InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 8: Vendetta ❯ Remembrance ( Chapter 44 )

~~Chapter 44~~

~Remembrance~

 

-=0=-

 

 

“Afternoon, Doc.”

 

Kurt ignored the pleasantry as he stomped over to Harlan, grabbing him by the front of the shirt and bearing him back against the wall. The old man wheezed and grunted, tugging pathetically at Kurt's hands, unable to budge them. “You damned old fuck,” he growled as he slammed Harlan back again. “You try to spy on me again, and I swear on your grave, I'll yank down the barrier surrounding this place faster than you can say `Project Demon'. You got that?”

 

Kurt set the newspaper aside with a chuckle.

 

The little demon looked up from the paper carton of stir-fried beef that she'd been eating—she was frighteningly good with chopsticks—and blinked at him. “What's so funny?” she asked slowly.

 

He shook his head. “Oh, nothing . . .” he replied. “You want to read the comics?”

 

“I'm still eating,” she said, “and it's not nice to laugh and then to say that it's nothing . . . but you do have a nice one . . .”

 

He blinked and stared at her. “A nice what?”

 

She rolled her eyes as she popped a bite of beef into her mouth. “Laugh,” she muttered. She chewed and swallowed. “You should do it more often,” she stated matter-of-factly.

 

“Should I?”

 

She nodded and snagged another bite, but this time, she extended it to him. “So why were you laughing?”

 

He waved a hand to dismiss the food. “No real reason,” he replied. “Had a talk with Harlan on my way in, was all . . . so what did they do to you today?”

 

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head as though she didn't want to dwell on it. “What'd you talk to him for?”

 

“Told him not to try tapping the room again. I doubt he'll try . . .”

 

“Why do I get the feeling you manhandled him?” she asked with a hint of censure in her tone.

 

Kurt rolled his eyes. “He's not human; he's a bastard, and I didn't manhandle him . . . I just . . . roughed him up a little.”

 

She heaved a sigh and sat back, crossing her arms over her chest as she leveled a look at him. “Even bastards shouldn't be completely disrespected,” she pointed out.

 

“Tell it to the jury. Those asses deserve it. So tell me what they did to you today.”

 

She said nothing as she twisted her fingers in the hem of the oversized sweatshirt. She looked a million miles away, and he frowned. “Little demon?”

 

She shook herself suddenly and smiled—it was fake, and he knew it, but he didn't call her on it, either. “Nothing much,” she replied. “Are there other hunters like . . . like you?”

 

He frowned at the entirely too casual tone in her voice. “Other hunters?” he echoed. “Well, sure, but . . . but most of them don't really know what they're doing. They might have gotten lucky once or twice, but they're jokes, really. Why?”

 

She stood abruptly and chucked the leftovers into the trashcan. “No reason,” she lied.

 

“And you think I'm buying that?”

 

She shot him an almost guilty glance and shrugged. “They . . . they mentioned that one of them . . . Hastings?” she paused and looked at him, probably to see if he recognized the name. He did. Hastings, he knew, had actually caught at least one or two demons, but as far as Kurt could tell, those were entirely by accident. She grimaced. “They said that Hastings agreed to hunt for a . . . a male . . .”

 

“Really,” Kurt said flatly.

 

She nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Snorting as he got to his feet, he shook his head. “Don't worry about it. Hastings is a joke, but even then . . . Just don't worry, all right?”

 

She didn't look completely reassured, but she did relax a little.

 

He eyed her for a moment. “Come here.”

 

She did as she was told. He frowned as he stared at her, as he felt her forehead. “Are you all right?” he asked. She was pale, wasn't she? Even a little warm . . .

 

“I'm okay,” she assured him with a smile that was almost believable.

 

“You're sure?”

 

She nodded. “Maybe this place is just getting to me . . .”

 

He didn't fully believe her. Sure, he believed that the facility was getting to her, but he didn't think for a second that it was the reason she was a little pale . . . Unfortunately, he knew damn well that she wasn't going to tell him if she wasn't feeling all right, either. `Stubborn little demon . . .'

 

She shuffled over to the cot and curled up, and it didn't take long for her to go to sleep, either, which wasn't really surprising, he figured. She hadn't slept so well the night before, if at all . . .

