InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ Inking Izayois ( Chapter 30 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Gin hitched her book bag over her shoulder and grinned as Nezumi and Sierra waved her over to the table at the small bistro.  "Good afternoon!" she greeted as she dropped her bag beside the chair and sat down.  "It's been awhile since we've done this!  I'm so glad we could get together!"

Sierra sighed and wrinkled her nose as she handed Gin a menu.  "Yeah, well, I've little doubt that I wouldn't have gotten out today had the keeper not been locked into a meeting."  She rolled her eyes but laughed.  "He's so weird when I'm pregnant.  You'd think that he'd realize that they're not so bad after the first one."

Nezumi snorted.  "Yeah, there's definitely a reason we're not having one anytime soon."

"Are you and Ryomaru ever going to have children?" Sierra asked.

Nezumi blushed.  "We haven't talked about it."

"Really?"

"Nope."

"Well, I had an ultrasound yesterday," Sierra remarked casually.

"Oh?" Gin breathed, dropping the menu in lieu of Sierra's statement.  "And?"

Sierra giggled.  "And," she began, patting her belly proudly, "Toga seems to prefer girls."

"Oh, kami," Nezumi groaned.  "Another girl?"

Sierra nodded.  "Yep, another girl.  Toga tried to act like he was disappointed that we weren't having his son yet, but, well, you know Toga."

Gin rolled her eyes.  "That's ridiculous!  What does it matter, girl or boy?  It's silly!  He adores his little girls."

Sierra shrugged and sipped her water.  "Of course he does.  His father, on the other hand . . . He seems to think that it's a matter of life and death, that we have a son quickly."

Gin grimaced.  "I suppose it'd be different.  I mean, he is responsible for making sure that the heritage of the tai-youkai will be continued."  She frowned.  "How does that work, anyway?  Would that make your son the tai-hanyou?"

Sierra laughed.  "I have no idea.  Toga tried to explain it to me before, but it didn't really make sense."

Conversation stopped long enough for the girls to place their orders.  Gin sat back and giggled.  "How many more times are you going to try to have a son, then?"

Sierra's smile faded, and she slowly shook her head.  "Honestly?  I was kind of hoping that we'd be done for awhile.  I'm happy with the children we've got, and this one . . . and I like Toga a lot more when he's not trying to make me rest."

Nezumi crunched a piece of ice.  "I don't know . . . I think boys are the way to go.  I don't think I'd know what to do with a girl."

"Oh, you'd be fine!" Sierra insisted.  "Besides, boys are more rambunctious, from what I've been told."

"I want a houseful of pups!" Gin remarked.  "Lots of them . . . seven or eight . . . Maybe more later."

"Seven or eight?" Nezumi echoed, unable to hide the sheer incredulity on her face.  "You've got to be kidding . . ."

"It wouldn't be that bad!" she insisted.  "Then again, I think I'd be perfectly happy, at home with the pups, and I know you two probably wouldn't be."

Nezumi made a face.  "Ryo would be.  I don't think he wants babies so much as he wants playmates, though."

Gin shook her head, felt her ears flatten as she stifled a sigh.  "Is it weird, do you think?  That I wouldn't mind staying home?"

"No, not weird," Sierra commented.  "I have days when I think I'd like that more; the quiet life with just the girls and Toga . . . but I like my job, too . . ."

"If that's what you'd want, then it's not weird, at all," Nezumi agreed.  "That's probably the main reason we haven't really thought about having them yet.  Ryo might say he'd be better about not trying to tell me what I can and can't do, but I can't see him letting me work while I was pregnant, either."

"Maybe he'd be okay with it," Gin said though her tone lacked any real conviction.

Nezumi laughed.  "See?  You don't even think that it's possible, but thanks for trying to reassure me."

Sierra sighed as she rubbed her belly.  "Four more months," she said.  "That isn't really as long as it sounds, is it?"

Gin giggled and patted Sierra's hand as Nezumi winced and slowly shook her head in commiseration.

"Oh, well, enough about me . . . Tell me, Gin!  How are your art classes coming along?" Sierra demanded, waving off the girls' concern.

"They're great!" Gin assured her.  "I love them!  You know, Cain knows so much about art and history . . . He's really remarkable, and . . ." she trailed off as she glanced from Sierra to Nezumi and back again.  Sierra looked like she knew something and was dying to share it.  Nezumi looked dubious.  "What's going on?" she finally asked.

