InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ The Bet ( Chapter 44 )

Bellaniece shoved a few CDs onto the growing stack in Kichiro's hands and kept shuffling through the music bins.

"Kami, princess . . . your taste in music sucks," Kichiro grumbled as he shifted his arms to accommodate the pile of CDs and still hold onto the bag of new lingerie.

She flicked him a cool glance.  "Says you," she countered as she stuffed three more CDs into his hands.

"I thought you were more cultured than this," he prodded.

Bellaniece snorted.  "So I've got eclectic taste I music."

"Or none at all."

She shook her head.  "You're such a snob."

"A snob with good taste."

"Uh huh . . . Here," she said, shoving even more CDs at him.

"What do you think I am?  A pack horse?"

"A pack horse?  Of course not!  Well, maybe . . ."

He made a face.  "Whatever, wench.  Hurry it up, will you?"

"You're so grouchy."

"And you're so slow."

"This was your deal, you know," she remarked.

Kichiro rolled his eyes.  "Don't remind me."

She sighed then giggled.  "You said you'd buy me anything I wanted, and I want CDs . . . and a Discman."

"You're telling me you don't have one of those?" he asked, hefting an eyebrow in contention.  "You're kidding, right?"

She shrugged.  "It doesn't hurt to have more than one."

"Why don't you just get a digital player?" he complained.  "Just download this crap . . ."

"No, no, no . . . There's no substitute for the real thing, Dr. Izayoi."

He snorted indelicately to let her know what he thought of her statement.  "Well, hurry it up.  We still have to buy you more panties."

She made a face.  "I said I'd let you buy me some, and you have—I never said I'd wear them."

"Don't make me check you."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?"

Bellaniece shook her head.  "You're just a tad overbearing, don't you think?"

"And you're just a tad stubborn."

"Of course I am.  Now should I get blue, green, or purple?" she asked, nodding at the three color choices for the Discman.

"Violet," Kichiro said with a snort.

"I think green," she decided, stooping down to retrieve a box off the shelf.  "There!  That should do it."

"Good," he grumbled.  "Took you long enough."

She ignored his grumbling as the two headed for the checkout.  "I can buy this stuff," she mused, digging into her purse for her credit cards.

"A deal's a deal, princess," he stated.  "I promised, right?"

"Yes, but this is probably going to cost more than what you had in mind."

"Yeah, well, you'd have to buy a hell of a lot more than a few irritating CDs to break my bank account, wench."

"At least let me buy the Discman," she reasoned.

"Hands off, Grabby-chan.  I got it; I got it.  Don't forget batteries because I'm not running back to the store for them later."

She blinked.  "Grabby-chan?" she echoed, a vague smile quirking her lips.

"Yep.  At least, that's what Ryo calls you.  I figure it fits."

Rolling her eyes, she laughed.  "Remind me to thank him the next time I see him.  Maybe I'll grab his ears again . . ."

Kichiro didn't smile, but it was a close thing.  "As long as I get to watch."

"Voyeurism?  All right, but don't blame me if he doesn't like it," she agreed with a pleasant grin.  Then she sighed.  "Are you sure about this?" she went on, brandishing the Discman once more.

"Yes," he stated flatly, "I’m sure."

"All right," she allowed, despite the hint of trepidation in her voice.  "Thanks . . . and don't say I didn't offer."

She grimaced as the girl behind the counter scanned in the stack of CDs and the Discman, daring a glance at Kichiro when the total came up on the register.  "Last chance . . ."

He snorted and handed his credit card to the girl.  "It would have been better," he told her, "had you bought anything that was worth listening to."

"So you say," she said, waving her hand airily.  "You might find something you like.  Check the bargain bin—where the old stuff would be."

"See how you are?" he countered as he stuck his card back in his wallet.  "Just for that crack, you can carry the bag.  Don't break a nail, princess."

"As if," she shot back, taking the bag from the girl and striding toward the open doorway.

"What's your hurry?" he demanded when he caught up with her outside the music store.

Bellaniece stopped.  "I'm not hurrying."

He shifted the large lingerie bag that she had flat-out refused to carry.  "You are."

