InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ Undeniable Truths ( Chapter 62 )

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

"You know, there's only one thing that could make my birthday better."

Kichiro leaned back to gaze into Bellaniece's eyes as he danced her around the living room.  "Oh, yeah?"

She smiled.  "Yes."

"What'd that be?"

Deliberately taking her time in answering, as if she was afraid of voicing her desires—or maybe she simply liked to string him along—Bellaniece traced small circles on Kichiro's chest.  The feel of her claw through the thin fabric of his shirt brought tiny goose bumps rippling over his skin.  "Would you play a song for me?"

Kichiro frowned.  "Why would you want that?"

Bellaniece tangled her fingers into his and kissed them.  "Well . . . you're good with your hands, right?  And I'm a sucker for a guy who can play . . ."

"Are you, really?"

"Uh huh."

He sighed.  "I don't play for people."

"I'm not just anyone, am I?  I'm going to be your mate."

Smiling despite himself, Kichiro chuckled softly.  "I like the sound of that.  My mate . . ."

"So how about it?  Will you play for me?"

"Belle . . ."

"Please?"

"Is it really that big a deal?"

"Sure, it is.  Please, Kichiro?  I'm begging . . ."

He groaned as Bellaniece batted her eyelashes.  "Begging, huh?"

She grinned, eyes glowing in the soft light of the one small lamp that stood on the table behind the sofa.  "You like it when I beg?"

"I think I do."

"Of course you do.  Please, Kichiro?  Pretty please?"  She paused, gaze lowering meaningfully before she went on, "The girls and I would really, really appreciate it."

"Would you, now?  What's it in for me?"

She giggled.  "Anything you want."

'I like this girl,' he thought absently as she stroked him through the rough fabric of his slacks.  Closing his eyes as a delightful shiver ran up his spine, Kichiro pressed against her.  "Okay, but you have to sit over there," he told her, jerking his head toward the darkest corner of the living room.

"In the dark?"

"And you can't say anything."

"Hmm . . . all right."

She squeezed him one last time and spun around to hurry over to the chair tucked into the corner.  He made a point of staring down at his bulging pants and heaved a longsuffering sigh.  "You're going to do something about this later, right?"

She winked at him.

He hated to play in front of anyone.  Sure, he'd had recitals and exhibitions before, but those seemed different, he supposed as he slowly strolled over and sat down on the piano bench.  Put into context with other students, it hadn't seemed like such a huge deal.  For some reason, playing for Bellaniece . . .

'You're just worried that you'll screw it up, right?  That you'll hit the wrong key and look like an idiot.'

'Completely wrong,' he scoffed as he ran his fingers over the keys in a brief warm up exercise.

'Uh huh . . .'

Kichiro spared a glance at Bellaniece.  Sitting demurely with her hands clasped in her lap, legs together, knees leaning to the side, she offered him a smile of encouragement just before he looked away again.  Closing his eyes as he paused with his hands poised above the keys, he cleared his mind, concentrated on one of the sonatas that he knew by heart.

The first notes were a little tentative, filtering through the house with a timid sort of grace.  The sense of the confined space faded little by little, and Kichiro felt the lifting of his soul, of his mind.  Transported to a place where only the music existed, it was this feeling that he craved; the odd sense of detachment only to be caught up in something entirely structured and somehow completely free.

He could have played for minutes or hours.  Losing track of time was natural.  The rich timbres of the piano and the understated elegance of the song lent one another a quiet lethargy, and even the hushed whisper of movement didn't completely sever his trance.

"Kichiro."

He opened his eyes slowly, brows arching as he stared at the naked hanyou on his piano.  His playing didn't falter as he deliberately let his gaze roam up and down her body.  Lying on her side with her cheek propped on her elbow, she grinned at him.  One leg bent demurely, hiding the source of her intoxicating scent, she clucked her tongue and sighed.  "I want you to keep playing," she remarked casually, a thoughtful scowl marring her forehead.  "Then again, there's just something about it . . . What are the odds you can play the piano and pay attention to me at the same time?"

