating you?"

"It's not a 'what', it's a 'her', and I believe you and Ryo have both met her already."

"Ah, the mad ear grabber?  Yeah, Ryo isn't too fond of her."

"Nah, I didn't figure he would be," Kichiro agreed.

Nezumi took his hand and dragged him toward the door.  "Come on.  I'm thirsty."

Kichiro didn't argue as Nezumi led him into the house and dug two sodas out of the refrigerator and handed him one before digging into a bowl of rice crackers.  With a mischievous grin, she tossed one at Kichiro and laughed when he caught it in his mouth despite the chagrined scowl on his face.

"You're going to torture your pups, aren't you?" Kichiro grumbled after he swallowed the cracker.

"Probably," she agreed, popping a cracker into her mouth.  "Then again, you're assuming that we'll ever have pups.  Now tell me, what is it about the mad ear grabber that's bugging you?"

"What do you mean, assuming you have pups?"

Nezumi made a face and took her time pushing the marble into the bottle of soda.  "We're talking about you, not Ryo and me . . . So, answer my question."

Kichiro started to argue but thought better of it.  Nezumi was standing much too close to the bowl of crackers for his comfort, and unless he wanted to end up playing cracker-catch for the next half hour, he'd do well to let that drop.  "She annoys the hell out of me."

Nezumi frowned and took a long quaff of her soda.  "So . . . that's it?  She annoys the hell out of you?  Then just don't think about her."

"Keh!  You think I haven't tried that?  I don't think you know how this works, Nez . . . I can't just stop thinking about someone when she annoys me.  Nope, I have to stew over it and let it fester until it crawls under my skin and, for all intents and purposes, drives me mad."

"Okay, that's one of the stupidest things you've ever said to me, Kich.  What'd she say that was so awful that you can't get it out of your head?"

Kichiro snorted.  "She said Ryo's ears are softer."

"Excuse me?"

Kichiro made a face and snorted again.  "She said Ryomaru's damn ears are softer than mine."

Nezumi coughed indelicately and set her soda on the counter.  He could tell she was struggling not to laugh.  His scowl darkened when she chuckled.  "And that's why you're so irritated?  Because you think Ryomaru's ears are softer than yours?"

"No!" he snarled then winced.  "Yeah . . . Oh hell, it shouldn't even be a fucking issue, should it?  Damn it, we're twins—identical twins!  That'd be like saying his penis is—"

"Let's not go there, Kich," Nezumi cut in, her cheeks blossoming in embarrassed color.

"Well, it's true."

Nezumi sighed.  "Come here."

"What?"

She rolled her eyes and waved her hand.  "Let me feel your ears, Kich."

Kichiro hesitated a moment but reluctantly stepped forward, stooping down so Nezumi could easily reach his ears.

Her fingers were tentative at first, barely rubbing over the sensitive hairs.  It tickled, and he twitched his ears.  Nezumi giggled and brought up her free hand to rub his other ear, too.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Nezumi's fingers stilled for a moment as she leaned to the side to peek around Kichiro as Ryomaru stomped into the kitchen.  Kichiro straightened up quickly, wincing since Nezumi's fingers were mid-rub.  "The mad ear grabber said your ears are softer," Nezumi explained.

Ryomaru's suspicious scowl shifted into one of grudging interest.  "Oh, yeah?  And?"

Nezumi wrinkled her nose.  "Exactly the same.  She was just trying to bug you, Kich, and you let her do it."

"I didn't care," Kichiro assured them both as Ryomaru and Nezumi exchanged knowing looks.  "Like it matters!  Keh!"

Ryomaru watched his brother storm out of the house and wisely hid his amusement until after he heard the door slam.  "What was that all about?"

Nezumi grabbed the empty soda bottles and dumped them in the recycling bin.  "She's gotten to him."

Ryomaru snorted.  "I don't fucking like her, the grabby wench."

"Well, she did say your ears were softer," Nezumi reminded him.

Ryomaru almost smiled.  "Ah, yeah, that . . ."

"Yeah, 'that'."

"So . . .?" he prompted.

"'So', what?"

"So, are they?"

Nezumi laughed as she turned off the kitchen light.  "Of course they are," she agreed.

Ryomaru finally smiled as he followed his mate into the living room.

Cain prowled around the apartment like a caged animal.  He needed to get out, to do something, to rid himself of the pent-up frustration before he did something stupid.  Alternating between irritation that he'd let Gin go with Montaro and disgust that he'd actually trailed her coupled with the suspicion that he cared just a little more than he ought to, he'd only managed to work himself into a mindset so volatile that just one word would likely send him careening off the proverbial edge.

'Face it, Cain.  We're in serious trouble.'

Cain flexed his claws, cracked his knuckles, and continued pacing.

'I mean, you completely ignored my warnings, and look where it got us.  I told you she was trouble, didn't I?  I told you to keep the hell away from her.  Now look at you!  You're ready to tear that pup limb from limb, and why?  Because he touched Gin's elbow!'

'Yeah, well, he had no business touching anything on her, now did he?  Scrawny little bastard . . .'

'Have you changed your mind about keeping the promise you made Isabelle?'

Growling at the suggestion that it would have even occurred to him to do such a thing, Cain dug his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one.

'What'll you do, Cain?  Hunt down every pup who comes anywhere near her?  Think, will you?  You've got no right to interfere.  She's not your daughter, she's not your lover, she's not your mate . . . She's nothing to you.  She's just a pretty girl with a good heart who bakes cakes for you because you were nice to her one time.'

Damned if that sat well with him, either.

His youkai was quiet for a few minutes while Cain willed his temper to calm.  Standing by the window staring out at the rising stars that were pathetically out of his reach, he'd almost gotten a handle on his emotions when his youkai spoke again.  'Would it be a terrible thing, you think?'