 

Still, he didn't have any time to lose, either. He'd finished watching the backlog of videos before he'd come in for the night, and he could safely say that he was about ninety-nine percent certain that they hadn't thought to put a tracker in her. He supposed that they were just showing their own arrogance in that oversight, which was just fine, as far as he was concerned. After everything else he'd seen that they'd done to her, it was a small compensation, really . . .

 

Sparing a minute, he walked over to her and pulled the coarse blanket up over her, tucking her in as though she were little more than a child as the barest hint of a smile touched his lips. Even as the time drew closer, and even though he knew that she needed to be set free, the idea of never seeing her again . . . It was painful . . .

 

She'd taught him a lot without really trying, hadn't she? Taught him that sometimes, things weren't as they appeared, and while he knew damn well that she never was the monster that he'd wanted so desperately to believe, she'd done so much more than that, hadn't she? Taught him things that he hadn't wanted to learn . . .

 

The little demon . . .

 

Heaving a sigh, Kurt shook his head and rubbed a tired hand over his face. `No rest for the wicked,' he thought wryly as he trudged over to the monitor panel. Just a few more details, right? A few more things to hammer out in his head . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Evan scowled at the barren room; no more than a cell. It was the only one in the entire building that had any furniture in it, at all, not that it did a fat lot of good. He couldn't sense any lingering youki here, though he was starting to realize that it was likely because of the barrier outside. `Damn it . . .'

 

“This whole building feels eerie,” Bas muttered as he opened and closed drawers. “Like . . . like my youki is being drawn out . . .”

 

“Or being repressed,” Kagome said as she stepped into the room right behind InuYasha. It hadn't taken her long to remove the barrier: actually, she'd just stepped through it and pulled down the ofuda on either side of the frame. She'd mentioned that it would have been harder had the person who had constructed the barrier been meditating on it to strengthen it. Obviously, the person who had put it up either hadn't considered the idea that they might have someone like Kagome—someone both human as well as possessing enough spiritual power to have no trouble removing the ofuda, in the first place, or they just didn't care . . . Evan figured it was the first of those reasons.

 

“Keh! What the hell? So you're saying this building is a giant Fuyouheki?” InuYasha demanded.

 

“Well, kind of,” Kagome said. “Same idea, anyway . . .”

 

Gunnar shook his head. “I can't feel her here,” he admitted grudgingly. “And even then . . .”

 

“I can smell someone,” InuYasha stated. “If we just follow that scent—”

 

“Won't matter, old man,” Evan said with a shake of his head. “I only smell that guy—the one I saw in the building before, and he was just looking it over to rent it.” Cabinets, a rickety old table . . . nothing much—not nearly enough.

 

“Damn it . . .”

 

“Is that really surprising?” Kagome interrupted. “Didn't you guys say that this entire place is like a giant youki vacuum?”

 

“There's gotta be something around here,” InuYasha grumbled though he nodded to indicate that he heard Kagome's comments. “It just don't make sense, damn it . . .”

 

Kagome stood back and let the men do the searching. They had the better noses, anyway. There was something familiar about it, though, wasn't there? But she couldn't figure out why . . . It felt as though someone she knew was here, and while she hesitated to say that it was Samantha, she couldn't help but feel that something was entirely too . . . `Too . . . what . . .?'

 

“I can't smell a damn thing in here other than that guy,” Bas stated irritably.

 

Evan frowned and straightened up. He had been looking under the bed. “It just don't make sense. If that guy was only here to look around, why's the entire place smell like him?”

 

“I was wondering that, myself,” Bas muttered.

 

Gunnar nodded. Judging from the look on his face, he'd already thought about that, himself. “Me, too.”

 

“What's he look like?” InuYasha demanded.

 

Evan rubbed his eye and shrugged. “Black hair . . . violet eyes . . . not short . . . maybe six feet tall or so . . .”

 

The men exchanged looks and nodded. “Evan, take Kagome back to the hotel,” InuYasha instructed. “And get some sleep, baka pup . . .”

 

Evan slipped an arm around his grandmother, but Bas didn't miss the peculiar glint in Evan's eye, either. “He's not going to listen to you, old man, after he takes Grandma back to the hotel.

