InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 8: Vendetta ❯ Daddy ( Chapter 81 )

~~Chapter 81~~

~Daddy~

 

-=0=-

 

 

“So are you having any luck finding information?” Cain asked, leaning his elbow on the desk as he sipped a cup of coffee.

 

Kurt frowned and shook his head. “Not much. Not really,” he allowed. “I could get a better handle on it if I went there, but . . . but at the moment, I don't think that's a viable option.”

 

Cain considered that with a marked frown. “And Samantha?”

 

“I told her about all this. If I do eventually have to go, she's all right with it.” He shrugged. “She said that she wants these places closed down as badly as I do, but . . .”

 

“But?” Cain prompted when Kurt trailed off.

 

Rubbing his eyes, Kurt shook his head. “When I was working in Chicago, I'd heard rumors that there was another facility in Prague, too. Nothing concrete, though, but I'd heard it from a couple sources. Even then, as much as I want these places shut down, I'd breathe better if I knew that the hunters I know of were out of commission before I got on a plane heading anywhere else.”

 

Cain nodded. “Prague?”

 

Kurt sighed. “Samantha's already looking into it. She wants to stay home with Tanny, but she wants to help with the intelligence gathering side of it, too. I think . . . I think that it's something she needs to do for herself.”

 

“That's fine with me. I just don't want her out there in the field. One close call was enough, I think . . .”

 

Kurt didn't reply to that though he was inclined to agree. “Still, I know of about six guys who hunt youkai for these places—at least, they did until I shut them down. Maybe it'd be better to clean house here before worrying about the ones overseas, to start with.”

 

“And what would you do to these hunters?”

 

Kurt shrugged and reached for the cup of coffee that Gin had set on the edge of the desk for him. “What else? Put trackers in them. Keep tabs on them. Ask them nicely if they have information on any other facilities . . . suggest they find new lines of work . . .”

 

Cain grimaced. “You're not going to hack anything off of any of them, are you?” he asked pointedly.

 

Kurt almost smiled—almost. “Wasn't planning on it, no,” he agreed.

 

Only then did Cain relax. Sort of. “These others you know of . . . can they see us, too?”

 

Kurt shook his head and snorted. “Nope. They just got lucky a time or two.”

 

The soft rustle of the door opening drew their attention, and Kurt blinked as Tanny slipped into the room. She smiled brilliantly at him, her huge, dark eyes shining happily. She carried a pretty pink platter in her hands, and on that platter were about a dozen fluffy, pink frosted cupcakes with various sprinkles. “Cupcakes!” she announced with a proud sort of smile.

 

Kurt bit his lip. For some reason, he wasn't entirely sure that Tanny's cupcakes were going to go over very well . . .

 

Surprisingly, though, Cain only smiled at the girl. “Those look good, Tanny. Did Mommy make those for you?”

 

Tanny shot Cain an entirely suspect glance. “Gwanny Gin,” she replied.

 

Kurt stifled a sigh as Cain slowly stood up, the smile on his face dissipating fast. “Run, Stinky-butt,” he muttered under his breath when the tai-youkai started around the desk to intercept her. Tanny squawked and scooted out of the room before he could catch her.

 

“Oh! Careful, sweetie,” Gin said, patting Tanny on the head when the girl nearly collided with her in her haste to escape. She ducked behind Gin's legs and peered out from behind her.

 

“Gin!” Cain complained. “She's got my cupcakes.”

 

Gin shot Cain a quizzical glance. “No, she doesn't. She has her cupcakes.”

 

Cain snorted, draping his hands on his hips as he narrowed his eyes on the girl. Tanny stuck out her tongue in retaliation. “Listen, woman, the only person you make cakes for is me, remember?”

 

Gin's mouth fell open. Kurt blinked. Why did he have the very distinct impression that this was going to get really, really ugly . . .? “Cain?”

 

“What?”

 

Gin cleared her throat. “Did you just call me . . . woman?”

 

He snorted. “Yes, I believe I did—woman.”

