InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Reboot ( Chapter 28 )

"Damn."

Kyouhei sat back, nodding slowly as he waited for Ben to fully wrap his head around the information he'd just dropped on him.

It didn't take long.  "It's starting already," he muttered, scowling off to the side, his gaze coming to rest on Charity as the woman dug in the sandy dirt near the patio, half-hidden under the wide brim of the sun hat she'd bought a few days ago during one of the trips she'd talked Ben into.  She'd wanted to buy some plants to help stop the area around the patio from eroding.  The twins were near her in the shade of a festive yellow umbrella, confined in the safety of the travel play pen she'd set up so they could watch her.

"That's the gist of it," Kyouhei replied.  "InuYasha-sama and his mate flew back yesterday, so whether Sesshoumaru-sama can control his brother is anyone's guess.  I almost think that Tetsuo would be even more pleased to see him walk right into their trap instead of Ryomaru."

"And chichiue?  Have you heard from him?"

"Aside from asking when I plan on coming home, he hasn't had anything new to say," Kyouhei admitted.

Ben's gaze narrowed, and he slowly shook his head.  "Chichiue . . . He doesn't know you're here, does he?"

Kyouhei snapped his mouth closed on whatever he was going to say, shifting slightly in his chair as he leaned his head to the side and grimaced.  "He knows I'm in New York City . . ." he hedged.

Ben's frown deepened.  There was something strange about Kyouhei's demeanor.  If he were talking to him in person, he could probably get a better handle on it, but it was far more difficult to tell over the confines of the video feed.  "Why do I feel like there's a 'but' in there somewhere?" he asked instead.

Kyouhei managed a wan smile—an expression that touched his lips and went no further.  "Toga-sama has asked that I return home, too," he said, his gaze darkening with a foreboding so thick that Ben could see it.  "He . . . He wants me to join otou-san's faction."

"He wants you to spy for them."

Kyouhei nodded once.  

"What'll you do?"

Shaking his head slowly, his gaze shifting away from the camera of his laptop, Kyouhei let out a deep breath.  "In truth?  I don't know," he admitted.  "I know what they're doing is wrong, and I know that they cannot be allowed to gain strength . . . If they were to come to power, it could prove . . . catastrophic in many ways . . ." He sighed and grimaced.  "They want to return glory to the youkai—to stop hiding what we are, and in doing so . . ."

Ben nodded.  "In doing so, the humans will have to be subjugated."

Kyouhei grimaced.  " . . . Or annihilated—except for those who would swear to serve us, that is . . . ."

"That's madness," Ben murmured.  "Does he fully comprehend the absolute scope of something this . . . this . . .?"

"I don't know what he does or doesn't realize, honestly," Kyouhei admitted quietly, his gaze darkening as his own inner turmoil boiled high.  "I understand that what he's plotting is wrong—dead wrong.  I understand, but . . ."

"But he's your father," Ben finished for him, appreciating a little too well, just what was going through Kyouhei's mind.

"Yours, too," Kyouhei reminded him.

Ben shook his head, digging his hand into his hair, resting his elbow on the back of the sofa.  "I settled everything with him a long time ago," he said.  "We walked away from each other, and I don't think that he's ever looked back.  I know I haven't."

"Because you chose to follow Zelig-sama's father."

He couldn’t contain the trace of bitterness that tinged his voice when he spoke.  "Because he couldn’t control me, and that's never, ever sat well with him.  His affection has always come at a price: unquestioned loyalty to him and him alone . . . But you already knew that, didn't you?"

The younger man didn’t confirm or deny Ben’s question, but then, he didn’t really have to.  Even if he didn’t know, exactly how Kyouhei was raised, Ben had the feeling that it wasn’t that much different than Ben had experienced himself.  "It would be simpler if I could agree with what he's doing, what he's hoping to accomplish," Kyouhei said.  "He's wrong.  I know he's wrong.  I've told him that he's wrong, and still . . ."