 

InuYasha snorted indelicately as he stomped out of the room in the wake of his grandson and grand-nephew. “Yeah, I didn't figure he would,” he said. To be honest, he'd have been surprised if that particular pup did do as he was told . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

The warped and twisted Disney Word . . . a thousand voices, a thousand sounds of gnashing teeth . . .

 

Claws, fangs, glowering eyes in the darkness . . .

 

“Don't run that way! Caroline!”

 

Dashing through the cloistering crowds, chasing the little girl . . . “We have to go see her!” she hollered. “C'mon, Kurt! C'mon!”

 

“Caroline!”

 

She ran faster and faster, her hair streaming out behind her. Running, running . . . always running . . .

 

He grimaced and shoved a demon away; a demon with a beast's face—a demon that was trying to grab Caroline . . . She was leading Kurt, peering over her shoulder, her voice echoing through the air. “C'mon, Kurt! C'mon!”

 

She screamed as a hideously twisted creature lunged in front of her, yanked her off the ground by her arm. Flinging her around like a rag doll, her shrieks rising, loud and long, rattling through him with a voracious tenacity. “Let her go!” he opened his mouth to bellow. No sound could be heard over the din. `But she's already dead,' a voice in his head kept repeating. `Dead, dead, dead . . .'

 

He yelled her name as the swell of a thousand demonic voices chimed in, a crazy chorus uttered in guttural groans and grunts, a bloodlust so debilitating that it seemed to take on a recognizable tone, a throbbing pulse . . .

 

The pulse grew louder, louder, deafeningly loud. Kurt smashed his hands over his ears as he crumpled to his knees. The unified sound was too much for him, wasn't it? His arms felt leaden, heavy, awful. The demon that had grabbed Caroline hefted her high over his head, opening a beak-like mouth, unleashing an unnatural howl.

 

Another lurched forward, the earth shaking under its gangly feet, the plodding steps escalating faster and faster. Leaping into the air, grabbing hold of her hair, it gave a vicious jerk, a yank.

 

“No!” Kurt yelped without making a sound. “ No . . .!”

 

Too much or not enough . . . those monsters passed her head around, over the masses as her blood rained down on them, bathed them in the crimson shades of a faded moon . . .

 

“Taijya! Hey! Taijya! Wake up! Please wake up . . .”

 

The insistent voice was like an invisible pull, dragging at his subconscious, pulling him back. He started to slide through the mass of demons. As if they'd just noticed him, they snatched at him, grabbed at him, but the soft but insistent voice continued to draw on him . . .

 

“It's just a dream! A dream! Taijya, open your eyes!”

 

With a gasp, a start, he jerked awake, eyes wide, dilated in the half-dark. The little demon stood beside him—he'd fallen asleep in the chair as he'd watched the footage of the day's testing, hadn't he? “It-she-they,” he babbled.

 

“It's all right; it's okay,” she murmured, crooned, smoothing his sweat-matted hair back off his face. “It's just a dream,” she said. “It's just a dream, and dreams can't hurt you . . .”

 

“C-can't they?” he whispered, the pain in his chest refusing to let go. He grasped her wrist, not tightly enough to hurt her, but firmly, forcing her to look at him. “They . . . they can, you know,” he told her. “They can, and they do . . .”

 

“But they shouldn't,” she said. “They shouldn't.”

 

He let go of her wrist, slumped back in the chair, smashing the balls of his palms over his eyes. “I was . . . I was seven . . . you know? Seven . . .”

 

Pushing herself onto the desk in front of the monitors, she said nothing, as though she were content to let him say whatever it was he wanted to tell her.

 

“My . . . my mom and dad and . . . and Carrie—Caroline. These . . . monsters—demons. I came home from school, and they . . .”

 

“Youkai killed your family,” she whispered. “I'm sorry . . .”

 

He shook his head, not so much to refute her, but because . . . maybe the years of carrying it around inside . . . maybe . . . “I just . . . stood at the back door, staring inside. I wanted to help them, but I . . . I was afraid, and . . .” He uttered a terse laugh, a bitter thing, then choked it off with a stifled sob. “I was just a kid. What the hell could I do then?”

 

“Why?” she murmured then grimaced, likely thinking that she'd asked a stupid question.

 

“Old Granger said . . . said they came after us—came after me—because I could . . . because I could see what they were.” Unable to repress the surge of anger that rose inside him, he shook his head. “I was a kid,” he repeated helplessly. “I didn't know I wasn't . . . wasn't supposed to see it—them. I thought everyone could.”

