InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ Hope ( Chapter 91 )

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

Cain smacked his head back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and grimacing as dull pain exploded in his brain.  'She still won't listen . . . She doesn't want to hear me . . . Damn it, why?  Why does she insist on doing this to herself?  To me?'

'Calm down, Cain . . . She's been through a lot.  She's just not thinking straight.  Give her time . . .'

"I don't want to be another obligation."

'Where the hell did she come up with a fool thing like that?  Obligation?  She'd never be . . . I'd never think of her like that . . . She ought to know that, for God's sake!'

'She woke up to the same feelings of upset that she'd had when she lost consciousness.  It'll take a few days for her to come to terms with things.  You know she wants to be with you, and you know you want to be with her.  Just be patient.  She'll listen to you in the end.'

'I just want her to understand.'

"For a man who's found his mate, you don't look very pleased."

Cain opened his eyes and shifted them to the side to glare at Toga.  "Tell her that, will you?"

"I'm not going to ask you what happened.  That's really between you and Gin-chan," Toga remarked lightly—too lightly.  Even so, Cain could feel the hint that there was more that the future Japanese tai-youkai wanted to say, and absolute irritation at the situation in general kept Cain quiet for the moment. "It's kind of funny, don't you think?  The things that seem so clear, when you think about the past . . ."

"Working on talking in riddles as much as your father?" Cain countered dryly.

Toga chuckled, but the sound was more sad than happy.  "I think it's going to storm."

Letting his head drop back against the tree trunk, Cain regarded Toga for a long moment.  The youkai stood with his hands in his pockets, the cuffs of his white cotton shirt folded up a couple of times.  Black hair shining blue in the weak and watery sunlight, he looked pensive, yet friendly, as his amber gaze scanned the surrounding forest.  "Oh?"

Toga nodded.  "The clouds are rolling in fast, aren't they?"

'Talking about the weather . . .?  Pfft . . .' Sparing a caustic glance at the heavens through the network of branches high overhead, Cain sighed.  "Pretty common for this time of year," he ventured instead, tamping down the irritation that never seemed too far away these days.

Either he had hidden it well enough, or Toga simply deigned not to notice.  In the end, he scuffled the toe of his impossibly expensive shoe in the dirt and gave an offhanded shrug.  "I remember once . . . It was storming really badly . . . Yasha-jiji and Gome-oba-chan went to the beach house . . . I think it was the first time they left Gin with my parents . . . The twins were running around, screaming their heads off, and Gin—she was just learning how to talk—latched onto my legs, and she said she was scared of the storm.  She was shaking.  She had tears in her eyes but didn't actually cry.  She said that she wanted her papa . . ."

"Scared of a storm?  That's not so odd.  What was she?  A year and a half?  Two?"

Toga shrugged and smiled almost sadly.  "She was a year and two weeks old.  Cutest little thing, you know?  Always wearing the frilliest little dresses, and I remember Gome-oba-chan complaining because Yasha-jiji was the one who insisted that she look like the little angel she was . . ." Trailing off with another chuckle—this one more hearty, more robust—Toga shook his head.  "A little angel . . . Sounds about right, doesn't it?"

"Your point?" Cain countered quietly.

Toga let out a deep breath.  "I guess I was just remembering it . . . because the look on her face a few minutes ago?  I hadn't seen that expression again until now."

Cain swallowed hard and grimaced.  "What did you do for her back then?"

"Simple," Toga said, as though the answer should have been obvious.  "I read her a book, and she fell asleep on my shoulder."  He sighed and nodded at the rapidly approaching storm clouds.  "We've always tried to fix things for her—me, jiji . . . oba-chan . . . Hell, even the baka twins and . . . and my own parents.  It's hard not to, with her.  You just want to protect that smile of hers, right . . .? Maybe you know something about that, too?"

Cain heaved a sigh.  "Maybe."

"Gin's a curious one.  She gets these notions into her head, and then she doesn't wait to find out if she's right or wrong."