Ben sighed, shook his head slowly, almost methodically.  "What you do from here is entirely up to you," he said, taking his time, measuring his words, painfully aware of the familial bond that simply didn't exist between himself and his younger brother—at least, not in the sense that should matter or that would make it easier for Ben to proffer advice in any kind of real older brother capacity.  That was the reason, after all, why Kyouhei had never actually addressed Ben in such a way, either.  The only times he'd attached 'nii-san' to his words were during moments of sarcasm or even veiled hostility—at least, until recently.  Despite all that, he still couldn’t help but to feel obligated to look out for Kyouhei, in whatever capacity that Kyouhei would allow.  Perhaps he wasn’t a kit any longer, but something about the younger man . . . If circumstances had been different, if they had been raised in a family that wasn’t as broken and disjointed as was theirs . . . Yes, Ben would have absolutely done anything he could to protect Kyouhei, even if that had meant going against the very people who had given him life . . .

"If it's too difficult, you can always back away: let things happen and just observe.  Or you can bend to chichiue's demands and ignore what you feel in your heart is right . . . Or you can do what you can to stop this madness before it escalates into something far worse.  To be honest, I can understand all three of those options, and if I were you, I'm not entirely certain which way I'd go . . . But no matter what choice you make, just . . . make sure it's one you can live with, because the future is a very long time, and regrets are a hard thing to ever truly reconcile."

Kyouhei considered Ben's words, his expression giving nothing away.  Somewhere along the line, he'd gotten damn good at hiding those emotions that might give someone else the upper hand.  It was the same sort of ability that Sesshoumaru possessed in spades.  The only thing left for him was to learn how to blank his gaze.  Just now, however, his face was turned to the side, staring out the windows, Ben supposed.  Finally, though, Kyouhei drew a deep breath and shifted his eyes back to the camera again.  "There is one more consideration that I haven't told you about yet," he admitted quietly, a strange sense of dread underlying his words.  "If everything were nothing more than a game of right and wrong, the choice would be easy, but it's not, and . . ." Trailing off, Kyouhei grimaced, and in that moment, he could have been as old as the sea, the earth, the wind, the very universe itself.  "It's . . . It's the real reason why I came to find you."

"All right," Ben said, trying to make sense of the undertone and failing miserably.

Kyouhei sighed, shook his head, as though he was having trouble, trying to figure out exactly what to say.  "I was going to go to Sesshoumaru," he said, gaze darkening to a more turbulent shade of grayish-blue—of steel or sleet or granite.  "Otou-san . . . You know as well as I, he will never, ever listen to reason.  He's spent centuries, nursing this animosity, this feeling that he's been so callously betrayed that it's become second nature to him.  He's filled with such hatred, such bitterness now, and . . ."  He grimaced, closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.  "I don't know if he realized that it was my intention to stop him, and so he sought to thwart me in the only way that he thought he could or . . ." Trailing off, he uttered a humorless laugh, an incredulous sound.  "There's nothing altruistic in what he's done—no love, no honor—nothing but a base desire to protect himself in whatever way he can."

Ben scowled at Kyouhei.  "What has he done?"

Kyouhei shrugged.  "Okaa-san . . . She's pregnant."

Hecht Unker slipped into the run-down house just as the sun was rising, narrowing his eyes at the filmy darkness that blanketed everything but never really faded out entirely.  Pressing his fingers against the panel beside the door to reset the alarm, he dropped the duffle bag on the floor and kicked it out of the way.  Off in the distance toward the back of the house, he could hear sounds coming from the kitchen, could smell the bitter tinge of coffee, the oily scent of bacon.  Grimacing as his stomach reminded him that he hadn't had a decent meal in days, he strode through the living room and into the hallway, the heels of his boots cracking like thunder against the old and creaky hardwood floor.

"Your daddy's sleeping.  Leave him be," Brenda Unker said when he stepped into the kitchen.  "You find those babies?"

"No, but I know where they are," he said then shrugged.  "Kind of, anyway."

Casting her son a no-nonsense glare, she impatiently pushed back a dirty strand of dull orangey-yellow hair that had escaped the careless ponytail that hung down her back.  "Kind of?" she repeated derisively as she turned the bacon in the pan.  "How do you, 'kind of' know where they are, boy?  Either you do or you don't."

Hecht grunted, dumping coffee into a dingy old mug.  "I overheard them talking," he replied.  "They said someone named Ben had them, that he'd taken them to his place in Mexico."