 

“It wasn't your fault,” she said, her voice taking on a harder edge. “You can't think it was because—”

 

“It was,” he interrupted quietly. “I know it was. After I got out of the hospital where they put me after . . . after all that, I went to live with my aunt and uncle. I don't know how long I was with them . . . a month? Maybe two? And they thought that we could go camping . . . It was starting to get cold so . . . so I guess I was eight by then . . . And they . . . they came again: the-the demons . . .”

 

“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh . . .”

 

Taking a deep breath, Kurt swallowed hard and met her gaze, unable to comprehend the tears that stood in her eyes. “I see them in my nightmares,” he admitted quietly. “But . . . nobody is how they should be . . . bits and pieces and parts and . . . and so much blood . . .”

 

She stared at him for a long time, an emotion in her gaze that he couldn't quite place: a sense of finality, as though she finally understood . . . as though the things that she realized made perfect sense to her.

 

He cleared his throat and shook his head, gathering his thoughts as best as he could. “That's why,” he finally murmured. “I promised I'd find the ones that killed my family. I promised that they'd pay—not because I'm an avenger or for any sense of misplaced nobility. I want to kill them so those nightmares go away . . . because I'm . . . I'm selfish and petty and . . .”

 

“You're neither selfish nor petty,” she corrected him, her ears drooping slightly even as she smiled. “You want to fight back now because you couldn't as a child—for yourself . . . and for your family.”

 

He blinked and started to shake his head, wanted to refute what she'd stated, but . . .

 

She'd made it sound so simple, hadn't she? So very simple when nothing in the world was ever quite so cut and dried. Or did she really understand him so well? How could she? What was it about her that was able to comprehend things that he'd spent a lifetime, struggling to understand?

 

Too much anger, too much pain, and a lifetime of bitterness that he'd believed was his legacy . . . He'd thought so often that it was all he'd ever have, and the ugliest truth of them all was that maybe he was more than a little afraid—afraid of letting go of her . . . afraid of losing the this beautiful—horrifyingly beautiful—thing . . .

 

“You've been alone for a long, long time, haven't you?” she said, more of a statement than a question, really.

 

“No, I . . .” Trailing off, he couldn't finish that thought. It was true, wasn't it? Even though he'd been taken in by Old Granger . . . and yet he couldn't recall even one incident where the old man had ever reached out to him, touched him, cared for him. Hell, he'd gone for months at a time without talking at all, hadn't he? He was too old to need that sort of thing now, or so he'd thought. He'd thought . . .

 

“Everybody needs somebody,” she said as a silvery tear slipped from the corner of her eye, “and a child . . . a child needs people—people who love him and cherish him and make him laugh . . . and let him know that it's all right to cry sometimes, too.”

 

He winced and reached out, brushing away the solitary tear with trembling fingers. “Don't cry for me, little demon,” he said. “I'm the last person who deserves it.”

 

She shook her head as her smile widened. Touched with an innate sense of sadness, of loss: the radiant smile of a condemned angel . . . “It's not because you deserve it. I'm more selfish than that, too, you see.”

 

He shook his head, unable to grasp the meaning of her riddles and her sad little smile.

 

He shook his head, unable to grasp the meaning of her riddles and her sad little smile. “You're not . . . not selfish,” he rasped out, his throat constricting around the words even as he struggled to say them. “The . . . the very last thing you are . . .”

 

“But I am . . .” She drew a quivering breath as her smile trembled on her lips; as another tear fell. “I'm selfish, too . . . because that's all I can give you—all I'll ever be able to give you.”

 

His gaze fell away from hers, unable to keep the contact. In that moment, in that instant . . .

 

She was so far away that he knew deep down that he'd never, ever be able to touch her; that she belonged only in a place where the ugliness that surrounded her wouldn't break her, couldn't tarnish her . . .

 

In a world—in a time—in a space where a man like him could never exist . . .

 

 

~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~= ~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~

A/N:

Fuyouheki: un-magic barrier. Reference in the InuYasha manga was around chapter 337. It was the barrier created to conceal Naraku's heart and anchored by a protecting stone—mamori ishi.

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Final Thought from Kurt:

She's … beyond me …

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Vendetta): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~