"You call your teacher by his first name?" Sierra remarked as the waitress set their plates down on the table.

"Oh, uh, well . . . I'm his aide, too, and he lives next door . . ."

"He does?" Nezumi asked, her chopsticks clattering against her plate as she stared at Gin.  "Hmm . . ."

"But you still call him by his first name," Sierra went on.

"He said I could," Gin replied weakly.  "I mean, I didn't just—"

Sierra giggled and waved Gin's concern away.  "I was teasing, Gin-chan, I promise!  Anyway, he seems like a rather shy man."

Gin picked at her food, pushing aside the vegetables on her plate to find a hunk of pork.  "I guess so, when you first meet him.  He's not really, though . . . He has a nice laugh.  I like it a lot."

"Your father's still a little irritated at your mother over him," Nezumi pointed out as she lifted her chopsticks again and took a bite of broccoli.

"Ah, well, Toga was a little sore over that, too," Sierra admitted.

"You're telling me," Nezumi agreed.  "Ryo's still pouting over it."

Gin fell silent, unsure why it bothered her that the others were discussing Cain in such a favorable light.

'You don't know why, Gin?  Really?'

She chewed a bite and shook her head, staring at her plate as she tried to ignore the disgruntling feelings.  'No . . . Should I?'

'I think you're jealous.'

'Jealous?' Gin echoed, choking on the bite she was trying to swallow.  'I'm not jealous!  They're all happily mated, and—'

'And that sick, twisted feeling in your stomach is jealousy.  Ugly, isn't it?'

'I can't be jealous of them!' she argued.  'That would imply that there was something to be jealous of, and there isn't . . . and even if there were a reason, it's not like I have any real claim on him . . .'

'It has to mean something, doesn't it?  He kissed you.'

'One time,' Gin countered.  'He kissed me one time, and . . . well, he hasn't really wanted to kiss me since, has he?'

"Gin-chan?  Is something wrong?"

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Gin forced a smile as she met Sierra's questioning gaze.  "It's nothing," she muttered as Nezumi set her chopsticks aside.

"Are you sure?  We're fairly good listeners."

She sighed, ears drooping as she sat back in her chair and stared at the barely touched plate.  "It's just . . ."

"Just what?" Nezumi prodded gently.

Gin shook her head.  "Nothing.  Forget it."

Nezumi and Sierra exchanged meaningful glances that Gin didn't see since she was frowning at her food.  "You know . . . If this is about any certain guys . . . we wouldn't tell anyone, if you didn't want us to," Sierra finally ventured.

"It's not that," Gin said, her frown deepening.  "It's . . . I don't know what it is  . . ."

"Sounds serious," Nezumi added.

"How . . . How do you get your mates to kiss you?" she blurted, cheeks pinking as she felt both women sit up a little straighter.

"Kissing?" Sierra echoed.

"Oh, I'm so not telling Ryomaru about this," Nezumi mumbled with a wince.

"Who are you trying to get to kiss you?"

"No one!" Gin insisted.  "I just meant . . . uh . . ."

"It's him, isn't it?  The North American stripes?" Sierra teased.

"Ah, yes . . . Good choice," Nezumi agreed.

Gin grimaced.  "Be serious!  I need help!"

Sierra laughed.  "I'm being serious, Gin!  He's hot.  Definitely kiss-worthy."

"Well, has he kissed you before?" Nezumi asked reasonably.

Gin didn't answer but her blush must have been enough because Nezumi 'ahh'ed' while Sierra giggled almost maniacally.

"Was it nice?" Sierra demanded.

"That nice, huh?" Nezumi mused when Gin's blush darkened.

"You know, if he already kissed you, you're perfectly allowed to instigate the next kiss," Sierra replied.

"Oh, I couldn't!" Gin exclaimed.  "I . . . well, I . . . I didn't exactly kiss him back."

"What, exactly, did you do?" Nezumi countered.

Gin wrung her hands.  "I . . . I just sort of . . . sat there."

"Hmm, then you definitely need another shot at that," Sierra decided, "and this time, kiss him back, Gin!"

Nezumi sighed.  "I don't think I'm that much help on this one.  Ryo . . . doesn't mind kissing."