"I tried to make her listen to me before I left the first time."

Toga smiled almost sadly.  "Gin's a lot like Sierra that way."

"Oh?"

"Yep.  See, Sierra was adopted when she was a baby.  When we were dating, she found out that her birth mother had Huntington's disease, and she was tested.  To make a long story short, she did have the defective gene, and because she thought that she was going to be a burden to me when the disease set in, she sent me away, thinking that I could find someone else."

Cain narrowed his eyes, recalling something that Sesshoumaru had mentioned in passing years ago.  "Toga nearly died because I . . . I didn't tell him some things that I should have . . ."

"The fight with the cat-youkai?"

Toga nodded.  "Yes.  I didn't tell Sierra that my youkai had recognized her as my mate, you see.  It was my fault—my pride—my ignorance."

"I . . . I didn't understand," Cain admitted with a wince.  "Because of that, Gin . . . She's suffered because I've been stupid.  How do I tell her I'm sorry?"

Toga sighed and shrugged offhandedly.  "You don't really think you're the only one at fault, do you?"

"It doesn't matter.  I want to keep her safe.  Maybe she needs to be kept safe from me . . ."

"And maybe you both need to stop trying to protect each other and just say what needs to be said."

Cain didn't answer as he turned his attention back to the gathering storm clouds.  He heard Toga shuffle off and scowled as the first fat droplets of cold rain splattered onto the ground.  Hooking his hands around his raised knees, he sat still, absently feeling as the chill wind picked up; ignoring the pervasive moisture that fell on him.

'All because I didn't know . . . I thought . . . I thought I was just sleep-deprived, working myself too hard . . . and all this time, Gin . . . Gin was already the mate of my heart . . .'

'You finally understand, Cain?  She'll be your wife, but she'll be my mate.  You just need to tell her; to make her understand.'

'Make her listen, you mean.'

'Even if she doesn't think she wants to hear it.'

Cain sighed and closed his eyes.  'I can do that . . .'

'. . . Good.'


"Where'd he go?" InuYasha growled as he cautiously poked his head into the room.

Gin watched him step inside and cleared her aching throat.  "He . . . He's outside, I think."

"Keh!  You finally come to your senses and tell him to go to hell?"

"Papa?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"What?"

Wrinkling her nose but obediently sipping the water that InuYasha offered her, she swallowed a few mouthfuls before he finally set it aside and flopped into the chair.

"Did you have to make him come back?"

InuYasha made a face at Gin's careful tone.  "I didn't give him a chance to argue, if that's what you mean," he growled.  "Stupid ass made me wait, though.  Had to run inside to get something.  Kami only knows what it was . . ."

She felt her ears flatten.  "So you did have to make him."

"Dunno what you see in him.  Seems pretty clueless for a tai-youkai."

"He's not clueless," Gin ventured.

"Keh.  Whatever.  He didn't say shit on the plane.  Too busy staring at this little box he brought along."  Cracking his knuckles, but in an idle sort of way, InuYasha snorted again.  "Must've been what he had to go back inside for, damned bastard."

"Box?" Gin echoed, brow furrowing as she cautiously met her father's gaze.  "What sort of box?"

InuYasha shrugged, leaning back in the chair and folding his hands together behind his neck.  "I dunno . . . a little box.  About this big," he remarked, holding up one hand and indicating a two inch gap between his fingers.  Flipping his wrist, he sketched out a tiny square.

"That's . . . really tiny," she said, ignoring the soft voice in the back of her mind that she didn't dare believe.  'A box that small might be . . .'

"I don't know what you saw in him.  Must have been temporary insanity."

"He's a good man," she argued.

"Yeah, hella good at fucking things up."

"He has his reasons."

"I still say you're better off without him.  The baka . . . didn't even have the sense to grab some clothes.  Your mother had to go buy him some.  He flat-out refused to leave the house since he got here."

"But you made him come back."

"Doesn't mean I wouldn't have let him have ten minutes to pack."