She wrinkled her nose, shaking her head when she caught sight of a couple girls walking nearby.  The girls giggled, whispering to each other as they stared at the oblivious doctor.  "Don't look now, but you're being checked out."

"I beg your pardon?"

Bellaniece inclined her head toward the passing girls.  "See?  They're totally eyeing you."  She paused, shooting him a calculated stare.  "Go introduce yourself, why don't you?"

He barked out an incredulous laugh.  "I don't think so."

"Oh, why not?" she teased.  "Show me how it's done."

"Hmm, not happening."

Bellaniece's eyebrows drew together in a marked frown as she clucked her tongue and heaved a heavy sigh.  "I get it . . . You've lost your touch, haven't you?  I suppose five years would do that to you, wouldn't it?  You could have just said so, you know."

"What's that?"

She shook her head.  "You can't pick up women anymore, can you?  That's so sad . . ."

Kichiro looked almost as offended as he had the first time she'd announced that she thought he was gay.  "I have not!  I just don't feel like it."

Bellaniece grinned.  "Really?  Are you sure?  I don't know . . ."

"I could pick them up," he grumbled, face reddening as he increased his pace.  "I don't need or want to."

"Are you sure?"

He shot her a menacing glare and kept moving.

"Are you scared?" Bellaniece asked as she fell into step beside him.

"Of what?"

"Of being rejected, of course!"

"In what world, princess?"

"Oh, please!  I'll bet you anything I could pick up a guy faster than you could pick up a girl."

"Like hell," he growled.

"Uh huh.  I'll bet you . . ." she trailed off, stepping in front of Kichiro to stop him as she narrowed her eyes and gave him the critical once-over.  Suddenly snapping her fingers, Bellaniece's eyebrows shot up in an excited expression that Kichiro really didn't trust, and she pointed at him as an even more alarming smile surfaced on her face.  "I'll bet you twenty-four hours that I can pick up a guy faster than you can pick up a girl."

"It's a bet you'd lose.  Too bad there isn't a chance in hell I'd take you up on it."

Staring at him for several long seconds, Bellaniece slowly nodded as her smile took on a downright gloating lilt.  "You are scared, aren't you?"

"Hardly."

"Five years is a long time, Dr. Izayoi.  I don't blame you for being too chicken to give it a try."

"I'm not chicken."

"'Fraidy cat."

". . . I'm not a cat, either."

"You won't take my dare?"

"No, damn it!"

Bellaniece's already sinister grin turned downright devilish as she stared clucking under her breath.

"All right, all right!" he snarled.  "You'll be sorry, you know."

"I doubt that," she retorted.  "Whoever gets the digits first, wins."

"Digits?"

She shrugged.  "Phone number, doctor!  Pay attention, okay?"

"Fine.  It's on, princess.  Be prepared to eat some humble pie."

Bellaniece rolled her eyes and checked her watch.  "Okay.  Let the games begin."

Gin could hear herself blinking in the darkness.  Staring at the ceiling with a soft sigh, not even the sound of Cain's steady, even breathing could offer her a semblance of the well-being she normally felt at night.

'You know why, doll.  You need to stop trying to analyze everything.'

'Maybe,' she agreed as her eyebrows drew together.  'I wish it were that simple.'

'Do you think that lying here all night will help you figure it out?'

'No . . . No, I don't.'

Cain's arms tightened around her, but he didn't stir.  She wanted to let herself feel the same sense of protection, the same contentment that she had come to know at night.  Something about him always made her feel safe, sheltered.  That feeling was still there, and yet there was something else underneath it all, too; something darker and sadder, something painful and frightening . . . something that had become a little too real, and if she dwelled upon it . . .

'It shouldn't feel like that, should it?' Gin mused as she carefully untangled her fingers from his hair.  'It shouldn't be so easy to stay here . . . It shouldn't be, but it is . . .'

'Don't think about it, Gin.  There's no comfort in the truth.'

'What do you mean?'

Her youkai sighed.  'You don't know?  You don't understand?'

