InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ To Make Her Smile Again ( Chapter 100 )

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

"Explain something to me, baby girl."

Gin glanced up from where she sat on the floor with Mikio in her lap.  "Hmm?"

"Just how did you talk me into letting your family invade my home?"

She giggled and hugged the squirming baby.  Seven month old Mikio tried to lean away.  He had a fascination for chasing Punkin and was completely irritated when Gin would scoop him up off the floor, thus hindering his progress as he zoomed around on hands and knees, trying to catch the dog.  "I didn't do a thing," she informed him with a soft giggle.  "You volunteered."

"I did, didn't I?  Damn it . . ."

Gin reached over and slapped Cain's knee.  "No swearing in front of the baby!" she insisted.

"What?  Damn?"

She slapped his knee again.

Cain rolled his eyes.  "That pup's heard worse than that from your father, I'll guaran-damn-tee it."

Gin wrinkled her nose.  "Absolutely not.  Mama doesn't let Papa swear around babies . . ." she trailed off, her face contorting as she thought it over.  "Then again, the twins learned some fairly colorful language, too . . ."

"I rest my case."

She shook her head.  "Still, how would that look if Mama and Papa come back, only to find Mikio swearing like a sailor?"

"Maybe your mother'll purify your father?  I can always hope, can't I?"

Gin sighed and shook her head, but the show of sternness was completely undermined when she giggled.  "Good thing Mikio doesn't talk yet, then."

Cain snorted, shaking out the newspaper and lifting it up to cover his face.  "There's not a question in my mind that his first word is going to be a profanity, and then your father will be purified, for sure . . . do you think your mother would be kind enough to take pictures of it for me?"

"Cain!" Gin scolded.  "You're horrible."

He laughed.

"Mama said that Mikio's appetite has tapered off since he cut his first tooth," Gin went on, letting Mikio slip onto the floor to resume his tormenting of the dog.  Punkin's head shot up, and the animal stood up, running from the room with his tail tucked neatly between his legs.  Mikio screamed angrily as Gin picked him back up and tried to sooth the child.  "Aww, it's okay, sweetie . . . the doggie is just tired of playing."

"I'd be tired of playing, too, if someone tried to yank out all my fur," Cain grumbled.

"He's not trying to be mean," Gin argued.

Mikio's cry escalated.  Cain heaved a sigh and set the paper aside.  "Give him here."

Gin blinked and stared at Cain's outstretched hands.  It was the first time in the four days since InuYasha and Kagome had arrived that he'd offered to take Mikio without her insistence . . .

He took the child and stood up, holding Mikio so that he could look around instead of being cuddled against a shoulder.  Cain shrugged off-handedly as he headed for the glass doors that led onto the patio.  "We men are going for a walk," he said.

Gin grinned.  "Just you men?"

Cain glanced down at Mikio, who was chewing on his fist and sniffling as tears ran down his cheeks though he had stopped wailing when Cain had picked him up.  "What do you think, pup?  Should we let her come along?"

Mikio hiccupped, left ear twitching wildly.

"Ah, well, sorry, Gin.  Mikio's spoken."

Gin wrinkled her nose but followed them onto the patio.  "Oh, go on.  I'll start dinner while you men are out walking."

Cain stopped long enough to cast a wolfish grin over his shoulder.  "Don't worry.  He'll be fine."

She sat on the top step, leaning against the thick wooden rail, waving at Mikio, who was peering over Cain's shoulder.  He raised a chubby hand, opening and closing his fist a few times before stuffing his hand back into his mouth again.

Cain said something so low that Gin couldn't make out his words, but the child laughed suddenly, his tears apparently forgotten.  'He's good with babies.'

'That stands to reason, doll.  He raised Bellaniece alone, remember?'

Her smile widened.  'It makes sense, sure . . .'

Cain carefully lifted Mikio over his head and settled him on his shoulders as they wandered along the path that led to the beach.

'How cute is that?'

'Yeah, well, don't tell Cain that.  He'd just use it as an excuse to punish you again.'

Gin giggled as her cheeks pinked.  'Being punished isn't that bad . . .'

'Kami, you're really starting to sound like your brothers.'

She laughed.  Cain's idea of punishing her was . . . interesting.  The first time it had happened, she had been rather upset since she hadn't really done anything that she felt deserved reprimanding, especially since he had instigated the entire thing.  After that first time, though . . .