Sierra waved that off and giggled.  "Try a romantic movie," she suggested.  "I know Toga gets all kissy . . . I think he gets bored with the movie and wants to distract me.  Danged if it doesn't work, too . . ."

"Blame it on the movie," Nezumi scoffed.  "Romantic movies?  Ugh . . ."

"Hey, whatever works," Sierra retorted.  "Has he tried to kiss you again?"

"But that's the thing," she forced herself to say.  "He hasn't tried to kiss me since.  Maybe he just thought I wasn't good at it.  Maybe he thought it would be a waste of time."

"I doubt that," Sierra said with a shake of her head.  "Think about it: he's youkai, and he didn't strike me as the type to go around kissing girls for the sake of it.  No, if he kissed you, it was for a reason."

"What happened to his wife?" Nezumi asked suddenly.

Gin sighed.  "I don't know, exactly.  I know she died when Bellaniece was an infant, but I don't know much more than that."

Sierra scowled as she turned the water glass in her fingers.  The soft clink of the melting ice cubes filled the silence before she spoke.  "You know, Gin . . . You should be careful."

"Careful?  Of what?" Nezumi asked.

"It's just . . . I remember, you know?  When Sesshoumaru came to get me . . . Seeing Toga like that . . ." she shook her head and tried to smile.  "We weren't even mated at the time.  I know it's been years since Cain's mate died, but still . . . Can it be that simple to forget?"

Gin coughed and shrugged, fought to hide the worry Sierra's words caused her.  She'd wondered that, herself.  Hearing someone else say the same thing . . . "I don't know," she finally said.  "It doesn't really matter.  We're just friends, anyway."  She nodded slowly, wishing she knew whether she was trying to convince herself or Sierra and Nezumi.  "Just . . . good friends."

"Speaking from experience, Gin-chan," Nezumi stated flatly, "you don't kiss someone who is just a friend.  I learned that the hard way."


Bellaniece stood on tiptoe to peer over the shelves in the small convenience store.  Spotting Kichiro four aisles over, she suppressed the urge to giggle as the hanyou glowered at the shelf he was supposedly browsing.  He was really mad.

It had started innocently enough.  They'd gotten into a discussion on ceremonial colors whereupon Kichiro had admitted that his was violet.

"Purple's pretty," Bellaniece remarked as she tossed the Styrofoam container that held the scrap remnants of her cheeseburger and french-fry meal.

"I didn't say it was purple," he grouched.  "I said it was violet.  Huge difference, wench.  Huge."

"Violet . . . purple . . . violet purple . . . just plain purple . . . It's all good."

"It's not the same, and it's not 'all good'," he growled.  "Violet is violet.  Purple is for little girls."

"Hmm, are you implying that I'm a little girl again?" Bellaniece demanded, making a point of staring down at her lavender dress.

"If the shoe fits, Belle-chan . . ."

"Careful or you'll end up eating that shoe."

"Uh huh . . . like I'd be scared of you."

Bellaniece narrowed her gaze on the hanyou and slowly shook her head as she stalked off toward the stairs.  "All right, Dr. Frankenstein.  We'll see about that."

Kichiro had his nose buried behind his laptop computer when Bellaniece had come downstairs awhile later.  She grabbed her purse off the table and headed for the door.  "Where do you think you're going?" he asked without looking up from the computer monitor.

Bellaniece rolled her eyes.  "I'm going to meet some friends."

"Hmm," he drawled.  "No, you're not."

"I'm not?" she echoed.  "And why would I not?"

"You're not because I said you're not," he grumbled.  "Can't you see I'm busy?  I don't have time to go running all over hell's half-acre with you; not tonight, so you might as well turn your ass around right now and march back upstairs, because we're not going."

"Funny," Bellaniece bit out as she jerked the door open, "I don't recall asking you whether I could go or not, and I certainly don't recall asking you to come with me."

"Do it, and you'll regret it, Belle-chan," he remarked.

Bellaniece made a face.  "Just who do you think you are?  You can't tell me what I can and can't do!  I'll have you know, my father—"
"Your father left me responsible for you, and as such, that makes me your guardian, and as said guardian, I'm telling you, you're not going!"