She shivered in the warm bedroom; the icy grip of a certain dread wrapping around her tighter than Cain's arms.  'No,' she lied, refusing to acknowledge, even to herself, the crux of the realization that her youkai was trying to tell her.  'I don't understand, at all.  We're just friends, Cain and I . . . Nothing more than that, not really . . .'

Gin bit her lip and sat up slowly, gently breaking Cain's grip on her before scooting off the bed.  He moaned softly but didn't wake.  She stared at him for a long moment, until the ache in her chest grew too sharp to ignore, and she slipped out of the room with little more than a whisper of her feet against the floor.

The apartment was somber in the quiet of the night.  The shadows seemed melancholy, and even the vague light filtering through the windows couldn't displace the sadness surrounding her.  As though the atmosphere in the dwelling had been marred by Gin's ugly thoughts, it choked her, pushed at her, tugged at her soul.  Wherever she looked, she saw those eyes: the laughing smile of the woman that Gin knew she could never compete with.

She hadn't realized she'd wandered into Bellaniece's room until she was sitting on the window sill holding the picture of them in her hands.  Hanyou vision aided by the watery light of the sliver of moon was good enough to make out the faces in the image.

'I . . . I love him.'

'Don't think about it, doll . . . The truth won't help you.'

'But I do, and he . . .'

"Hey . . . what are you doing in here?"

Gin jerked back at the sound of Cain's still-sleepy voice.  He yawned and shuffled toward her to lean against the window frame as he gazed from her to the picture in her hands and back to her face once more.  "What are you doing?" he asked with a sigh.  Gin shrugged and let him take the photograph from her.  He set it on the nightstand and slowly shook his head.  "Don't do that," he told her.  "You don't need to."

"I don't know why I came in here," she admitted with a little shrug.  "I couldn't sleep.  Did I wake you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he told her gently.  "Of course you did.  I can't sleep without you mauling me.  Guess I've gotten used to it."

She swallowed hard, nodded in agreement.  He was trying to tease her.  He was trying to make her smile.  "Mauling you, huh?  If you mind it, I could always go home . . ."

He chuckled.  "Oh, no you don't.  You got me used to it.  Deal with it, baby girl."

"It isn't very flattering," she pointed out but smiled.

"Yeah, you're kind of like a leech—I just can't shake you off at night."

"You're the great and powerful, magnificent, awe-inspiring, ferocious North America tai-youkai, Cain Zelig.  You're telling me you can't fight me off?"

His lips twitched as he hunkered down beside her.  "You forgot virile," he told her.

She snorted but could feel the blush wash into her cheeks.  "No, I didn't."

"Ah-ah . . . If you're going to use my . . . extended title, then you have to use all of it, Gin."

"You're impossible," she informed him, "and I'm not saying . . . that."

He yawned again.  "You ready to come back to bed?"

Gin nodded, letting him take her hands and pull her to her feet.  "I suppose," she agreed.  "Cain?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think . . . I mean, is what we're doing . . . Is it okay?"

He stopped and stared at her with a thoughtful frown.  "What do you mean?"

Gin twisted her fingers in the long shirttails as she shook her head and avoided his gaze.  "My sleeping here . . . in your bed . . ."

"Do you think it is?"

"I don't know, but . . . I want to think so."

He sighed.  "Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?"

"Nothing's bothering me," she lied, trying not to fidget and fighting to keep him from seeing through the untruth.

He winced.  "You really do suck at lying, you know it?"

Gin forced a smile.  "It's nothing, really.  I'm just . . . being silly."  She made a show of yawning and grabbed his hand.  "Let's go to bed.  I'm exhausted."

His loud sigh told her that he knew she was avoiding his question, but he let her drag him back toward the bedroom and pulled her close when he lay down.  "Gin . . . do me a favor?"

". . . Okay . . ."

"Don't look at that picture anymore."

She tangled her fingers into his hair.  "All right," she agreed slowly.  "If you don't want me to . . ."

"It's not that I don't want you to.  I just . . . I don't like to see you sad, and whenever you look at it . . ."

Gin snuggled closer to him and nodded, closing her eyes as the familiar feeling of being completely protected surrounded her at last.  "Okay."

'This could blow up right in your face.'