"Mexico?" she hissed, her bony elbows jutting out to her sides as she angrily shook the frying pan.  "Damn!  And how are we supposed to pay to get them back here from that far away, I'd like to know!"  She sighed suddenly, letting go of the pan, only to grip onto the counter on either side of the stove, shoulders rising as she slumped forward, dropping her head as she slowly shook it from side to side.  "Guess the askin' price just went up . . ."

Hecht drained half of the coffee in his mug, ignoring the scalding burn, as he took the few steps that separated him from his mother to reach around her to nab a piece of bacon from the platter she'd already been filling.  "Asking price of what?" he garbled around a mouthful of bacon.

His mother shot him a droll sort of look before resuming her task again. "Them babies, of course!"

He stopped mid-chew as a frown surfaced on his face.  "Thought you wanted them back so you could raise 'em," he said.

She snorted.  "Can't afford to feed the slobs I've got here now, not between you and your old man," she scoffed.  "Found a woman who wants 'em and is willing to pay a small fortune.  All we gotta do is bring them babies here, and it's a done deal."  She laughed suddenly, gray eyes shining, making her appear much, much younger than she usually looked.  "Call it an inheritance from your damn uncle."

Narrowing his eyes as he shoved another piece of bacon into his mouth, Hecht frowned.  It was one thing, wasn't it, to look for the twins when he thought that his parents wanted to do right by them, but . . .

'But . . .'

Brenda hurried over to the doorway that led to the back of the house.  "Jeet!  Jeet!  Get your old ass out of that bed and get out here!  Your boy's home, and he's got news!"

Hecht straightened up, hearing his father long before he saw him: the creaking old house quaking as Jeet Unker's feet smacked down against the aged and cracked tile floor.  Setting the empty coffee cup aside as he crossed his arms over his chest and waited, Hecht didn't try to hide the scowl on his face as his father finally lumbered into view.  "Where are them babies?" he demanded without preamble, his gaze shifting over the kitchen as though he expected the twins to be present and accounted for.

"Mexico," Hecht replied.

"Mexico?  Fucking Zelig sent them to Mexico?"

"Someone named Ben," Brenda added.  "Any idea who that might be?"

"Damnation!" Jeet thundered, glaring at his son in an entirely accusatory kind of way.  "Ben, y' say?  Hell, there could be a thousand Bens . . . Well, what are you waiting on, boy?  Go out there and find 'em!  We need those babies!"

"Why?" Hecht asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the counter.  "I mean, if all you're gonna do is give 'em to someone else, then why not just leave 'em where they are?"

Flashing across the floor in a blur of motion, Jeet grabbed Hecht by the front of his shirt, dragging him forward until their faces were separated by mere breaths.  "Are you arguing with me?"

Hecht didn't back down, shoving against Jeet's chest hard enough to make him stumble back.  Jeet didn't let go of Hecht, though, as his arm shot out, his fist balled up, connecting with Hecht's jaw, sending the younger man spinning back, crashing hard against the counter.

"Get outta here, boy," Jeet growled, shaking his hand like it was in pain.  "Get your ass down to Mexico, and find those babies, do you hear?  And don't you fucking dare show your damn face around here again without 'em or I'll kill you m'self!"

Straightening his back slowly as he held onto his chin and worked it back and forth, Hecht glared at his father.  "Yeah, fine," he muttered, yanking his arm away when Brenda tried to catch him, to make him stay.

Heading down the hallway toward the front door, Hecht spit out a mouthful of blood onto the rickety old floor, but didn't stop moving.

'Find those babies?' he thought with an inward snort as he squelched the rage that frothed, thick and ugly, deep down.  'All right . . . Sure . . .'

"What are you thinking about, Benjiro?"

Pulling Manami closer against his side, their bare flesh, still damp from the fine sheen of sweat that they'd worked up, and Ben frowned in the dimmed half-light inside the small hut that she used to share with her sister.  Setsuna, however, tended to prefer life inside the castle, and she rarely ventured out here any longer.  "Keijizen . . . He's been asked to become tai-youkai of the New World."

"Oh," she said, leaning up on her elbow, tracing the outline of his lips with a delicately tapered claw.  "And you will miss him."