Sitting on a stool by the wall of windows in their studio, Gin had been sketching the shoreline.  Cain, apparently irritated since she was paying more attention to the drawing than she was to him, had reached over and jostled her arm with his elbow.

"That wasn't very nice of you!" she scolded, staring at the vivid streak of graphite he'd caused.

"I didn't do a damn thing," he protested, turning his attention back to the sketch he was working on.

Gin wrinkled her nose and scribbled on his paper.

"Hey!"

"Can't take it, sensei?" she shot back.

Cain snorted and dropped the sketchpad and pencil on the floor.  Slowly rising to his feet, he shot her a look that made her heart skip a beat.  "C-Cain?"

He leaned down, claws idly stroking her hips through the thin material of her skirt, eyes burning with an intensity—a luminance—that she knew.  "I think you should apologize for that."

"You did it first," she countered, her voice breathless, quiet.

"Maybe but I was drawing you, and you're much more impressive than a sketch of the shoreline."

Gin blushed.  "You've sketched me a thousand times."

"And I'll sketch you a million times more."  He leaned down, brushed his lips over hers. "Are you sorry?"

She swallowed hard, mesmerized by the glint in his gaze.  "I . . . No."

He chuckled and stood up straight, arms crossed over his chest as his laughter died away.  "Run, Gin."

"What?"

"I said you'd better run, baby girl."

"But—"

"I'll count to five, and when I catch you, I'm going to punish you," he warned.

"Cain, I—"

"One . . ."

"But—"

"Two . . ."

"This isn't—"

"Three . . ."

"I didn't—"

"Four . . ."

"Cain!"

He cocked an eyebrow.  "Aren't you going to run?  Five . . ."

"I . . . Yes!"  Springing up off the stool, Gin sprinted across the studio toward the door.  She didn't make it there before she felt Cain's strong arms circle around her, lifting her off the floor flush against his chest.

He chuckled again, supporting her with one arm as he stripped away her panties with his free hand, his fingertips stroking her as she shivered, as her protests died on her lips . . .

'Punish me, huh?' she thought as the memory faded; as color seeped into her skin, and she smiled.  He'd done it often in the time since, counting to five and telling her to run.  She'd managed to make it to the bedroom just once.  All the other times, he'd 'punished' her where he caught her, much to her delight.

'You're not supposed to like being disciplined,' her youkai pointed out reasonably.

'I don't think I mind being punished.'

Her youkai chuckled. 'No, no . . . I don't think I mind it, either.'

Her smile faded as she caught sight of Cain and Mikio walking along the beach.  She'd almost declined when Kagome had asked her to watch Mikio so that she and InuYasha could take a tour of the coast.  It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to watch him.  On the contrary, she supposed, she was afraid.  It was easy to convince herself day after day that she didn't care if she ever had children since she hadn't really been in charge of a baby before.  Easier?  Sure.  She wouldn't trade her time with Mikio, though; not for the world.

Unfortunately, taking care of the baby also brought everything sharply into focus, too, and the hollow ache that she had been feeling from time to time had somehow grown into something far worse.

'Maybe you should just tell Cain.'

Gin's smile faltered, ears flattening, and she shook her head with a sigh.  'I can't.'

'Why not?'

'You know why not.  After what happened to Isabelle . . . after all that time he spent blaming himself . . . I can't ask him to have a baby with me."

'Isn't it better than letting it fester inside you?  Don't you think that you ought to tell him?  He wants you to tell him things.  He's told you that, right?'

Gin bit her lip, huddled closer to the banister.  'It's enough, that he's with me.  That's all I wanted from the start.'

'So you're never going to tell him?  Ever?'

'I can't change the rules of the game now.  It wouldn't be fair . . .'

'It's not about fair, Gin.  This is about the rest of your life.  You're giving up a lot, you know.  Do you think Cain wants that for you?'

'And he gave up a lot to be with me.  He came to terms with what happened to Isabelle . . . chose to live for me instead of dying for her.  There's really nothing that can compare to that.  Asking him to have a baby with me . . . Forget it.'

'Fine, fine, but just so you know . . . things like this don't just go away, Gin.  They fester and they eat at you, and eventually they make you resent things—or people—that you used to love.'

She shook her head and stood up abruptly, her gaze focusing on the youkai ambling along the shore with the baby on his shoulders.  'That won't happen,' she thought stubbornly, fiercely.  'It won't.  I won't let it.'