She winced as he snapped his laptop closed and tossed it aside on the sofa before shooting to his feet and crossing his arms over his chest.  Regaining her composure, Bellaniece squared her shoulders and slowly turned to glare at the stubborn hanyou.  "I'm not going far; just into town to meet up with my friends.  You do know what friends are, right?  Those things you don't have because you're, well . . . an ass."

"You walk out that door, and I swear on all that is holy, you'll regret it."

"The only thing I regret is being suck out here with you."

"Yeah, whatever.  Close the door and get upstairs.  Now."

Bellaniece didn't want to comply.  The impassive expression on Kichiro's face convinced her not to argue.  With what could only be described as a petulant glare, she slammed the door and tossed her purse onto the table before whipping around on her heel and stomping back toward the stairs.  She didn't hear Kichiro sit back down till she hit the top of the landing . . .

And it probably would have ended there had Bellaniece not been so bored that she ended up rummaging through a forgotten box in the back of her closet.  Filled with odds and ends, Bellaniece giggled softly as she stared at the items that reminded her of things she'd left behind long ago.  Slumber parties with her few girl friends back in a time before petty jealously had driven them away, Cain had tolerated the incursions with a father's indulgence for his daughter.  He'd taken her to a small drug store, had let her buy little girl makeup kits and nail polishes, pretty hair ribbons and clips made from molded plastic with sparkles.  Then he had sat at his desk most of the night with his hand over his nose and mouth as the girls had made each other 'pretty', and he'd never, ever complained.

Sitting in the middle of her floor turning a bottle of hideous purple polish over and over in her hand, Bellaniece smiled just a little.  She shook the bottle to mix the polish and pushed the box back into the closet.  'Violet, huh . . .'

Kichiro might not have been so irritated with her, had she stopped with just the painted claws.  It was his own fault, wasn't it?  He'd fallen asleep on the sofa—in no-man's land, as far as she was concerned.  How she managed to keep from laughing as she painted his claws and then his toes was enough to boggle her mind.  That just wasn't enough for her—oh, no—she had to add the finishing touch, and that finishing touch was what likely had Kichiro in the black mood he was in at the moment . . .

One year for Halloween, Bellaniece had wanted to be a vampire, and she'd used about ten packets of Kool-Aid to color her hair for the occasion.  It washed out, sure . . . after about a week.  Cain hadn't been amused, and it had been a long time before he'd bought the drink mix again.

Curse Kichiro's luck.  There was grape Kool-Aid in the cupboard, and Bellaniece had used it, which meant that he also had pretty violet streaks shot through his silver hair—and tipping his ears.  Bellaniece had been secretly amazed that he'd stayed asleep long enough for her to paint the tips of his ears with a Q-tip.  The result was very nice, she had to admit.  'Maybe I should be a beautician . . .'

The topper, however, was the pictures she'd taken with her cell phone that she'd sent to Gin.  Kichiro didn't know about those, which was probably for the best since he was really unimpressed when he'd woken up to find that Bellaniece had played beauty salon with him.  So angry that he'd barely been able to speak, the only words he uttered as he pointed his pretty purple claw at the door, was, "Car . . . now . . . Get this off me . . ."

And that was the reason they were in the convenience store in the middle of the night.  Nail polish remover would get rid of the paint, of course.  Bellaniece tried not to think about just how angry he'd be when he figured out that the Kool-Aid color would last a little longer than just one washing . . .

"Hey, Dr. Izayoi?  You want the regular nail polish remover, the stuff with aloe for your nails, or the one with keratin to strengthen?" she called out, loudly enough for everyone in the tiny store to overhear her.  Kichiro could be thankful that there weren't many people, she figured.

His glowering gaze rose to lock with hers as his cheeks reddened just a little.  "Whatever works, little girl," he snarled under his breath.

'He's going to kill you, you know it?'

Bellaniece grinned as she grabbed a small bottle of nail polish remover and a bag of cotton balls.  'Yeah, he'll try.'

'You girlified him, Belle!'

'Yeah, I did . . . isn't he pretty?'

'Yes, he is, but that's hardly the point!  He's furious—absolutely furious—probably more furious than he's ever been with you . . .'

Bellaniece wrinkled her nose and deliberately took her time as she moved toward the cash register.  'It's just a little polish and stuff . . . he's been much nastier to me than I've ever been to him.  He's a big boy.  He'll get over it.'