He chuckled but didn't miss a note.  "One or the other, princess . . . I think you know which one I'd rather do."

"It doesn't bother you?  Having a nude princess on your precious piano?"

"My two favorite things?  I don't think so . . ."

Bellaniece rolled over onto her belly, rising up on her hands and knees to prowl to the edge of the piano.  "Do you want your present now, Dr. Izayoi?"

Staring at her breasts as her scent unfurled around him, Kichiro pulled the cover over the keys and caught Bellaniece under the arms, dragging her off the piano.  She shifted to straddle his lap, grinding her sex against him.  "Fuck the present, Belle.  I've got something better in mind . . ."

Draping her arms around his neck, she laughed huskily.  "But I think you'll like it."

"I like eating your pussy more," he assured her.  Sliding his fingers into her, rewarded by her breathy gasp as she convulsed around him, he chuckled.  "And I'm starving."

"I'm dog-hanyou, just like you," she pointed out, voice low, soothing like water in the moonlight . . . "Pussy?"

"You purr like a cat when I service you," he remarked.  "It fits."

Her laughter was shaky at best.  "I really think . . . you'll like what I bought you," she murmured again.  "Then I'll purr for you; I promise."

Groaning softly as he hesitantly withdrew his finger; Kichiro stared into her eyes as he slowly stuck his finger into his mouth and sucked the moisture from it.

"You're so bad," she reprimanded despite the deepening of her fragrance.  Heady, powerful, it nearly overwhelmed him.

"Yeah, I am," he agreed with an unrepentant grin.  "You win.  Give me this present fast or all bets are off."

Making a show of her mock-defeat, Bellaniece heaved a heavy sigh and stood up.  He moaned as the flash of blushed pinkness peeked from beneath the glossy blanket of bronze curls; as her scent spiked with her movements.  'Damn, she's lethal,' he mused.

"Why don't you get naked, and then close your eyes."

He cast her a suspicious glance.  "Close my eyes?" he echoed.

"I didn't get to wrap it," she said with an innocent blink.

"I learned not to close my eyes without a damn good reason," he countered as he started unbuttoning his shirt.  "Having siblings will do that to you."

"I didn't have siblings," she reminded him.  "Now strip, will you?  And close your eyes."

"Demanding wench," he grumbled but complied.

Bellaniece didn't try to hide her avid attention as he stripped off his clothes.  "Nice," she breathed.

He grinned, cocking an eyebrow, dropping his slacks in a careless heap.   "Something interest you?"

"Maybe."

He chuckled.  "We'll see about that."

"Close your eyes."

"Belle—"

"Kichiro . . ."

He snorted loudly but closed his eyes.

The rustle of her soft movements made his ears twitch.  Turning his head toward the sounds, he scowled as he heard her approach.  "Can I open my eyes yet?"

Her answer was the sweltering dampness of her lips as she rolled her tongue around the head of his near-painful erection.  "Fuck," he ground out, hands sinking into her hair as he thrust himself into her mouth.  Savoring the perfect heat, the stunning spiral of flame and raw combustion that shot through him as she drew him in deeper, he couldn't help the primordial growl that slipped from him.  "Keep sucking my cock, and you can forget giving me that present."

The vacuum created by her mouth tightened in response.  He growled again as she pulled him in deeper. Her nose buried in his silvery hair as her breath collided with overheated flesh, Bellaniece moaned quietly, sending a shockwave through him as the reverberations rippled outward.  Bellaniece was a wanton creature; a free spirit.  'Passionate' described her perfectly.  She gave him everything she had, showed him everything she was willing to be, just for him.  That she enjoyed his body almost as much as he adored hers . . . Well, that was an added bonus . . .

As quickly as she started, she sat back.  Kichiro felt as though his body was breaking off, falling to pieces as he lurched in violent reaction to the loss of heat.  Grimacing as he fought back a rising growl of abject frustration, he opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when she grasped him firmly in one hand.