The soft knock on the door made Kichiro glance up from the papers littering his desk.  "It's open," he called, letting his attention return to the documents.

"Oi, Kich.  Got a minute?"

Kichiro grunted in reply, raising his hand to wave Nezumi into the office.  "Sure, but not much more than that."  He shot her a quick glance.  "What's up?  Ryomaru get himself hurt again?"

Nezumi laughed but shook her head as she wandered into the office and closed the door behind her.  "Rumor has it you've been busy lately."

"Hmm," he agreed, making notes on the paper he was looking at.

"Uh huh," she said, settling on the edge of the desk as she tossed an apple into the air and caught it.  "Too busy for your wife?"

That gave Kichiro pause, and he dropped his pen onto the papers as he slumped back in his chair.  "What?"

Nezumi shrugged.  "Don't be stupid.  You heard me."

"I'm not too busy for Belle," he grumbled.

"Maybe not," she agreed, biting into the apple as she hiked up her knee and spun around to face him.  "But you do tend to be a workaholic."

"Oh, hell.  I don't . . . I've just been busy."

"I hear you, and I believe you.  The question is how does Belle feel about it?"

"All right, Nez . . . If you have something to say, just say it, okay?"

She sighed.  "You know, I've always thought that you were the more intellectual, given the choice between you and Ryomaru.  I still think you're the smart twin, but sometimes I think that you're just a little . . ." She shook her head.  "It's like you get tunnel vision, and you can't quite see things that should be obvious."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that Belle . . ." Trailing off with a shake of her head and a tired sigh, she shrugged.  "Can I be honest?"

He held out his hands.  "Please."

"Well, Kich . . . she's . . . miserable."

He flinched.  Of course he'd realized that there was something wrong.  Thing was, how could he know for sure when Bellaniece refused to say anything?  He'd asked her . . . He'd asked her a few times.  She never wanted to talk about it; always pasting on a wan little smile and saying that she was fine, just fine . . . He'd known that she was unhappy, sure, but miserable?

"Nez . . ."

"No, listen, will you?  You know I don't like to interfere.  I hate it, actually, but . . ." She sighed and held out the apple.  Kichiro took it and stared at the pale flesh.  "But I was there today, you know?  Talking to Belle . . . I went to see if Yukitora was over there because Ryo was missing her . . . Anyway, when I got there . . ."

Kichiro winced.  "What?" he prompted when Nezumi trailed off.

Nezumi's cheeks pinked a little, and she grimaced.  "She'd been crying. I mean, she said she wasn't.  She said that she'd gotten dust in her eyes, but . . . I don't think so.  She just looked so . . . sad."

"Damn it . . ."

"When I found out that Ryomaru was a hunter . . . it was tough, remember?"

He nodded.

"I wondered back then if things would ever be the same, and . . . and I was . . . scared."

Kichiro nodded again, knowing how hard it was for Nezumi to talk to anyone about her feelings, and if she was willing to say all this now . . . He grimaced.  Just how badly had he screwed up with Bellaniece?

Nezumi sighed, rubbing her forehead with a delicate hand.  "I think that's how she feels, Kich.  I think that she's scared that everything's changing, and she just doesn't really understand why."

He didn't reply.  There wasn't a thing he could say, was there?  The best of his intentions didn't seem to matter at all, and the idea that Bellaniece had been crying . . . It turned his stomach.

Nezumi reached over to pat his shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile.  "I'm sorry if you don't think it's any of my business.  I just thought you should know.  She loves you, you baka."

Gritting his teeth for a moment, he jerked his head in a curt nod.  "I . . . I love her, too."

Nez chuckled.  "You should tell her that, don't you think?"

"She ought to know it," he grumbled, unable to meet Nezumi's bright gaze.

"She ought to, but maybe it's nice to hear, too."

Kichiro snorted.  "Keh.  Does Ryo tell you that all the time?"

Nezumi's gaze narrowed, and she slowly stood up, rubbing her hands over the baggy legs of her jeans.  "He doesn't have to tell me," she told him.  "He shows me all the time."

He stood and bowed to Nezumi.  Nezumi stared at him a moment before hurrying around the desk and quickly, awkwardly hugging him.  "Fix it, Kich.  I know you can."

Kichiro hugged her back and heaved a sigh.  "Thanks, Nez."

