InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 8: Vendetta ❯ Beautiful ( Chapter 87 )

~~Chapter 87~~

~Beautiful~

 

-=0=-

 

 

“You look beautiful . . .”

 

Samantha blinked and smiled as her mother slipped into the room with a cup of chamomile tea and a trembling smile on her lips. “Thank you,” she said, giving her mother a careful hug before taking the tea. “I . . . I can't believe it . . .”

 

“Careful, Mama, or you'll wrinkle her,” Isabelle chided as she fussed with the simple yet elegant skirt of the wedding dress that Samantha had chosen.

 

Samantha giggled. “I don't mind if I'm a little wrinkled.”

 

Tanny dashed over to stand in front of the floor-length mirror, watching herself as she spun around, her skirt belling out around her.

 

“Well, don't you look precious, sweetie?” Alexandra said, stopping Tanny mid-spin with a tight hug and a kiss on her cheek. Tanny shrieked in happy laughter and tried to pull away.

 

“My puppy says that the groom is close to hyperventilating,” Sydnie commented as she slipped into the room, patting her hair in a self-conscious sort of way. “I suppose that means that everything is progressing as it should.”

 

Samantha laughed and shook her head. “Is Evan taking it easy on him?”

 

Sydnie rolled her eyes. “I doubt it.”

 

“Think of the bright side, Samantha,” Kagome commented as she hurried into the room from the adjoining bathroom, “Cain did forbid weapons at the wedding, so at least no one will be trying to maim your husband-to-be.”

 

A loud thumping on the door made Samantha jump. A moment later, InuYasha slammed it open with a menacing scowl on his face. “Wench! Fix this!” he hollered, gesturing at the open tie hanging around his neck.

 

Kagome slowly shook her head and handed Bellaniece a corsage. “Kami save me from demented hanyous,” she muttered under her breath as she strode past them to herd her husband out of the room once more.

 

“Fucking monkey suits! Why the hell do I have to wear this?” InuYasha grumbled as Kagome shoved him outside.

 

“Because you look handsome in it, dog-boy!” she shot back, pulling the door closed again.

 

“Keh!”

 

Alexandra covered her smile with the back of her hand and tried not to laugh too loudly. Isabelle wasn't nearly as covert.

 

“Let me get a picture,” Bellaniece insisted as she watched Samantha kneel down to fuss with Tanny's skirt.

 

She snapped the image and smiled. “My baby's all grown up,” she murmured a little sadly.

 

“Mama . . .”

 

Bellaniece waved her hand and laughed despite the tears standing in her eyes. “You just promise me that you'll be happy,” she insisted.

 

Samantha nodded. “I am, Mama . . .” Her smile faltered as she slowly got to her feet again. “I want you to make up with Papa,” she said quietly.

 

Bellaniece's smile widened. “Don't you worry about your papa and me,” she replied. “We're fine.”

 

Samantha shook her head. “You slept in a guest room last night, Mama,” she pointed out gently. “I know you did, and I—”

 

“Don't worry about them,” Alexandra cut in with a falsely bright laugh. “I think they fight just so that they can make up, right Mama?”

 

Bellaniece forced a little laugh. Samantha knew better. Her parents never fought—never—and she hated that they were now because of her . . . “Kurt wanted to wait,” she admitted. “But I didn't. He wanted to give Papa more time to get used to things, but . . . I just want to be with him. I just want to be happy . . .”

 

“Sweetie . . . you know, right? That's all your father wants, too. He's just . . . just worried; that's all, and he does love you. He loves all of you girls.”

 

Samantha nodded, though she could feel the thinness of her smile. In fact, it was the only real shadow hanging over her wedding, and it struck her once more that it just didn't feel right. Still . . .

 

Still, she knew her father better than that, didn't she? Even if they had put off the wedding, there wouldn't be any difference, and as much as it hurt that he had chosen not to be there in this, how could she blame him when she saw in his eyes, his worries, his concerns? Those things would go away in time. Kurt would slowly prove himself to be the man she knew he was. Her father would see, and even if he never really came to like Kurt, maybe, in some small way, he'd come to respect him . . .