His brain slowed to a crawl as he tried to understand what she was doing.  The scent in the air reminded him of the perfunctory surgical gloves that he loathed but had to endure, and yet there was something altogether different about it, too.  He felt the friction as she pushed against him, her hand leaving the oddest sense of dulled sensation.  'It's a . . . She . . . Kami . . .'

"You can open your eyes now," Bellaniece said, her voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes snapped open, and he blinked as he stared at her face.  Flushed but without a trace of embarrassment, Bellaniece knelt on the floor with a smile brightening her eyes.

He stared at her for a moment before looking down at her 'present'.  Blinking in near-shock as he slowly shook his head, he shot her a questioning glance.  "It's a . . . condom," he remarked.

She giggled.  "So what do you think?"

"I don't know," he drawled, lifting his hand to make sure the condom was completely covering him.  "It's . . . green."

"Well, the vending machine only had the colored ones," Bellaniece explained.  "Anyway, I didn't get a purple one—more's the pity.  Just green, blue, and red."

"Three?  You only bought three?"

Bellaniece rolled her eyes as Kichiro sank to his knees.  "I only had enough change for three," she explained.  "Three's okay, right?"

"Kami, no," he grumbled as he crawled toward her.  "Why didn't you just buy a box of them?"

Bellaniece laughed, leaning back then dropping onto the floor.  "I was with my daddy!" she complained, tugging at his shoulders.  He resisted.  "Anyway . . . Are you going to growl at me . . . or are you going to . . . fuck me?"

An apocalyptic clap of thunder ricocheted through the stillness of the house and shot through his body at Bellaniece's question.  "Like that's even a question," he scoffed as she spread her legs, lifted her hips against his.  "Are you sure?  Absolutely sure?  If the condom breaks, telling your daddy would be a little anticlimactic . . ."

"Then we'll deal with that," she answered.  "I want you, Kichiro . . . just you."

"Good answer," he muttered as her body opened to him.  Her legs closed around his waist as he slowly pressed into her.  She gasped.  He bit his cheek.  Base instinct demanded that he take her, and yet her inexperience with this was far too real.  She was incredibly tight, hot, quivering, stretching, and yet she didn't seem to notice anything but the feel of him inside her.  Trying to give her time to let her body adjust to him was difficult enough, but when she arched up against him, drawing him in further, deeper, he couldn't help the ragged moan as his body surged into hers.  The trace resistance gave without drawing a sound from her, and Kichiro leaned on his elbows, dropping his mouth over hers in a kiss meant to calm her.

Bellaniece captured his lips, sucked on his bottom lip.  He growled, curling his lip before nipping at her.  "Calm down, princess."

"I can't," she pouted.  "I like this . . ."

He started to pull out of her.  She whimpered, lifting her hips to keep him in place.  "You want to do this?"

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes closed.

"Then be still, will you?"

Her answer was a roll of her hips, an undulation that wrung a low groan out of him.  The shifting of her body around him unleashed another surge of sensation.  She moaned softly; writhed below him.  Lightning flashed, casting the room in an eerie blue glow that tinged Bellaniece's flushed skin with a stark light.  He sat up, grasped her knees, watched in absolute fascination as she ran her hands up her belly, up the swell of her breasts.  Pinching her dusty pink nipples, rolling them lightly between her fingertips, she moaned again, her breath coming in short, strangled gasps.

Moving in her with long, slow strokes, he forced himself to keep his eyes open; mesmerized by the way her breasts lurched with every thrust.  She reached over her head to brace herself against the sofa as she pulled her legs free to rest her heels on his shoulders.  Groaning, growling, almost purring as she met his thrusts with an almost brutal force, Kichiro felt the swell of orgasm rising in him.

Bellaniece cried out, body tensing around him, quivering as a discernible surge shot through her.  In the dim haze that enveloped his mind, he watched as he buried himself in her over and over, time and again, as heat and energy spun out of his control.  She grasped his shoulders and tugged.  He leaned over her, supported his weight on his arms as she lifted her pelvis off the floor.  Calling out his name in the stillness as thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, he drove into her with a primitive abandon, his own cry mingling with hers as his pleasure took over.