She leaned back, smiling slightly as she reached up to pat his cheek.  "You're welcome.  Now stop being a fool, will you?"

"I can't help it . . . I'm a man."

She rolled her eyes and laughed.  "Yeah, well, be a man in a different way.  Go home to your wife.  Your work . . . it'll still be here."

He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he watched Nezumi leave.

'Go home . . . to my wife . . .'

A slow smile spread on his face, and Kichiro reached out, pushed the button that connected to Mai's intercom.  "Yes, Izayoi-sensei?" the secretary greeted.

"Mai, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

Staring at the box on the shelf near the door that had been delivered via special courier earlier in the day, the smile on Kichiro's face widened.  "Cancel the rest of my appointments for the day . . . then take the afternoon off."

Mai didn't reply right away.  "Sensei?" she finally asked cautiously, uttering the title she rarely used.

"You heard me, Mai.  I'm not feeling very well.  I think I need to go home."

"Okay," Mai said.  He ignored the dubious tone underlying her acknowledgement.

Kichiro let go of the button and strode over, stopping just long enough to retrieve the box but foregoing the briefcase that he shuttled his research back and forth in.  'No work tonight,' he promised himself.  'Just Belle . . . only Belle . . .'


'Give that curve a little more depth.'

Cain ran his claw along the fine ridge in the clay, frowning in deep concentration though he didn't really see the sculpture at all.

'Nice, nice . . . Watch the angle of her jaw . . .'

Crossing his arms over his chest, he stepped back and shook his head, eyes narrowing as he looked over his work.  Gin was starting to emerge from the nondescript lump of clay.  Standing on her tiptoes as she struggled to reach the top of the snowman to place the small rocks she'd chosen to use for eyes, he couldn't help but grin at the memory that had inspired his latest work.

Rinsing off his hands in the small white bucket beside the worktable, Cain dried his hands on a rag towel as he wandered toward the window.  Chuckling when he spotted Gin sitting in the grass while Mikio crawled after Punkin, Cain was struck suddenly by the realization that seeing her like that . . . It just seemed right.

He winced.  Mikio wasn't theirs, and he knew that.  The same silver hair, the same ears and eyes . . . Would their children look like her?  Cain sighed.  The very idea of Gin being pregnant . . . 'Damn, she'd be cute, wouldn't she?'

His youkai chuckled.  'Yeah, she would be.'

'Not that she isn't cute now.'

'Of course she is.'

'Just something about the idea of a woman carrying your pup, I guess . . .'

Cain grimaced, idly rubbing his knuckles down the veil in the center of his chest as he turned away from the window and shuffled back to the work table once more.  'It . . . It wouldn't happen twice, would it?  What happened to Isabelle . . . It wouldn't happen to Gin . . .'

'It shouldn't.  Can't say it's impossible, but then, it's not likely, either.'

Dragging his hand over his face, he slowly shook his head.  He knew that it wasn't likely.  Gin was a different person, and despite her diminutive stature, he knew in his heart that she was stronger than Isabelle ever was.   Still the fear remained; as poignant and bitter as bile.  He knew—just knew—that Kagome had left Mikio with Gin more for his sake than for Gin's.  She'd wanted Cain to see how much Gin loved children; how badly Gin wanted one of her own.  He'd been able to brush the thought aside before because he hadn't been faced with the God-awful truth.  It wasn't something he could ignore anymore.  There was a certain tranquility about her that had been missing, and once her parents returned to Japan, how long would it be before it disappeared once more?

How fair was it, really?  Despite what might have happened in the past, Cain had the memories of Bellaniece, didn't he?  Gin didn't have that.  She didn't have a thing.  Could he really ask her to live forever without ever feeling the completeness of holding a child of her own, of watching that child grow and flourish, and while sometimes they lost their way and faltered, in the end . . . In the end, there were the memories.

'So give her what she needs, Cain.  You know what that is.  Would it really be so hard to do?'

Cain winced and heaved another sigh.  Hard?  No . . . He'd give anything to keep her happy; to have her smile at him; to make her laugh.  The trouble wasn't that, of course.  The problem was the fear that shook him to his very foundation.  The idea of losing Gin . . . It was something that he just couldn't face.

"There he is, Mikio!  I told you that boring old Cain would be holed up in here!"

"Boring?" he echoed, rounding to stare at his mate.