 

Gin's ears flicked in a way that Kurt recognized from having seen Samantha's do exactly the same about ten seconds before she let him have it for whatever he'd said wrong at the time—and he grimaced as he got up and tried to slip out of the room without drawing notice—no small feat, considering the two were blocking the doorway. “She's a little girl—and your first great-granddaughter, you know,” Gin pointed out stiffly.

 

Cain shrugged. “The only reason she wants those is because she knows they're mine!” he retorted.

 

“Now, Cain, I made a big cake for you, and I made the little ones for her. They're just cupcakes, so—”

 

“Yeah, that's right! Cake, Gin! Cake! Cup or pan, with or without a prefix, doesn't matter when the word `cake' is in the name!”

 

Gin heaved a frustrated sigh and slowly shook her head as Kurt grasped Tanny's shoulders and quickly hurried her away from the altercation. “Zelig-sensei, you're acting like a five-year-old.”

 

Cain snorted. “Whatever, baby girl, and don't even try to tell me that you wouldn't be upset if I gave away your Reese's peanut butter cups.”

 

Checking his watch as he strode out of the office with Tanny following along behind him, he made a face. Cain had called him into his office to remind him that he and Samantha had an appointment with a judge in Bevelle regarding the adoption. He'd pulled a few strings to get the adoption hurried along, but this was just a preliminary placement meeting to grant Samantha and him temporary custody of Tanny until the actual adoption went through.

 

The only real problem, as far as Kurt could tell, was the idea that they weren't married, though Cain had also commented that this judge in particular was youkai and therefore understood the situation easily enough.

 

Still, the old cynicism that was embedded deep within him was too hard to ignore. Was it really going to be that simple? He sighed, glancing down at Tanny as she trotted along beside him.

 

Samantha was still in the back yard where he'd left her earlier. She was visiting with her aunt-slash-cousin, Jillian—he still didn't comprehend exactly how the family worked, but it wasn't entirely surprising that the bent-ness stemmed from Cain Zelig, himself. Tanny squealed when she spotted Samantha and ran to her, carefully balancing the cupcakes as she went.

 

Jillian was fussing with a very expensive-looking camera. “You know, Tanny is entirely photogenic,” she commented as she peered through the lens then lowered it to adjust it a little more. “Just a doll-baby!”

 

Samantha smiled and straightened a bow in Tanny's hair. “You want to have your picture taken, sweetie?” she asked in the child's ear.

 

Tanny blinked around a mouthful of cupcake—and she had frosting all over her face and smeared on the tip of her nose, too. “Tanny?” she asked instead.

 

Jillian laughed. “I've got some candy, yes . . . and you can have it if you let me take your picture.”

 

“Sam, we've got an hour before we have to be at the courthouse,” Kurt reminded her.

 

Samantha nodded. “Okay. Tanny, why don't you let Jilli take your picture? Granny Gin's in the house, too.”

 

Tanny nodded as Samantha stood up and set the girl into the high-backed, white wicker chair that she'd just vacated. “You think she'll be all right?” he asked as Samantha took his hand and started back toward the house.

 

She laughed and shook her head. “She'll be just fine. Jilli's good with babies.”

 

“As long as she keeps her away from your grandfather. He's all pissed off about the cupcakes.”

 

Samantha bit her lip but couldn't staunch the giggle that surged out of her. “They'll be fine.”

 

Kurt snorted. “Your family's bent,” he told her as they headed around the side of the mansion. “All of them—you, especially.”

 

“Oh?” she teased, her voice dropping an octave as her gaze took on a hazy glow that he knew a little too well.

 

“Oh, no,” he grumbled, cheeks pinking as he stubbornly shook his head. “We have to get to town, and even if we didn't, I still remember what happened the last time you talked me into doing that . . .”