 

And in a perfect world, everything would be wonderful. Samantha knew better than that, didn't she? It wasn't a perfect world; not even close, and she knew that she couldn't force her father to do anything that he wasn't willing to do.

 

The question had arisen early on in the planning. Gin had suggested that Samantha have a Shinto ceremony, partially so that Kichiro wouldn't have to `give her away', as it were, but Samantha . . . She remembered how beautiful Isabelle's wedding had been. That was what she'd wanted, and even if Kichiro refused to attend, she'd deal with that, too. Cain and InuYasha, her grandfathers, had agreed to escort her down the aisle in Kichiro's absence, and that had to be enough, didn't it?

 

`Don't dwell on that, Samantha. You promised that you wouldn't,' her youkai reminded her.

 

`I know . . .'

 

`It's your big day, you know, and even if your father's not here, you know that it isn't because he doesn't love you.'

 

`I know.'

 

`Now smile, Samantha. Instead of thinking about the things you can't change, concentrate instead on the idea that you're getting married, okay? You love him, and he loves you, and this is the final step, you know.'

 

`The final step . . .' she smiled just a little. `Samantha Drevin . . .'

 

`That's right . . .'

 

“Earth to Samantha . . . Oh, look, she's dreaming about her wedding night,” Isabelle teased loudly.

 

“Come on, Sami. Let's get you ready. The band is already getting tuned up . . .” Alexandra commented with a smile.

 

Samantha smiled and nodded, carefully settling down on the padded bench as her sisters shook out the wedding veil to place on her head . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Kurt frowned at his reflection, wondering for the fiftieth time in the last hour alone, exactly how they'd convinced him that wearing a tuxedo was a good idea . . .

 

He'd never felt quite so out of place, not really, especially after seeing most of the men in their tuxedos that seemed to have all be tailored to fit. Gunnar and his father, Toga in Armani, Bas in Astorian, even Cain in what looked like a genuine vintage Versace—Kurt didn't know that, but Gavin, also wearing Astorian, had remarked upon it with a blush, citing that he'd spent far too much time around his wife, Jillian, not to know something about fashion . .

 

The only one who looked even remotely goofier than Kurt, in his opinion, was Evan, and he was goofy by choice, wearing the most ungodly white ruffled shirt with bright pink embroidery on the ruffles under his black tuxedo . . . Cain had taken one look at his youngest son and slowly shook his head, but he'd let it go, probably thinking that the argument just wasn't worth the effort . . .

 

He drew a deep breath and glanced at the clock again. Half an hour till, as Evan called it, `show time' . . .

 

`Ugh, I think I'm going to puke . . .'

 

Damn those jackasses. He should have known better than to go out drinking with a bunch of damn youkai. Of course they weren't suffering any ill-effects from the overindulgence. Kurt, himself, had opened his eyes, only to wish that he could scoop his brains out with a spoon since his head felt as though it were about to explode . . .

 

A soft knock sounded on the door, and Kurt grimaced. “It's open,” he called, straightening the bow tie that Evan had fixed for him. Of course, he'd handed Kurt a clip-on tie, to start with, the little bastard . . .

 

Gin poked her head into the room and smiled. “You look so nice,” she commented as she slipped into the room. “I came to see if you needed any help . . .”

 

“Uh, no, I'm fine,” he said, managing a rather weak smile. “Just, um, nerves, I guess . . .”

 

She hurried over and tugged at the tie to straighten it for him. “There.”

 

He sighed. “How's Samantha?”

 

Gin's friendly smile faltered slightly, and she forced a little shrug. “She's fine; just fine . . .”

 

Kurt frowned. “You don't sound like she's `fine' . . .”

 

Gin winced. “It's nothing,” she insisted, her brightest smile back in place.

 

“No . . . what?”

 

She sighed and bit her lip, stepping back and wringing her hands. “Kurt, I wondered . . .”

 

He shook his head. “What?”

 

She didn't look like she wanted to say whatever she was thinking, but she nodded. “I thought maybe . . . Have you tried to . . . to talk to Kichiro? About Samantha, I mean . . .”