'Would what be a terrible thing?'

'Her . . . Gin . . . Would it be so terrible to want to be with her?'

Cain winced, smashing the cigarette out in the glass ashtray on the window sill.  'No, it wouldn't be . . . and yeah, it would.'

He almost missed the knock on the door.  He couldn't mistake her presence.  He wasn't sure when he had become so attuned to her, and yet he was struck once again by the familiarity of her as he strode over to open the door.

Gin stood in the hallway with a chocolate frosted cake and an inscrutable look on her face.  He'd seen that same look just before she left the classroom with Montaro, and he was no closer to being able to read it now than he had been at the time.  "How was your date?" he asked, unable to mask the disdain in his voice at the acknowledgement of the intimacy.

Golden eyes slowly rose to lock with his, a strange emotion flashing behind her gaze.  "It was fine.  He took me for tea, and I dropped some things off at Mama and Papa's house."

"They live at the shrine?" he asked before he realized just what he'd said.

Gin narrowed her gaze, and he recognized the emotion that had been so foreign to him moments before it spilled over.  "I knew it!  I knew it!  I didn't want to believe it but . . . Damn it!  You followed me, didn't you?"

"I didn't—I wouldn't—Hell yes, I did!" he growled.

The temper Cain hadn't realized Gin possessed exploded.  "I expect that kind of thing from Papa or my baka brothers!  I expect it from my uncle or my cousin, but you?  You, Cain?  Why you, too?  Do you all think I'm stupid?  Do you all think that I'm just some idiotic little girl who'll let myself be taken advantage of by the first baka who comes around and tries to sweet-talk me?  I'm not a child!  I'm not a pup, and I don't appreciate it; not from you!"

He opened his mouth to explain.  Gin shook her head furiously, eyes glowing, burning him before he could answer.  As if she needed to vent her frustration or die, she smashed the cake into Cain's chest with an irate growl and let the plate clatter on the floor.  Cain stared, dumbfounded, as the sweet, gentle girl he thought he knew disappeared only to be replaced by a seething, angry woman whose voice was rising in pitch with every word she screamed at him.

'Oh, my God,' his youkai blustered.  'What the hell . . .?'

"Gin, calm down, I—"

She wasn't finished.  "You what?  You ignored me when I tried to get you to help me in the beginning, but you followed me anyway?  Why?  Why did you follow me?"

"Because!" he yelled back, temper careening out of control.  "Because, damn it, that little bastard didn't deserve to be anywhere near you!"

"Oh, you sound just like my father and my stupid brothers!  Do me a favor, Cain!  The next time you think that poor little Gin-chan can't take care of herself, just call them will you?  At least it's expected of them!  They always act stupid, but at least they have a right to!  Let me get their numbers for you.  It'll make it that much easier!"

He stomped after her when she whipped around on her heel and barreled back toward her apartment.  His youkai was babbling in the back of his mind, but his irritation was too strong, his control stretched too far, and he couldn't hear a word of it.

"Will you calm down and listen?" he bellowed, catching her door with the palm of his hand as she tried to slam it in his face.  He swung it closed after him as Gin stomped over to grab the Rolodex beside the telephone.

"Listen to what?"

"Listen to me!  It's not what you think."

"And just what do I think, Cain?"

"I wasn't following you because I thought you couldn't take care of yourself!"

"Then why?"

"Because you shouldn't have to, damn it!"

Gin glanced up, cell phone in her hands.  The outrage slowly drained out of her expression, but what was left made him cringe inwardly, made him wish that she had stayed angry instead.  He'd seen that look before, the one on her face.  Eyes overly bright, nostrils quivering as her lips trembled, she slowly shook her head as her ears drooped.  "I thought you were my friend, Cain."

He stepped toward her but stopped, wincing as her eyes glazed over with unshed tears.  "Gin, I . . . Don't cry."

The tears spilled over, and she choked back a sob as she dropped the cell phone onto the table.  "I ruined your shirt!" she whimpered, "two shirts in one d-d-day!"

'My shirt?' he thought as he closed the distance between them.  Gently lifting her chin, he clumsily brushed tears off her cheeks which only made her cry harder.  "No, Gin, it's fine!  I . . . I hate this shirt, really!  Was going to get rid of it anyway . . . Stop, okay?  Please stop . . ."

She choked back another sob and whimpered as she tried to staunch the flow of tears.  Cain winced again, babbling about how much he hated this particular shirt and really, she had done him a favor, after all.  It did the trick, though, and Gin uttered a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, but the hurt receded from her gaze, and that was enough for Cain.

"I . . . I'll make you another cake," she offered, swiping the back of her hand over her eyes as she hurried off to the kitchen.  "I'm sorry . . . I don't know why I did that.  I could buy you a new shirt, or—"

"It's fine, Gin.  Don't worry about the cake."

"But it was a yellow cake, and I made it for Bellaniece . . ."

He could smell the tears rising again, and he quickly shook his head.  "You know, she'd love that, if it's no trouble."

Gin managed a weak laugh, and then she hiccupped.  "No tr-tr-trouble."

"Okay . . . I'm going to go change my shirt."

She stopped, a cloud of uncertainty darkening her features for a moment.  "You want some tea?  I could make some while the cake's baking."

Cain nodded and jerked the door open, offering Gin a little smile before he stepped back into the hallway and made a face at the cake mess.

'Cain?'

'What?'

' . . . I think . . . I think we're in trouble.'

Carefully stepping over the mess, Cain retrieved the broom and dustpan out of the utility closet in his kitchen.  'Yep,' he agreed slowly as he started cleaning up the cake.  'We're in trouble, all right . . .'