 

She let her head fall back as a trill of laughter escaped her. True enough, about the moment they'd stepped off the stairs that led to the mansion from the beach below—damn, but he'd been in a really good mood at the time—he'd blinked when three men pulled swords on him. They'd been `practicing', or so they'd said—Kurt was inclined to believe that they were really lying in wait to lynch him—and they'd made no bones about knowing exactly what had happened during Kurt and Samantha's stolen moments. Worse yet was that Samantha had clapped her hands over her mouth and giggled, muttering something about, “Oh, yeah, I forgot that you didn't already smell like me . . .”

 

Then she'd actually abandoned him, leaving him at the mercy of Gunnar, Ryomaru, and Evan, who had spent the next couple hours informing Kurt of every bad habit that Samantha possessed or that they could make up, and even Griffin, the hard-to-read bear-youkai had helped them out . . .

 

He slowly shook his head but smiled when he caught hers. She made it entirely too easy to do that, didn't she? She really, really did . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Kichiro stood in the window, staring at the yard stretched out below with a marked scowl on his features as he slowly, methodically sipped his coffee.

 

`Damn it . . .'

 

How the hell had all of this happened? He'd thought that if he left Samantha alone—if he didn't pressure her . . . He'd honestly believed . . .

 

Well, he had thought that she'd realize that he was right, that Drevin wasn't even close to being good enough of a man for her. At least, that was what he'd wanted to think.

 

`Damn it.'

 

He sighed. Last week during the fight designed to let the others test Drevin to see exactly what he was capable of, Kichiro had seen it for himself: the truth of Samantha's feelings, written in her eyes when she'd looked at Drevin, and . . .

 

And Drevin's feelings had been a little too obvious, even from the very start. To be completely truthful, Samantha's expression . . . that was what had stopped him. He'd wanted to step up; wanted to beat Drevin black and blue. Looking at his daughter's face, though . . .

 

So he'd pushed the rage down yet again, squeezing it to the back of his mind as the entirety of his frustration rose to choke him, but he'd tamped it down for her—for Samantha, making yet another concession that simply didn't feel right to him in the least.

 

Kichiro sighed and drained the last of the coffee with a grimace. The problem wasn't that. Oh, he'd really wanted to believe everything he'd said about Stockholm Syndrome and all that, and maybe in the beginning, he'd honestly thought that it was a possibility. After all, Samantha had gained weight after returning home, hadn't she? She had believed that he'd come for her, and that was why she hadn't broken down at all . . . She'd known . . .

 

But once he'd gotten there—when he'd sent her away . . .

 

No, the real truth of it was far simpler yet far more complex than that. He knew, didn't he? Knew that Samantha was far too intelligent to let herself be swayed by some misplaced sense of gratitude. `Damn it . . . anyone but him . . .'

 

Rubbing his forehead, he frowned at the little girl—Tanny—his first granddaughter—sitting at the tiny tea table that Jillian had set up in the yard to take her picture. Ribbons and lace and ruffles and giggles that blended in his head with another laugh that had existed years ago in another country, in another home, and while that little girl had grown into a woman, Kichiro had to wonder . . .

 

Samantha and that man were mates, fine, but Kichiro wasn't entirely certain that he'd ever be able to look Drevin in the eye without seeing those images that were burned into his brain, those debilitating atrocities that Samantha had endured, and all because of Drevin's prejudice, and like it or not—fair or not—Drevin's family had been destroyed, yes, but they hadn't been tortured, now had they? They hadn't been strapped to tables and humiliated in every single way imaginable. Did making excuses and spouting bullshit about the capriciousness of fate mean that one shouldn't be held accountable for their misdeeds in the present?

 

Bellaniece had told him the story—told him what had happened to Drevin's family, and as much as Kichiro tried to sympathize, he just couldn't. Memories of those endless days spend worrying, wondering, hoping, even when everything had seemed impossible . . . Kami, he couldn't shake them, couldn't get them out of his head, and while everyone else might be able to forgive him or at least try, Kichiro couldn't; simply couldn't . . .