"Would you have?"

"Of course," he scoffed despite the glower on his face; the one that proclaimed that he really wouldn't have allowed any such thing.  "Anyway, good riddance, I say.  Nothing he says can change the fact that the bastard nearly killed you."

Gin winced.  "Papa?"

"Hmm?"

"That wasn't his fault."

InuYasha rolled his eyes.  "What do you mean, it wasn't his fault?  It was entirely his fault!  My daughter would be smart enough to know when her youkai chose someone, don't you think?"

Gin flinched and licked her parched lips.  "I . . . didn't tell him . . . about that . . ."

"Why the hell not?"

"I wanted him to be with me because he wanted to be; not because he was forced to be."

"Forced to be with you?  Keh!  He ain't no prize, baby girl.  It's his fault; I know it is."

"It's mine, too . . . Papa?"

InuYasha snorted but didn't argue with her.

Blinking back tears, Gin stared at the pillow beside her.  "Are you . . . disappointed in me?"

He sighed.  "Have I ever been disappointed in you?"

". . . I don't think so . . ."

"Keh!  Well, I'm not now."

"You're not?"

"Hells, no.  It's that bastard I've got a problem with . . . I ought to kick his miserable ass for what he's done to you . . ."

"No, Papa, please!  I . . . I want to talk to him . . ."

InuYasha's expression was inscrutable.  "Why would you want to do that?"

"I should, I think . . ."

Standing up, he heaved a disgusted sigh but headed for the doorway.

"Papa . . . did you . . . see . . . what was in the box?"

"Nope," he replied over his shoulder before disappearing into the hallway.

Gin bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment.  'A small box . . . one that small . . . that might be a . . . No, it can't be . . . can it?'

'Maybe it is, doll . . . You should listen to him.  Maybe you've been wrong, you know?'

'If I'm wrong about the box . . .'

'What if you're not?'

She heard . . . a wet, squelching sound?  Her frown deepened as she craned her neck to stare at the empty doorway.  Her mouth dropped open as Cain appeared—the squelching noise was his soaked shoes.  Hair plastered to his face, clothes soaked, the water had seemingly leeched the color from his skin, and his eyes were shadowed, guarded.  "Your father said you wanted to talk to me."

"Why are you all wet?"

"It's raining outside."

"Oh . . ."

Cain didn't step into the room.  Dragging a soggy pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket, he tossed it into the trash can and sighed.  "Gin . . ."

"Papa said you . . . were staring at a box on the plane . . . a little box . . ."

He looked startled for a moment then shrugged.  "Did he?"

She nodded.  "Cain . . . what's in the . . . box?"

"First things, first," Cain drawled.  "I tried to tell you, before I left . . . I wanted you to come with me."

Gin's gaze fell away, and she turned her face away.  "You wanted to help me find a job."

He grimaced and sighed.  "You knew about the promise I'd made, Gin.  How was I supposed to tell you that I needed you when . . .? How could I ask you to stay with me when I'd already asked you for far too much?"

"Why did you come back?"

Cain shook his head.  "What do you mean?"

"Did you just come back because Papa went after you?"

"Wha—?  No . . . Gin . . . Don't you know?"

She shook her head.

"I left something here."

"What?"

She could hear the wan smile in his voice, and she dared a peek at him.  He still looked rather pathetic, but his eyes were a little brighter.  "My mate."

Gin sucked in a harsh breath and grimaced as her heart stilled for a long moment.  "Your . . . mate?"

She heard him sigh, felt the wash of relief that radiated from him.  He shuffled into the room, knelt beside the bed, and took her hand in his.  "Yeah, my mate . . . Maybe you know her?  Beautiful hanyou woman?  Silvery hair?  Cute little ears?"

She had to lick her lips and swallow a few times before she could make her voice work.  "I-I-I'm hanyou . . . I have ears . . ."

"So you do."

"Cain—"

"You scared the hell out of me, did you know?"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry.  Don't ever be sorry."