Gin grinned and bounced Mikio in her arms.  "He wanted to show you what he can do," she explained.

"Suck on a bottle and cry?"

Gin wrinkled her nose and shook her head.  "You're so mean," she pointed out.  "Now be nice or he won't show you."

"Okay, okay," Cain relented, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the table.

"On your knees, Zelig-sensei," Gin commanded as she sank down on her haunches.

Eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise.  "What was that?"

She giggled as she stood Mikio up between her knees.  "You heard me.  On your knees."

Chuckling softly, more amused than irritated at his mate's demand, Cain hunkered down and waited patiently for whatever she wanted to show him.

Leaning in beside the child's ear, Gin peeked at Cain as her smile widened.  "Go on, Mikio . . . Show Cain what you can do."

Gurgling happily, Mikio clapped his hands together and waved his hands in Cain's direction.

"Gin?" Cain asked quizzically as Mikio swayed slightly on his feet.

"Hold out your arms, Cain," she encouraged.

He did as she instructed.  Mikio uttered a joyful screech and shuffled his feet, stumbling but catching himself as he took a few tentative steps toward Cain.  He almost reached Cain, too, but his feet bumped together, and with a loud giggle, the child flopped down on his rear.  "He walked," Cain murmured, staring at Mikio as a slow grin spread over his face.

Gin laughed and scooped Mikio off the floor.  Mikio squirmed and reached for Cain.  "He took his first steps for me!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, he did," Cain agreed, taking the pup before he could squirm out of Gin's arms.  "Impressive . . . He must have more of his mother in him than InuYasha . . . Thank God for that."

Gin rolled her eyes but slipped her arms around both Cain and Mikio.  "You're mean, have I told you?"

"Yes, you have."

"Well, you are, Cain Zelig."

"M-M-Mean," Mikio intoned.  "Mean Zelig!"

Gin's mouth dropped open as she stared at her brother.  "Did you hear that, Cain?"

Cain laughed.  "Mean Zelig, huh?  I can live with that."

Gin shook her head.  "Mama will be so surprised!"

"Your mother might be surprised, but your hot-headed papa will be mad as hell," Cain predicted.

"Hell!" Mikio mimicked.

Gin winced.  "Cain!"

"Mean Cain!"

Cain struggled not to laugh as Mikio glanced back and forth, obviously waiting to hear what a good boy he was for talking.  "Let's see what else we can teach him to say," he drawled slowly, casting Gin a knowing glance.

She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands and shook her head violently.  "Don't you dare!"

He chuckled.  "Can you say nee-chan?  Nee-chan?"

Mikio glanced at Gin for a moment then grinned up at Cain, waving his hands wildly.  "Nee-e-e-ta-a-a . . .!"

"He said my name!" she whispered, eyes brightening as she blinked rapidly.

Cain smiled.  "Of course he did.  He loves his sister.  Who wouldn't?"  Kneeling again, he set Mikio on his feet.  Mikio waved his hands in excitement, left ear twitching as he shuffled forward a couple steps before falling again.  He whimpered a little, and Gin picked him up.

"Too much for one day, Mikio?"

Mikio sniffled, laying his head on Gin's shoulder as he idly fingered his ear.

"It's okay, sweetie.  Why don't you and I go take a nap?"

Mikio sighed, stuffing his free hand into his mouth.  Gin leaned up to kiss Cain's cheek.  Mikio popped his fingers out long enough to reach for Cain.  Cain shook his head slowly but gave in, following Gin up the stairs into the loft.  He wasn't actually tired, but Gin looked like she was, and someone needed to keep an eye on Mikio in case the pup managed to wiggle his way off the bed.

She curled up with Mikio in her arms as Cain stretched out on his side.  Mikio sighed, closing his eyes as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.  Cain propped his cheek on his hand and smiled sadly.  'She looks so natural like that, doesn't she?  With that pup in her arms . . . with that smile on her face . . .'

'It'll be hard for her, when her parents take him home.'

Cain's smile faltered, and he sighed.  'I know.'

'I mean, even if you can't do it, don't you owe it to her to think it over?'

'I've been thinking it over,' Cain argued.  'I've been thinking it over a lot.'

'If you love her—really love her . . .'

He grimaced.  If he loved her, he'd give her what she wanted; what she needed.  Unfortunately, that same love was the one thing holding him back, too.  Taking that chance with Gin . . . Did he love her enough to believe?