 

Drevin would understand one day, wouldn't he? When that child grew up and left home, when she made choices that he might not like but had to face, he'd understand . . . Or maybe he wouldn't. Kichiro's stomach felt as though it were tied in knots. No, to be honest, he prayed that neither of them ever truly understood that kind of pain, that kind of heartache, that kind of helplessness.

 

That was the thing, wasn't it? Kichiro . . . he'd have given anything to have traded places with Samantha, to have saved her the humiliation and anguish inflicted upon her. He'd have given his life to save her from having to go through any of that because that's what a father did . . . His daughter, his precious little girl . . .

 

`Balls, Kich . . . you know damn well that all Sam really wants is to be happy—something you've always said you wanted for her, too.'

 

Heaving a sigh at his youkai voice's cryptic words, Kichiro shook his head. `It's not that I don't want her to be happy,' he argued stubbornly. `That guy . . . he nearly destroyed her. Okay, sure, what happened to his family—that's sad, and yeah, I feel bad for that. No pup should have to go through that, should he? Even so . . . what he did to Sam . . .'

 

`Look, Kich. I'm not saying you need to forgive him right away, and I think that Sam could understand that, too, but . . . but as long as he's good to her . . .'

 

He snorted and tried to block out the voice in his head. Why? Why was it that everyone—everyone—insisted on trying to make him feel bad for his anger? Why couldn't they understand that he had every right to be angry? If they wanted to make nice to Drevin, that was fine, wasn't it? Kichiro . . . he couldn't. He wasn't able to. He really couldn't make himself do that; not yet—maybe not ever.

 

Thing was, he was trying; he really was. Maintaining a stony silence around him, a carefully contained civility . . . it was all he could do, especially when all he really wanted was for Drevin to know the pain that he'd endured for those three months. There weren't enough tears in him to even begin to give an inch. Yet he didn't go out of his way to be nasty to Drevin or even to speak ill of him, at least in front of Samantha or the child. No, his thoughts were reserved for moments like this one . . .

 

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned away from the window. He was bordering on mental exhaustion, and he knew it. Everything around him felt as though it were falling to shit. Bellaniece was quite vocal in her insistence that Kichiro try to come to terms with Drevin. Kichiro would be damned if he would. To be entirely honest, he wasn't sure that he could. All he'd ever wanted was to keep his daughter safe, and he'd be damned—damned—if he'd apologize for it, for his concern.

 

A stubborn glint entered his gaze as a hard expression tightened his features. As for the rest of them? Well, as far as he was concerned, they could all just back the fuck off, couldn't they, because the day he'd apologize for worrying about his children would be the day he died . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Samantha giggled as Kurt narrowed his eyes at the rows of assorted teddy bears lining the shelves in the small toy store. He'd already picked up a few of them and put them back again, citing silly things about each one that made it too imperfect to give to Tanny on such a special occasion.

 

She was officially their ward, at least for the next six months, until the adoption was officially finalized. The judge was more than happy to do a personal favor for the tai-youkai, and he'd gotten the waiting time reduced from one year to six months, just for Cain, though Samantha secretly wondered if the favor weren't ultimately for Gin since the man had asked about her a number of times . . .

 

“What about that one?” she asked, nodding at the bear he was inspecting at the moment.

 

Kurt sighed and shook his head, stuffing the bear back onto the shelf before reaching toward the back of the rack for a tan colored, nappy-haired, white-dress-clad bear. “That one's nose was crooked.”

 

Samantha covered her mouth with the back of her hand and leaned against his shoulder. “And that one?”

 

“There's a smudge on her dress,” he muttered, putting that one back, too.

 

“That one's cute,” she commented as she stared at the next bear he picked up.

 

“It's ass is crooked,” he declared.

 

She rolled her eyes, gathering her hair in her hand to flip it back over her shoulder. “It is not,” she contended.

 

Kurt shot her a completely blank sort of look. “It was, and I'll tell you, if a bear has a crooked ass, it lops over when you set it on the bed.”

 

Her lips twitched, but she didn't laugh. “You've given that a lot of thought, haven't you?”