"No, I mean . . . I do need you.  I  . . . lied . . ."

"Baby girl . . . I want—I need—to be with you."

"I . . ." Gin trailed off, a frown darkening her expression.  "What about your promise?  What about Isabelle?"

Cain smiled sadly.  "I kept my promise."

"You . . . did?"

He nodded.  "Weren't you the one who said so?  It's just like you ssaid.  A part of me died with her . . . a part that I'll never get back, but . . . you were right.  Every time I look at Bellaniece, I see her—Isabelle.  The guilt of losing Isabelle made me want to die, but you . . . You made me smile.  You remind me every day, that there is still beauty in the world."

"Cain . . ."

"I love you."

Blinking rapidly in an effort to contain the tears that swelled in her throat; tingled behind her eyelids, her vision blurred as a shaky sob rattled out of her.

Cain's hand brushed her hair out of her face, cradled her cheek gently.  "Hey . . . You're not supposed to cry," he chided.

"I l-lo-ove you, too," she wailed.

Cain's breath rushed out of him, and she felt the warmth of his lips on her forehead, on her eyes, on her cheeks.  The gentleness of his actions brought out more tears.  Sniffling but smiling, she suddenly felt like laughing, like singing, like dancing.

"I'm so sorry, Gin . . ."

"You don't be sorry, either."

He nodded slowly despite the reluctance to offer his agreement.

"Can you hold me?" she asked when he leaned back to smile at her.

He started to nod again then winced.  "Let me go get dried off," he said, his tone apologetic.

"It's okay . . . I don't mind."

"Well, I do.  The last thing you need is to catch a cold because I didn't take a few minutes to change."

He stood up and strode out of the room before she could argue.  Gin sat back and made a face.  The expression didn't linger long.  A smile tugged the corners of her lips, and she tried not to yawn.

'He loves me . . . and he wants to be with me . . .'

'You're his mate, doll.'

Gin fought against the heaviness that dragged on her eyelids.  'His mate . . . my mate . . .'

'Now you can concentrate on getting better.  You've kept him waiting long enough, don't you think?'

She thought she nodded as the threads of conscious thought unraveled.  Just before she gave up completely, she felt him lift her only to settle her against his chest after he carefully slipped into the bed beside her.  The last thing she remembered was the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm that was the beat of his heart.


Cain woke slowly, a lethargic sense of well-being bringing a smile to his lips before he opened his eyes.  Gin's warmth was welcome, comforting.  She sighed softly, and he chuckled as her breath tickled his neck.

"You're so warm," she murmured with a little smile.

"Did you sleep all right?"

"Yes."

"I did, too."

"Cain?"

"Hmm?"

"Was Papa just teasing me?  About that box?"

He laughed.  He couldn't help himself.  "You have a one track mind, Gin."

"I'm curious."

Cain sighed and carefully untangled himself so that he could sit up.  He stared at her for a moment with a smile tugging the corners of his lips before he stood up and dug a tiny deep blue velvet box out of his pocket before sitting down by her knees.  "I was wandering the streets and saw this in a store window," he explained.  "I bought it without thinking, I guess . . ."

"What is it?" she asked breathlessly.

"Eh, it's just a little something . . . Know anyone who might like it?"

Gin bit her lip for a moment and tried to look nonchalant.  "I . . . think I would."

"Do you?"

"I need to see it."

Cain chuckled as he pushed the button to flip open the box.  Smiling at the contents, he tilted the box from side to side as he carefully regarded the object.  "I don't know," he finally drawled.  "It's rather understated . . . almost plain . . ."

"What . . . is it?" Gin demanded, craning her neck in an effort to see over the lid.

He grimaced and shook his head.  "I don't know, baby girl . . . You know, I think I should see if I can't find a better one—a bigger one."

"Uh, no!  Umm . . . I want to see it," she assured him.

Cain wrinkled his nose.  "Yeah, but this is so . . . simple . . ."