 

Kurt shook his head again, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “No, I haven't,” he confessed. “I thought . . . I thought that maybe it was better to let him approach me . . .”

 

“But that's the thing,” she hurried on to say. “Kichiro . . . he won't . . . and because he won't . . .”

 

The knot tying up Kurt's innards tightened just a little. “He won't what?” he prompted when she trailed off.

 

Gin wrung her hands a little faster and offered a nervous sort of shrug. “He . . . he won't come to the wedding . . . I mean, we can all understand why he doesn't want to give Samantha away, you know? But to miss her wedding completely . . . and Samantha doesn't say so, but I know it's hurting her . . .”

 

Kurt stopped short, his head snapping up as unaccountable outrage surged through him. No one had told him that Kichiro was refusing to attend the wedding, had they? No one had mentioned that at all . . . “What?”

 

Gin heaved a sigh, her shoulders dropping just a little as she shook her head and grimaced. “I mean, there's still time, you know? And maybe . . . maybe if you talked to him . . .?”

 

Kurt stared at the woman for a long moment, a million thoughts about Samantha, about her smile, about the way that she never asked him for anything shot through his head. “Where is he?” he asked as he headed for the door.

 

Gin let out a deep breath. “I think he's in his room,” she admitted. “Kurt . . .”

 

“I know,” he tossed over his shoulder as he yanked open the door. “Maybe I should have talked to him sooner . . .”

 

And it was the longest walk of his life, wasn't it? Down the hallway and the stairs that led to the second level of the mansion . . . Along the corridor to the room on the end, and as he squared his shoulders and raised his hand to knock, he drew a deep breath, only to blink when the door opened of its own accord before he could tap on it.

 

Kichiro sat in a chair near the balcony, staring out at the yard below where the wedding would take place, and while he had to sense Kurt's presence, he said nothing at all.

 

Kurt cleared his throat and stepped into the room. “Gin tells me that you . . . that you won't attend the wedding,” Kurt began in what he hoped was a neutral tone of voice.

 

Kichiro didn't respond.

 

“I wish you'd change your mind. Samantha . . . It'd mean the world to her . . .”

 

“You will presume to tell me about my daughter?” Kichiro countered quietly. He stood up but didn't turn around, shoving his hands into his pockets as he continued to stare out the window.

 

“That's not what I was trying to do,” Kurt replied. “It's just . . . I . . . I never want her to regret anything; not ever . . .”

 

“And you think that she won't regret marrying you?” Kichiro demanded. “That's what you're saying.”

 

Kurt winced. “I'm going to do my best to make sure she never regrets it, no,” he allowed. “I . . . I love your daughter.”

 

Kichiro finally looked at him, slowly turning to face him. His countenance was a mask of unbridled rage, but there was something else there, too, wasn't there? Something a little harder to discern, lying just below the anger . . . He was frightened, wasn't he? Frightened for the daughter that he adored, and that was something that Kurt could completely understand. . . “If I didn't think you loved her,” he said slowly, evenly, carefully, “you'd be dead already.”

 

Kurt sighed. “I wish to God I'd never caught her . . . That doesn't make it better, but . . .” He shook his head, trying to find the words to say, to make Kichiro understand exactly how much he wished he could change the past.

 

Kichiro snorted and looked away, as though the very sight of Kurt was enough to fuel his rage, and it probably was. “Why did you change your mind, taijya?” Kichiro sneered angrily. “Why did you finally let her go after three months—three months . . .?”

 

Kurt licked his lips, forced himself to look Kichiro in the eye. “I decided after the first couple months to get her out of there, but I . . . I told myself that . . . that I needed to plan, to make sure that they couldn't come after her. Now I know, though . . . I . . . I couldn't stand the idea that I'd never see her again . . .”

 

“So you kept her there for another month? You kept her there in that hellhole?”

 

Kurt nodded once. “. . . Yeah.”

 

“You bastard. You little punk-assed bastard . . .” Kichiro growled, balling up his fists so tightly that the tendons in his arms stood out.

 

“I didn't want to think that she . . . that she was any different,” he murmured, shaking his head, unsure why he kept talking when he was only making it that much worse. “But she told me . . . she told me . . . about your birthday, and I knew . . . She had a father and a mother—family who missed her . . .”