'Sure, it could.'

'Do you think this is a good idea?'

'Why not?  She dared me; I didn't dare her . . .'

'Okay, great, but don't say I didn't warn you.'

Kichiro sighed.  True enough, this could be a colossal mistake.  He doubted she'd have much trouble, if any, picking up a guy.  She was drop-dead gorgeous, for kami's sake, and as much as he hated to admit it, she had a point.  He hadn't tried to pick up any women in nearly five years . . .

Surveying the area with a critical eye, Kichiro noticed three young women sitting at a small table outside one of the mall cafes.  One of the women smiled tentatively at him, and he shrugged inwardly before ambling over to them and leaning against the decorative railing beside their table.

"Excuse me, ladies.  My name's Kichiro Izayoi, I'm new to the area and wondered if any of you could recommend a few things to do around here?"

The women giggled.  "I'm Trish," the brown haired woman said.  "That's Barb—" The blonde wiggled her fingers in greeting.  "—and Cindy."  The black haired girl giggled as her cheeks pinked.

"Pleased to meet you," he said with a curt bow.

"There're a few bars in the area," Trish mused as she quickly glanced at her friends.

"Well, there's an amusement park a couple hours away," Barb piped up.

"You don't say," he commented, trying his best to look surprised as he glanced over his shoulder to see what Bellaniece was doing.  Standing just inside the arcade across the way, she had yet to approach anyone.  'Maybe this'll be easier than I thought . . .'

"There's a zoo," Cindy added.

"The beach is great this time of year," Trish suggested.

"Is that your real hair color?" Barb asked as she leaned over the railing and fingered the end of Kichiro's thick silvery braid.

He refrained from jerking his hair out of the woman's hand since that would probably work against his mission, and he pasted on a lazy smile.  "Maybe."

The girls giggled.  Barb cleared her throat and let go of his hair.  "Did you just move here?" she questioned with a bright grin.

"Uh, no . . . I'm just here long enough to take care of some business."

"Oh?" Trish said, her expression registering acute disappointment.

"What do you do?" Cindy asked.

"I'm a doctor," he told her.  "A surgeon."

"A surgeon?" she echoed, obviously impressed with his vocation.  "How interesting!"

He leaned his forearms on the railing and tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing as he regarded the black haired woman with an amused smile.  "Don't tell me . . . you're a . . . beautician?"

Cindy laughed.  "Close.  I'm a dog-groomer."

"Really," he remarked, trying not to laugh at the sheer irony.

"Gotta love those dogs," she said with a shrug.

He did laugh at that.  "And you ladies?"

"I'm a paralegal," Trish said.

"And I teach yoga," Barb answered.

"So . . . you could teach me how to . . . bend; you could dig me out of trouble; and you could . . . groom my dog?" he commented, shifting his gaze from one woman to the next as he addressed each one in turn.

The women laughed.

"Ah, you know, I'll be in town a few more weeks.  Maybe we could all get together?  You could take pity on me and take me sightseeing . . ."

"All of us?" Trish asked with a rather dubious glance at her friends.

"Sure . . . the more the merrier; isn't that how the saying goes?  If you would be kind enough to give me your numbers, I'll give you a call sometime."

"Okay," Barb agreed, digging out a pen and scribbling her name and number on a napkin before passing the pen and napkin to Cindy, who followed suit.  Trish added hers and handed the pen back to Barb before extending the napkin to Kichiro.

"Thanks, ladies.  You've been more help than you'll ever know."

They waved and called out their goodbyes as Kichiro bowed slightly once more.  Schooling his features to a bland expression, he turned around to look for Bellaniece.  She was still standing in the same place.  Kichiro stuffed the napkin in his pocket and strode over to her.

"Any luck?" he asked softly, leaning over her shoulder, lips brushing the curve of her ear.

She uttered a small shriek and whipped around, hand pressed to her heart.  She nearly dropped her shopping bag.  Kichiro chuckled.  "You have your number?" he asked her.

Bellaniece rolled her eyes as her cheeks darkened in a ruddy hue.  "Give me a minute, will you?"  Her gaze narrowed, and she let her hand fall away from her chest.  "Giving up already?  Let me guess . . . you got shot down."