"I like simple," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but it's not very big . . . I mean, it's for the future wife of the tai-youkai . . . It should be bigger; lots bigger . . ."

"I think your future wife would like that one," Gin remarked anxiously, trying to tug on his wrist without moving him at all.

He shook his head.  "Nah . . . the more I look at this, the more I think that it just isn't the right one, after all.  I'll just run into Tokyo and look for a better one—"

"You can't!" she complained.  "It's mine!"

Cain chuckled and peered over the box at her.  "Yours?  But you haven't seen it."

"I don't care," she maintained.  "It's mine.  You bought it for me . . . didn't you?"

"If you're sure . . ."

"I'm sure."

Cain dropped his gaze to the ring again, hooking the cuff of his sleeve over the heel of his hand to polish the stone before grimacing slightly and slowly—slowly—turning the box toward her.

Gin gasped and blinked as she stared at the ring.  Eyes widening, hand shaking as she reached for it, she uttered a soft little whine and closed her stiff fingers around the box.  He let go so she could bring it closer, and he wiped the tear off her cheek as she tried to speak  "It's beautiful," she managed at last.

"You want it?"

She nodded without taking her eyes off the glimmering diamond solitaire.

"You know what that means, right?  To keep that ring you have to keep me, too."

"I want that," she whispered.  Choking back a sob as Cain carefully pulled her into his arms, she leaned on his shoulder with the ring box clutched against her chest.

"You're not supposed to be crying," he complained.  "You're supposed to be happy . . ."

"I am happy."

"Me, too."

"Cain?" she asked between hiccups.  "Will you . . . put it on me?"

Cain took the ring box but scowled.  He'd tried to put it on her just after he'd arrived.  The ring would have fit her finger well enough before, but she'd lost so much weight that he had been too afraid that it would slip off.  "Gin . . . you've got to gain some weight back first.  You'd get upset because you'd lose it . . ."

"I won't lose it," she argued.  "I-I promise."

He sighed and took the box before slipping out of the bed once more.  "I've got an idea.  Just wait."

"But—"

"I'll be right back," he assured her.

Hurrying out of the room, he located a ball of soft twine in the cabinet above the washing machine.  Tugging a good length of the string, he cut it with his claws and ran it through the ring.  'She's not going to like this,' he thought with a grimace as he tied the ends of the string together.

'She'll like it better than she would if she lost the ring on accident.'

Conceding that with a shake of his head, Cain held up the makeshift necklace to survey his handiwork.

The house was empty.  Cain frowned as he headed back toward Gin's bedroom.  A single sheet of parchment paper lay in the middle of the dining table.  Cain paused long enough to glance at it, and after seeing his name in Kagome's careful script, he grabbed it and kept moving.

Gin was sitting up in bed with her legs swung over the side.  Balancing rather precariously, she swayed, her body trembling with the force of her efforts.  Muttering a low curse, he ran over to her, caught her shoulders to support her.  "What are you doing?"

"I want my ring," she grumbled.

Cain sighed and slipped the string over her head, gently pulling her hair out from under it.  The ring hung near her belly button.  With a tender little smile, he grasped the ring in one hand and her finger in the other.  "There.  Now you can't lose it if it falls off."

Gin tugged at the string, obviously unhappy with what Cain saw as necessary.  "I won't lose it," she pointed out.

"I'll tell you what," he offered, pulling her into his lap, adjusting the oxygen tube that was still taped to her cheeks.  "You eat and regain some of your weight, and when you're healthy enough that we can cut off the string, we'll get married."

She looked like she wanted to argue with the necessity of the string, but she sighed.  "Okay," she allowed grudgingly.

He could feel the weariness in her body.  The simple act of sitting up had really taken a lot out of her.  He grimaced.  "Good . . . What are the odds I can convince you to eat something?"

Gin yawned but her eyes were open as she happily stared at the ring on her finger.  "After I take a nap?"

He smiled.  "Sounds fair.  Gin?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad I came back."

She snuggled closer and closed her eyes.  "Me, too."