 

Kichiro snorted then sighed, turning back toward the window once more. “Family,” he muttered under his breath.

 

Kurt pressed his lips together and turned to leave. He'd wanted to make it better, hadn't he? But somehow, he'd . . . he'd made it that much worse . . . “I don't know how you did it,” he said, pausing with his hand on the door handle. “She's a beautiful woman—I mean on the inside . . . She taught me about the kind of person I . . . I want to be,” he admitted quietly. “I don't know what it's worth, but . . . but I'm sorry—sorrier than you'll ever know, and . . . and I'm asking you to . . . to please reconsider . . . for Samantha . . .”

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hi, Sami. Sorry I couldn't make it.”

 

She smiled and gripped the cell phone as her sisters fussed with the veil. “That's okay, Mikio. Uncle said you had some stuff that you couldn't put off.”

 

“That's what they said,” Mikio remarked with a sigh. “Make sure you get pictures, okay?”

 

“Of course,” she assured him with a smile. “Morio's filming it, too, so I'll send you a copy.”

 

“Good,” he agreed. “So have you taught him to see the stars yet?”

 

She laughed, remembering the conversation she'd had with Mikio about Kurt before he'd arrived there. “I'm working on it.”

 

“Okay. I'd better let you go. Bet you're the prettiest bride, ever,” he said.

 

Samantha laughed and brushed away an annoying tear that slipped down her cheek as she closed the phone with a happy sigh. Sure, she wished that Mikio could make it, but she knew well enough that the flight was entirely hard on him, especially when he'd just gone home awhile back. She also knew that there was nothing so pressing that he couldn't have made it, but Sesshoumaru knew, too, how difficult the traveling was on his body, so he had found other reasons for Mikio to bow out gracefully, and that was all right, she supposed.

 

“You look perfect,” Alexandra stated, taking a step back to critique her work. “What do you think, Mama?”

 

Bellaniece laughed and snapped a quick picture. “I think that you'd better not be getting married, at least for awhile, Lexi,” she said.

 

Alexandra wrinkled her nose and waved a hand dismissively. “I'm too busy to get married right now,” she hedged then shrugged. “Maybe in a few years . . .”

 

Isabelle laughed and gave Samantha a quick hug. “I'm going to go sit down. It's just about time. You look fantastic, sweetie.”

 

Bellaniece gave her a hug, too, and smiled. “Just remember that, married or not, you're still my little girl.”

 

Samantha nodded and kissed her cheek. “I know, Mama.”

 

Alexandra let out a deep breath and shot her a shaky smile. “As long as you're happy, Sami,” she said.

 

“I am . . . and I will be,” she replied. “Lexi . . .”

 

Alexandra stopped. She had been following Bellaniece from the room. “Yes?”

 

“About the phone call the other day . . .”

 

Alexandra waved a hand in dismissal. “No, you were right. I don't know if I'll ever really like him, but he is your choice. Besides, you'll keep him in line, I have no doubt.”

 

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

 

Alexandra laughed and gave her hands a quick squeeze. “Oh, right. Here,” she said, digging a fine white kerchief out of her purse. Edged in delicate white lace, it was an old piece that used to belong to Kagome's mother years ago. “Something old and something borrowed,” she said with a smile. “I'll send Grandpa up to get you . . . Come on, Tanny!” she called, holding out her hand.

 

Tanny giggled and darted over to Alexandra's side, and Samantha laughed as the two left the room.

 

It was almost time, wasn't it? In less than an hour, she'd be Kurt's wife . . .

 

That thought was enough to make her smile again, though the expression was tempered just the slightest bit. Biting her lip as she scolded herself for thinking about the negatives again, she moved toward the window, her skirts whispering as she walked.

 

Everyone was taking their seats. There weren't a lot of guests—Samantha hadn't wanted a big wedding—but most of the people who were important to her were there, and that had to be enough. She watched as Isabelle, escorted by Griffin, slipped into chairs near the front, and she smiled to herself when she realized that they were sitting on Kurt's side. The band that they'd hired was tuning their instruments—a string quartet that Samantha had favored . . .