"Nope."

"What do you mean, 'nope'?"

He shrugged.  "What does that normally mean, wench?"

"You got a number?  That fast?" she demanded incredulously.

"Nope."

She shook her head.  "Then what are you doing over here?"

"I got three of them."

Her mouth dropped open as her eyes widened.

"Close your mouth, princess . . . This isn't the time or place for that."

She still didn't close her mouth, but her cheeks darkened a little more, and she reached over to slap his chest.  "You're such a dog!"

"Well, duh."

She held out her hand, wiggling her fingers as she tapped her foot.

Kichiro rolled his eyes and deliberately took his time, digging the napkin from his pocket and smashing it against his chest to smooth out the wrinkles before slowly looking over the numbers and offering it to Bellaniece with a flourish.

"Oh, for the love of pete!" she scoffed.  "Are you sure you didn't make these up?"

Kichiro turned and gestured at the women who were still watching him with smiles on their faces.  "Be nice and wave, Belle-chan.  That's Trish the paralegal, Barb the yoga instructor, and Cindy the dog-groomer."

They waved at Kichiro, and he waved back.  Bellaniece muttered something that sounded like 'pig' as she held out the napkin, pinched between her index and middle fingers, as though she thought it just might bite her.

He took the napkin and stuck it back in his pocket.  "Okay, so that was three numbers times twenty-four hours . . . You have to do whatever I want for an entire weekend."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Oh, no . . ."

"Oh, yes."

"That wasn't the bet!"

"It stands to reason.  If one number is good for twenty-four hours, then three numbers would be good for seventy-two—that'd be three days, wench."

"But that wasn't the bet!"

"Belle . . . think of it this way: if the situation were reversed, and you had gotten the—what did you call them?  Ah, yes, the digits . . . Would you or would you not have tried to make me agree to three whole, entire days of your bidding?"

She blushed and blustered but not before he saw the hint of guilt flash across her features.  "Of course not!"

He shook his head.  "Yeah, you would have."

"I'm not doing whatever you want for three whole days, buddy."  She started stalking away.  Kichiro hurried after her.  "You're such a pervert!  Three of them?"

"What can I say?  Women can't get enough of the Kich."

She rolled her eyes and walked faster.  "One day, Dr. Izayoi."

"Give it up, princess.  I won, fair and square, and—and did you even approach a guy?"

"Of course not!"

"Why not?  It was your bet, remember?"

She sighed and ducked her chin, staring at the floor as she hurried toward the exit.  "Because apparently, I'm a little pickier than you are.  Go figure."

"What's there to be picky about?  You were just supposed to get the numbers; you weren't actually going to date whatever guy you chose."

Bellaniece shot him a perturbed glance.  "I might have."

Kichiro grabbed her arm to stop her.  "What?"

She shrugged.  "Like I'd ask for some guy's number if I didn't really want to go out with him."

"The hell you would have," he growled.

Bellaniece wrinkled her nose and jerked her arm out of his grip.  "I might have."

He made a face.  "Oh, hell, no."

"You're telling me you have no interest in seeing your three . . . women?"

He might have laughed at the way she'd said 'women' if he weren't still irritated over her claim.  "You say that like it's a curse word," he pointed out as he held open the sheet glass door that led to the parking lot outside the mall.

"It could be," she shot back.

Kichiro snorted.  "Whatever, wench.  Let me remind you that this whole thing was your idea; not mine, and . . ." He trailed off as he slowly turned to eye her.  Scowling mutinously at the pavement under her feet, she looked like a petulant child.  Kichiro suddenly chuckled.  "Jealous, are we?"

"I—Jea—No!" she stammered.

His chuckles escalated into deeper laughter.  "I like that," he assured her.  "Jealous . . . I can deal with that."

"I'm not jealous," she insisted.

"Of course you're not," he leered as he plucked the shopping bag out of her hands.  "A whole weekend of whatever I want . . . Nice . . ."

She growled at his gloating.  "I'm not doing it . . ."

He chuckled again.  "We shall see, princess . . . We shall see."