He rolled to the side, dragging Bellaniece with him, savoring the feel of her body against his.  She was laughing—or was she crying?  He tipped her chin and looked at her.  "You okay?"

She sniffled and laughed.  "Never better," she assured him.

"Not sore?  Nothing?"

Bellaniece moaned softly and sat up, carefully pulling the used condom off his still-hard penis.  "You didn't come?"

"Duh, princess.  What do you think is in that thing?" he grumbled.

She laughed again.  "I love the hanyou recovery powers," she quipped as she scooted over to retrieve another condom—the red one—off the coffee table.

"We don't have to use all those tonight," he said gently.  "If you're sore at all . . ."

"But I'm not," she argued.  "And didn't you say something about if I wanted to 'do this'?"

He smiled, brushing aside the misplaced feelings of utter disgust brought on by the sight of the new condom that Bellaniece had in her hands.  Something else must have occurred to her, though, and she winked at him before hopping to her feet and hurrying out of the room.  'This way or not at all,' he told himself.  'Just until she can tell her father . . .'

Truth of it was that he would be more than happy to tell Zelig Cain that Bellaniece was going to be his mate.  Too bad Bellaniece thought that it'd be easier, coming from her.

Kichiro sighed and sat up, figuring that he might as well give her the other birthday presents he'd gotten for her—no small feat, considering that he hadn't known yesterday that her birthday was today . . .

After retrieving the two small, wrapped packages from the drawer in the table behind the sofa, he had just stretched out on the carpet again when Bellaniece strolled into the room with a thick violet washcloth.  "What's that?" he asked, nodding at the cloth.

"I thought I'd clean you up a little," she told him, her tone indicating that he really ought to have known as much.

"Do you want the rest of your presents?" he asked.

"You mean the tiara wasn't my present?"

He rolled his eyes as she gently wiped him clean.  "Right, princess.  A few pieces of cut glass in a cheap tin frame?  Be serious."

She set the damp cloth aside and finally seemed to notice the two small gift boxes.  "Which one should I open first?"

He shrugged.  "The bigger one."

She didn't need encouraging as she tore into the paper and ripped it off.  Turning the black velvet box in her hands, she shot him a questioning glance before slowly lifting the lid.  Her eyes widened as she stared at the diamond and amethyst bracelet nestled in the bed of black silk. It wasn't an exact match for the necklace and earrings, but it was damn close.  "Kichiro . . ."

"Hmm?"

"It's beautiful."

He shook his head and snorted.  "I've told you: jewelry is nice.  You are beautiful."

She blushed but smiled and leaned forward to kiss him.  Playfully showering his face with kisses, she dropped the jeweler's box and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Don't . . . you want . . . your other . . . present?" he asked between kisses.

"Okay," she agreed readily enough, kissing him a few more times before letting go and sitting back to lift the second, smaller box.  "This looks like a . . ."

"Just open it," he told her.

She cast him a suspicious glance but opened the box, tearing that paper off and letting it fall away in her rush to get to whatever was inside.  "Oh, my," she gasped as she stared in quiet wonder at the amethyst and diamond ring.  "Is this . . .?"

"You're going to marry me, right?  Whenever . . .?"

The slow smile that spread over her features was brilliant, remarkable.  With shaking hands, she pulled the platinum ring out of the box and handed it to Kichiro.  "Of course I am!" she said, her voice taking on a higher pitch as she sniffled and blinked.

He grimaced.  "You're not supposed to cry," he grumbled, ears flattening as the scent of her tears assailed him.  He took her hand and carefully slipped the ring onto her finger.  She didn't even spare it a glance as she flung her arms around him, showering his face with kisses once more.

"This makes it official, right?  We're going to be together forever?"

"Absolutely," he agreed.  "Now about those other condoms . . ."

She giggled, the change in her mood sudden, drastic.  Remarkable, how quickly she could flash from one extreme to the other . . . Either way, he figured he was luckier than some.  Bellaniece's libido rivaled his own, and that just might be a really good thing . . .


'What the hell have you done, Zelig?'