Bellaniece set the items on the counter and grabbed a candy bar.  She knew the girl behind the counter.  She was one of the girls who used to come to Bellaniece's slumber parties, way back when.  "Hi, Cindy," Bellaniece greeted with a cautious smile.

The girl didn't even try to return the pleasantry.  "When'd you get back?" she asked instead, staring over Bellaniece's shoulder as she passed the items over the barcode scanner.

"A few days ago," Bellaniece answered.  "I'll be going back soon, though."

"Hmm, what a shame," Cindy commented without even trying to hide the cattiness in her tone as her condescending gaze shifted to Bellaniece.

Bellaniece forced a smile and held out a ten dollar bill.  Cindy took it, careful not to touch Bellaniece's hand . . . or maybe Bellaniece just imagined that . . .

"You about ready?"

Bellaniece bristled as Kichiro's youki brushed over hers.  She hadn't heard him approach, so intent on trying to make small talk that she hadn't realized he was directly behind her.

"Friend of yours?" Cindy asked, her eyes flicking over Bellaniece to Kichiro and back again, dropping Bellaniece's change onto the counter.

"You could say that," Kichiro replied stiffly as Bellaniece stuffed the money into her purse.

Bellaniece took the plastic bag and nodded, not daring to look at Kichiro as she turned to leave.

"I'll see you around," Cindy called as Kichiro shouldered open the glass door.

"I wouldn't count on it," Kichiro growled as Bellaniece swept past him and hurried to the car.

'He's even angrier,' Bellaniece's youkai pointed out as Kichiro pulled out of the parking lot onto the street.  Hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white and a menacing scowl on his face; he seemed a lot more foreboding in the dancing shadows of the streetlights they passed under on their way through the sleeping town.

'He's always angry,' Bellaniece thought with a scowl as she stared out the window at the darkened landscape.

'Be careful, Belle . . . you've pushed him enough for one night, don't you think?'

Bellaniece didn't answer.  The silence in the car was almost stifling, and Bellaniece had to bite her cheek to keep from saying anything since he wouldn't welcome her commentary at the moment.

"Why'd you let her do that?" Kichiro finally demanded, his tone tight, clipped.

"Let who do what?"

He snorted.  "Keh!  That girl in the store . . . she was mean as hell to you.  Why'd you let her do that?"

Bellaniece shrugged.  "Girls are mean," she said simply, "and I'm used to it."

"Don't do that again," he growled as he parked the car in front of the mansion.

"Do what?"

"Don't let anyone talk to you like that.  You don't deserve it."  Kichiro made a face as he caught sight of his painted claws.  "All right, maybe you deserve it, but not from the likes of her."

Bellaniece stopped abruptly, frowning at Kichiro's back as he let himself into the house as she slowly shook her head.  'He doesn't . . . He was angry . . . at Cindy?'  She scuffed her toe in the gravel driveway.  'But . . . Why?'


'I'm forgetting something; I know I am.'

Cain wiped his eye with the back of his wrist and stepped away to eye the sculpture he'd been working on.  Crossing his arms over his chest with his hands turned out to keep the damp clay off himself; he cocked his head to the side and rubbed his chin against his bare shoulder.

'I don't think you forgot anything.  Sculpture looks good so far.'

Shaking his head as he heaved a sigh, Cain carefully wrapped a damp towel around the unfinished sculpture before wrapping a sheet of plastic over it.  He knew he was forgetting something, and he had a feeling that it didn't have anything at all to do with his work.

He stooped down to rinse his hands in the water bucket he kept close by whenever he was working, washing off most of the clay in there to keep it out of the sink before heading for the bathroom to wash with soap.  Grimacing as he stared at his bare chest, he pulled the cloth covered rubber band from his hair, giving up on the idea that he wouldn't need a shower.

Actually he never wore a shirt when he worked, for that reason.  In the beginning, long ago, he would forget from time to time, but he'd ruined too many clothes that way—shirts especially—that it was habit now, to take off his shirt before he started working.  Bodies were washable.  Clay was hell to get out of fabric though.

He turned on the shower and stripped off his pants before adjusting the water temperature and slipping into the tiny stall.  Unsure why he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he really had forgotten something, Cain scowled as he made quick work of washing off the flecks of dried clay then shampooing his hair.

By the time he was finished, Cain was positive that he really was forgetting something.  The nagging suspicion had grown, and when the muffled knock sounded on his door, Cain barely had time to grab a towel to drape around his hips on his way out of the bathroom.