 

Closing her eyes, she breathed deep, drawing in a cleansing lungful of the crisp wind blowing off the ocean. The forecast had called for rain, but there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Maybe Kurt had put up some kind of barrier, she thought with a whimsical smile. That was silly, of course. He hadn't done any such thing. Still, it was a nice idea, wasn't it?

 

A soft tap on the door drew her attention, and Samantha was just turning around when Cain opened it. “Look at you,” he remarked quietly with a shake of his head though his smile widened just a little. “It's about that time.”

 

She giggled and reached for the bouquet of pink silk roses and violets. “How do I look?”

 

That smile faltered slightly as Cain's gaze brightened. “As pretty as your mama on her wedding day,” he replied.

 

She hurried over and pushed herself up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Grandpa.”

 

Cain smiled at her and escorted her from the room and down the hallway toward the stairs.

 

“You know, I could do this, myself, without InuYasha's help,” he teased as she gathered her skirts carefully to keep from stepping on them as she descended the steps.

 

“As if I could choose between the two of you,” she chided.

 

“Pfft . . .”

 

“Shut up, Zelig. Be glad you're a part of this family, at all,” InuYasha grumbled, having overheard the end of that conversation as he'd stepped up to meet them at the bottom of the stairs. Samantha took a moment to kiss his cheek, too, before slipping her other arm under InuYasha's outstretched elbow.

 

“Don't trip, old man,” Cain muttered under his breath as they made their way toward the double doors in the living room that led to the back yard where the wedding was to be held. Far ahead, she watched as Kurt strode slowly down the white linen runner that had been rolled out for the wedding, and she smiled. He didn't look particularly nervous, so that was a good sign . . .

 

Evan grinned like a fool and offered Sydnie his elbow. “I knew I'd get to walk you down the aisle someday,” he quipped.

 

Sydnie giggled and kissed Evan's cheek, then spared a moment to wipe away the remnants of lipstick she'd left behind.

 

“Aw, damn! I finally scored a kiss, and no Bubby around to see it!” he complained.

 

“More tanny!” the child piped up in a plaintive sort of voice as she held out the little white basket that had been full of candied rose petals.

 

Samantha's mouth fell open as a laugh surged up inside her. Gin giggled and grasped the girl's hand. “Come on, sweetie, but remember, you can't eat them! You have to drop them on that white runner while you're walking, okay?”

 

“Good thing you ordered extra,” Cain remarked, frowning slightly as Bellaniece, escorted by Morio, walked down the runner to take her seat. He didn't say anything out loud, but he didn't have to. It bothered him a lot that Kichiro refused to attend the wedding, didn't it?

 

Gin handed the basket back, whispering in Tanny's ear before she let go. Then Kagome took Gin's hand and dragged her out of the house, too, following Bellaniece and Morio down the aisle to take their seats, too.

 

“Go on, kitten,” Sydnie whispered to Tanny, giving the girl a slight little shove. Tanny smiled broadly—her lips tinged with a deepened shade of pink from the rose petals, and to everyone's relief, she actually tossed a few rose petals on the carpet between bites, anyway.

 

Sydnie turned to wink at Samantha before following along behind Tanny, and Samantha glanced up at her grandfathers, a trembling smile gracing her lips.

 

“You ready to go?” InuYasha asked, shooting Samantha a quick glance.

 

“Yeah,” she said, drawing a deep breath. “Y-yeah . . .”

 

“Step back, old man . . . Zelig.”

 

Samantha froze, unable to believe the sound of that particular voice. She turned slowly—very slowly—lifting her gaze to meet her father's.

 

Dressed immaculately in the tuxedo that Bellaniece had ordered for him, he stood in the doorway with a little smile on his face as he stared at Samantha. “Papa . . .”

 

He blushed just a little, his gaze falling to the floor, but he shrugged and cleared his throat as he started to walk toward her. “Sorry I'm late, dollbaby,” he said as Cain stepped back.

 

“You're not late, Papa,” she whispered, leaning up to kiss him. “You've never been too late for me.”

 

 

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Final Thought from Samantha:

…Papa …

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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~