Wandering down the street with no real destination in mind, Cain hunched his shoulders forward, shook his head, tried to brush aside the feeling that he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.  'She's better off without me.'

'She might be,' his youkai agreed.  'We aren't, though . . . You lied to her.  You lied about needing her.  You lied . . .'

He grimaced.  Why was it so simple, to forget about Isabelle, to forget the things that couldn't be changed?  Why was it so much easier to let himself believe that being with Gin would make everything all right?

And Gin . . .

'I wasn't even mad at her, not really . . . I was just . . . angry, and she . . . She didn't deserve that.  She didn't deserve any of that . . .  Maybe I really am a monster; if not because of what I did to Isabelle, then for what I did to Gin . . .'

The scent of her tears still filled his head; the pathetic sound of her retching . . . The chilling ring of her humorless laughter . . . And in the end Cain could only close her door, couldn't bring himself to face her.  He'd known that he didn't deserve a woman like her, then he'd gone out of his way to prove it, too.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been wandering.  Minutes or hours, it felt like a lifetime.  He heard the distant rumble of thunder.  It seemed so far away.  A hundred voices, a thousand sighs, a million whispers, and they all sounded like her.  The vague recollection of his beautiful dream; the flash of golden eyes and silvery hair . . . With every step that carried him just a little further away, he felt another stab in his chest; a pain so deep, so unrelenting, that even the first droplets of rain did not wash away the lingering guilt.

"Don't make excuses for me!  Don't stand there and look at me with pity in your heart and horror in your eyes!  I'd rather you hate me than pity me, damn it!  Take your justifications and your good intentions and get out, Gin!  Just get out!   I don't even want to fucking look at you . . ."

There was a bitter truth in that; a strange sense of irony that he couldn't help but notice.  Seeing her shy away from him . . . He didn't want to admit how badly that hurt him.  She'd drawn away from him like he had struck her.  Then again, maybe he had done it, only with words instead of his hand.  Psychological pain was worse, wasn't it?  Bruises healed.  Cuts would scab over, and those scabs would fall away, but the words would linger, wouldn't they?  Words and the memories of things that couldn't be changed . . . Those things would stay when everything else faded to black.  All of his anger had dissolved in that instant, replaced by the sadness that he had done what he had never wanted to do.  To frighten Gin—to look her in the eye and know that he was the reason she was afraid . . .

The same sense of panic in another face, in another time . . . aqua eyes clouded with the same sense of worry, with the very same suspicion of what was to come despite Cain's stubborn reassurances that he wouldn't let it happen.  'She reeked of death, and you insisted on lying . . . She knew it, and you knew it, and you stubbornly held to the hope that you could change it, mighty tai-youkai.  All nature bows to your whims, doesn't it?  And still she died, didn't she?  And still she died . . .'

'I . . .'

'Your desires, Cain, your will.  You wanted Isabelle from the moment you saw her.  You didn't bother to explain things to her the way she deserved to be told. You blamed her for your weakness, and you trapped her.  You blamed me, didn't you?  You blamed your youkai blood for it, and then you realized just a little too late that Isabelle wanted different things than you did.  Wouldn't it have been enough, just to let her go?  You could have.  You could have said goodbye to her.  You could have let her walk away, and if you had, she'd be safe, wouldn't she?  One last barter, Zelig . . . One last mistake . . .'

'It wasn't . . . Isabelle wasn't a mistake!  She couldn't have been a mistake!  She couldn't have been because—'

'Because if she were, then Bellaniece would be one, too?   That could be true, couldn't it?  Then, too, Bellaniece could also be the blessing you didn't deserve to have.'

Slumping against the smeared window of a grimy little convenience store, Cain dug his cigarettes out of his pocket, groaning softly when he realized that the pack was empty.  He tossed the pack toward the trash can but didn't wait to see if he'd managed to hit the mark as he turned and pulled the door open, slipping inside, blinking in confusion at the merry chime of the bells above the door.  Rain dripped from his hair, splattering on the floor as his feet squelched in his shoes.  Stopping behind a boy who didn't look older than fifteen, Cain looked around without really seeing as the red-faced boy slipped the small box of condoms onto the counter, peeking around to make sure he wasn't recognized, Cain supposed.