 

He ignored her commentary as he continued to eye the assortment of stuffed bears.

 

“So the judge said that we could start writing her name as Tanny Drevin, right?” he asked at length.

 

Samantha nodded, reaching for a bear in a doctor's coat. “Yes.”

 

Kurt slapped her hand away. “My idea. I get to pick the bear,” he informed her.

 

She laughed and kissed his cheek. “Tell me something,” she drawled, crossing her arms over her chest so that she would refrain from reaching for a toy.

 

“Hmm?” he murmured since he was eyeing another bear.

 

“Are you going to ask me to marry you?”

 

He froze for a full minute then slowly stuck the bear back on the shelf before he turned to gaze at her. “I . . . I want to,” he admitted.

 

She frowned at the strange sense of foreboding in his tone. “But . . .?” she filled in.

 

He let out a deep breath, narrowing his eyes as though he were trying to figure something out. “I don't want to rush anything,” he replied, and while she could sense the truth in his words, she could also sense the lie.

 

“You don't want to,” she said slowly, haltingly.

 

He shook his head. “It's not that; I swear it isn't,” he told her then grimaced. “It's just . . . your family . . . they won't like it. I mean, I know that they understand that we . . . that you . . .” Blushing slightly, he waved a hand as though to dismiss whatever he'd been about to say. “Well, I know that they understand, but if we told them we wanted to get married right now, don't you think that'd be kind of like rubbing salt into the proverbial wounds?”

 

She bit her lip. On the one hand, she could appreciate what he was saying. It really did bother him that her family wasn't completely supportive of their decision to be together, and she loved him for that; she really did, but . . . But he was the one for her—the only one, and while her family might not wholeheartedly approve, they loved her unconditionally, too. “My family just wants me to be happy,” she told him with a wan smile, “and since you're the one who makes me happy, then I suppose that they'll just have to deal with that.”

 

He didn't look entirely convinced, but he did manage a hint of a smile. Still, his eyes were troubled, and though he tried to hide it, he couldn't; not from her. “I will do it one day,” he told her, almost as an afterthought. She knew better. “I'll marry you, and . . . and . . .”

 

She forced a brighter smile than she was feeling, but it seemed to do the trick. He shot her a shy, almost boyish grin as he turned toward the shelf once more.

 

“Uh . . . oh . . .”

 

Samantha blinked and laughed at the bear that he'd pulled off the shelf. Wearing a simple white tee-shirt with pale blue lettering that proclaimed it to be `Candy Bear' it was holding a large plastic lollipop in its paw.

 

“You don't think she'll try to eat that, do you?” he asked a little reluctantly.

 

She laughed again and shook her head. “I think it's perfect,” she told him.

 

Kurt eyed the bear for a long moment then nodded, but his gaze was already caught on the other side of the aisle—the board games—one in particular: Candyland . . .

 

Her smile faded but didn't disappear. Her family was coming around, slowly but surely, and that was enough, she figured. She wasn't naïve enough to think that they'd forget what his part in the entire affair had been, but they were coming to terms with him on his own merit. Even Bellaniece had smiled at him last night at dinner, and maybe it wasn't a huge smile, but it was genuine and welcoming. That had meant more to Samantha than she could put into words: a small concession, but a concession, nonetheless . . .

 

`And your father?'

 

Heaving an inward sigh under her breath, Samantha bit her lip. `Papa will come around, too,' she told herself. He'd see for himself that Kurt was a good man—every bit as good as Griffin and John . . .

 

`That might just be wishful thinking, dollbaby,' her youkai voice warned.

 

Samantha shook her head, unable to believe that. Her father was one of the fairest people she knew, and sure, he was upset, and with good reason, but she couldn't believe that he'd begrudge her this. He'd always taught her never to judge a person by a single action, right? He'd come around . . . He had to . . .

 

 

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

A/N:

Candyland is a product of the Milton-Bradley Company (Hasbro).

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Final Thought from Kurt:

…Marriage …?

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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~