"Hi, Cain, I—" Gin cut off abruptly when she got a good glimpse at what Cain was—or wasn't—wearing.  Golden eyes widening as her face reddened though she didn't look away, the girl pressed her hands to her chest as her breath hissed out in a gust.

"Uh, oh, um . . . Hey," he said, tugging the towel up a little higher on his hips.

Gin opened and closed her mouth a few times without making a sound.

"I'll . . . get dressed," he mumbled, leaving the door open for her to let herself in.  Wincing as he stalked into his bedroom to pull on the first pair of pants he laid hands on, Cain grabbed a button-down shirt and sighed, rubbing his face as he headed back for the living room again.

Gin seemed to have pulled herself together by the time he returned.  Sitting on the sofa with a hint of a blush still staining her cheeks, she glanced at him cautiously.  "I'm sorry," she blurted, cheeks pinking a bit more.  "I didn't realize . . . um . . . so . . . You want to see what I did today?"

Cain nodded without really paying attention as he tugged his shirt on.  "Sure."

Gin stood up and shot him an impish grin before turning around and pushing down the edge of her skirt just enough to reveal a tiny fairy tattoo just under her waistline.

"You—What—? Why—? Is—? No-o-o-o," he drawled as he stared, dry mouthed, at the tattoo.

Gin held the elastic edge for a few more moments then let go and sat back down.  "It's one of the new ones—semi-permanent.  It'll stay put for a couple of months, they said."

Cain shook his head as he tried to wrap his brain around both the tattoo as well as what Gin had just said.  "Not . . . permanent?"

Gin made a face.  "Are you kidding?  Papa would kill me if I got a real tattoo . . . Nezumi-chan, Sierra-chan, and I went to the mall after lunch, and they'd just opened this shop, so we each got one."

Cain relaxed just a little.  "What'd they get?"

"Nezumi-chan got a little bone on her ankle, and Sierra-chan got a 'Girl Power' one on her stomach . . . She found out they're having another girl, by the way."

Cain chuckled.  "Another girl, huh?  Bet Sesshoumaru loves that."

"They're happy with their girls," Gin remarked then suddenly snapped her fingers.  "Did the exterminator come by?"

Cain paused as he buttoned the shirt and made a face.  'Damn, that's what I forgot . . .'

He'd assured her that he wouldn't mind letting the exterminator into her apartment so she could meet her family for lunch after class.  When he'd gotten back to his apartment, though, he'd wanted to work, so instead of thinking about the promise he'd made her, he had put his mind on auto-pilot and had completely spaced the arrival of the exterminator.  "Gin, I'm—I—well . . ." He grimaced.  "I forgot."

"Oh . . . I-I-It's okay," she assured him.  "I'll just call and make another appointment."

Cain stuffed his hands into his pockets, feeling like a complete and utter fool.  "I'm sorry."

She waved her hand to dismiss his concern as she dug her cell phone out of her bag and flipped it open.  "Hmm . . . I have a message from Bellaniece," she commented as she retrieved the call.  "Oh, dear," she mumbled, holding the phone in one hand as she fluttered her fingertips over her lips with the other.

"Something wrong?" he asked, sinking down beside Gin and leaning over to peek at the phone.  His eyes widened, too, then narrowed as he blinked at the picture on her cell phone.  He was reasonably sure that the person sleeping on the sofa was Kichiro Izayoi . . . complete with blackish-purple streaks in his silver hair, violet tipped ears, and very, very purple claws . . . Gin hit a button to cycle to the next picture and choked as a very clear image of her brother's painted toenails encompassed the tiny LCD screen.

"Oh . . . Wow . . ." Gin squeaked, dialing a number and hitting the 'send images' button.

"What are you doing?" Cain asked.

Gin cleared her throat.  "Nothing . . . Just thought that Nezumi-chan would get a kick out of those . . ."

"Ah, boy . . . Gin . . . Your brother . . . won't be mean to Bellaniece for all that . . . Will he?"

Gin shrugged, stifling a giggle.  "I doubt it.  I used to dress him and Ryo-nii up as girls all the time—mostly when they wanted me to take the blame for stuff they did, though . . ."

For some reason, that didn't really reassure Cain, not in the least . . .