"Can I help you?"

Cain glanced at the girl behind the counter, suppressing the unsettling desire to laugh.  "Marlboro Reds," he muttered as his gaze slid to the side, away from the girl.  Staring at the light pink, vinyl covered boxes stacked on the end of the counter, Cain reached out slowly, picked one up, ran his claw along the shiny gold-plated clasp.  He didn't need to lift the lid to know what was inside.  The same awful red blotter-paper, die cut and pasted to the interior of the cardboard box, and the little plastic ballerina who danced to the perpetual tinkle of the softly chiming music box.

Bellaniece had begged for one of those.  She wasn't more than five at the time.  "Please, Daddy?  Please?  I promise I'll be careful with it!  I promise I'll be good!"

Cain had smiled at her, just a little.  "All right, Bellaniece.  Remember, though, you promised . . ."

Bellaniece had carried it all the way home.  She'd carried it around for months.  "Daddy?  Doesn't she get dizzy?  I'd get dizzy, if I spun around that much . . ."

"No, Bellaniece . . . Ballerinas do that all the time."

"Daddy?  Does she go to sleep when I close the box?"

"Uh, yeah . . . Yeah, she does."

"Daddy?  Did Mama look like when she danced?"

Cain swallowed hard.  "No . . . your mother was . . . much prettier than that doll."

"Daddy?  Will you wind my music box so I can watch her dance some more?"

She'd been inconsolable when the ballerina broke off her little stand.  Cain had looked for another one—the silly little jewelry box . . . He hadn't been able to find one.  It was the one promise he'd made Bellaniece that he'd never been able to keep . . .

"I'll . . . I'll take this, too," Cain said, slipping the box onto the counter.  The girl nodded and added it to his total, and Cain dropped a handful of bills before taking the bag and heading for the door, ignoring the girl's insistence that she had to give him his change.

The rain beat down on the nearly deserted street.  The darkness of the shadows was deeper, more mysterious.  The strobe effect of the lightning cast the world in an eerie glow.  A few people hurried past Cain with newspapers over their heads.

'It was storming back then, wasn't it?  Storming, just like this, only worse . . .'

The lightning flashed again.  Cain blinked as distorted images of pleading aqua eyes burned him.  "Please, Cain . . . You have to . . ."

Gritting his teeth together as he closed his eyes to block out the sight, to block out the sound of her voice, he shook his head; he walked a little faster.  'Isabelle . . . I'm so sorry . . .'

But the whisper of another voice intruded, drew him back from the edge of insanity.  

"I just want to help you . . ."

Why did she try?  Why did she want to save him?  Why . . .?

"We're friends.  Friends . . . don't need to put labels on each other."

'Gin . . .?'

"I just don't want you to feel like I've ever expected more from you than you can give . . ."

Cain sighed.  'What I can give . . .?  For Gin?'

He didn't know the answer to that.  He wasn't sure how much he had, wasn't entirely positive that he had anything left to give her, at all.  Yet the nagging thought, the ever-present knowledge ate at him.  Gin had never, ever asked him for a thing, had she?  She gave him her smiles, her laughter, and she'd never asked him for a thing.  

Gin, the girl who didn't know what it meant, to hurt someone she loved . . . She hadn't known how ugly the world was.  She hadn't realized that some things come with a very high price.  She hadn't done a thing but reminded him what it was like to want to live.  He owed her, at least for that.  He owed her for a lot of things.  Would it be so bad, to tell her the truth?  She deserved to know that, didn't she?  Deserved to know the things that he couldn't change . . .

'Do I have anything left?  Anything at all?  Anything worth giving someone like Gin?'

'Do you really have to ask yourself that?  You already know the answer, Zelig . . .'

'Maybe I do,' he thought with a wince.  'Maybe I do . . .'


Bellaniece sighed happily as she pushed her bedroom door closed and wandered over to turn on the lamp.  The apartment was so quiet—almost eerily so, and she couldn't help the sharp pang of sadness as she remembered the odd look on Kichiro's face when she'd slipped the ring off her finger and put it in his hand for safekeeping.  

"I'll wear it whenever I'm with you," she promised.  "But until I tell Daddy . . ."

"It's fine," he assured her despite the melancholy expression in his gaze.  Ears drooping just a little, eyes glowing with a somber sense of resignation, he shrugged and forced a smile.  "You sure you don't want me to tell your old man?  Because I don't have a problem with that, either . . ."

"I should tell him," she maintained.  "I will tell him.  I just need to find the right time."

"I know; I know.  It's okay."

"Meet me at my window?"

His smile widened.  "I could do that."

She's slipped back inside without any incident.  Grinning as she crossed to the window and pushed it open, she giggled softly as Kichiro leaned inside to kiss her.  "I feel like a fucking pup," he grumbled.  "Sneaking around, trying to catch a glimpse of . . . Oi, what's that?"

Bellaniece turned her head, following the direction of Kichiro's gaze, and frowned.  The small box on her bed was wrapped in white paper—her father's sketching paper—and secured with a gauzy iridescent ribbon.  Wandering over to it, she lifted it slowly, turning the gift from side to side as she smiled at the streaks of primary colors—finger paints—which Cain had used to decorate the paper.  "It's from Daddy," she said, her voice almost awed as she shuffled back to the window.  "He made the paper, himself!  That's what he does at Christmas!"

Kichiro leaned through the window, staring at the package in her hands with a thoughtful scowl.  "I thought he didn't wrap your birthday presents."

"He doesn't; not normally.  In fact, I don't remember him ever wrapping my birthday presents before . . . I wonder what it is . . ."

"Open it."

Bellaniece nodded and turned the package over, tugging the ribbon and letting the paper fall away.  She never tore the paper her father decorated for her gifts.  It didn't matter if it took him less than a minute to decorate.  She'd saved every one of those papers . . . "Daddy . . ." she murmured as she ran her fingertips over the cheap pink vinyl that had been pressed to look like imitation leather.  "He remembered . . ."

"Remembered?"

How long had she cried that day the ballerina in her music box had broke off?  It seemed that she'd cried for hours over that silly bit of plastic.  Then again she was five at the time . . .

"Don't cry, Bellaniece.  I'll find another one for you; I promise . . ."

He'd looked everywhere but hadn't been able to find another one.  She'd thought that he had forgotten.  She'd forgotten, hadn't she?  After all these years, and still her daddy remembered . . .

Carefully unlatching the thin metal clasp, she flipped the lid back as the ballerina hopped up and started to dance.  Listening to the little chime of the music box's song, Bellaniece brushed away a tear before it slid down her cheek.  "I can't believe it . . ."

"I doubt your father wanted to make you cry," Kichiro pointed out gently.

Bellaniece nodded and sniffled.  "I know.  I just thought . . . I can't believe he remembered . . ."

"Remembered what?"

"I had one of these when I was little," she explained.  "It broke, and he promised he'd buy me another one, but he couldn't find one, and . . . Stupid, isn't it?  It's just a silly little jewelry box."

"It's not stupid," he told her with a sigh.  "If it were stupid, you wouldn't be crying."

"He's my daddy," she whispered, casting Kichiro a sad little smile.  "He's all I had . . . until I met you . . ."

"I know," he assured her, grinning slightly as she wound the box and lifted the lid.

She watched the tiny plastic ballerina spin around and laughed softly as tears filled her eyes again.  He pushed her bangs out of her eyes as she turned to look at him.  "Do daddies always remember things, even after their children forget?"

Kichiro shrugged.  "I think they do."

She sniffled again, gaze returning to the tiny dancing figure.  "This is why it's so hard.  Daddy just . . . and I . . . I'll tell him about us, but . . ."

Kichiro seemed sad as he gazed at the dancing ballerina.  Finally he sighed and leaned in to kiss Bellaniece's forehead.  "I told you, princess, it's all right.  I can wait for you."