Turning his face far enough to stare out the small window at the falling night, Ben couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze, stubbornly tried to hold onto the peaceful sense of absolute lethargy that coursed through him as he ran a hand along the curves of her side, her hip.  She shivered despite the pervasive mugginess that lingered in the air, even with the approaching darkness, and her scent shifted, attesting to the fact that she wasn't cold in the least.  "I . . . won't miss him, actually," Ben said.

She stiffened against him for a moment before relaxing against him once more, her fingertips trailing down over his chest, over his stomach, maddeningly close, but not quite close enough . . . "You're going with him," she said simply: a foregone conclusion that didn't seem to surprise her, either.

"I'm . . . I'm going with him," Ben agreed.

Dark eyes that shone nearly black in the twilight, burning with an intensity that he knew well enough, she stared at him for a long moment, her aura touched by an unvoiced sorrow.  "When will you go?" she asked quietly.

Ben had to clear his throat before he managed to answer.  "Tomorrow," he said.  "Sesshoumaru-sama arranged for us to gain passage upon a ship bound for the mainland in the morning."

"And your parents?  Surely you spoke with them?"

He made a face at the mere mention of his parents.  Considering they were the last people he wanted to talk about, he sighed, dragging his free hand over his face in a weary sort of way.  "I . . . I no longer have a father . . . or a mother," he heard himself saying, his voice oddly detached from the situation at hand.  "That is what they said."

"Because you'd follow Keiji-kun?  Hidekea-sama, perhaps, but Yukina-sama . . .?  She's your mother!  She wouldn't—"

"You know better than anyone that she will go along with whatever he dictates, Nami," he growled, then sighed, willing his rising ire to stop.  After all, it wasn't Manami's fault, not in the least . . . "Chichiue . . . He said if I choose to follow Keiji that I am a fool, and he . . . Well, he will not suffer a fool in his household."  Closing his eyes, drawing a deep breath as he willed away the residual anger, he held to the emotion for a brief moment longer . . . And then, he let it go and opened his eyes, scowling at Manami, the burn in his gaze redirecting with a lightning-fast intensity as he deliberately tightened his grip, yanking her hard against him.  "Distract me, can't you?"

The absolutely coquettish way she ducked her head, lifted her gaze to peer up through the tangle of her eyelashes at him . . . The smolder that ignited behind the velvet blue of her gaze . . .

Catching her chin with a crooked index finger, Ben tilted her face up, kissed her softly, gently, as she rolled on top of him, using her entire body, creating a stroke and rhythm that made him groan.  The sound, captured in her mouth, reverberated through him, culminated in an ache so deep, so intense . . . "Come with me . . ." he murmured as she scooted down, trailing scorching kisses along his jaw, down his throat.  "Nami . . . You and I . . ."

She didn't answer him, her actions gaining a clarity, an almost calculated cunning.  Her hand slipped lower, lower, wrapping around the thickness of him as he rasped out a roughened growl, as coherent thought shifted into a primal urging . . .

"What are you thinking about, Ben?"

Blinking quickly as the last lingering wisps of memory evaporated before his face as easily as a morning fog, Ben glanced over, only to find Charity, leaning in the doorway.  She'd spoken those same words, hadn't she?  The same ones he'd heard in the recesses of his dreams, spoken by a different woman at a different time, and yet . . .

She pushed away from the doorway when he met her gaze, arms still crossed over her chest as she ambled toward him, as she sat down on the sofa beside him.  "You looked about a million miles away," she said simply.  "Want to talk about it?"

He sighed, slumping forward, elbows on knees, as he held out his hands in a completely helpless sort of way.  Uttering a terse laugh that was as dry and brittle as the winter winds back home, he cut himself off abruptly as Charity slipped her hand into his.  "Ch . . . Cherry . . ." he muttered, casting her a sidelong glance.  "That's what your youkai calls you, right?"

She smiled.  "A couple of my cousins do, too—occasionally, Mamoruzen does, as well."

He chuckled, relieved to find that it sounded much closer to what it ought to be.  "It's cute," he said, still unable to get past the rasping harshness that lingered in his voice.

She sighed, but made a face.  "Yup, that's me," she said, her tone a little too bright, a little too happy.  "Cute little Charity . . . I guess some things never change."

"You don't like being cute?"

She shook her head.  "Oh, I don't mind it," she said with a shrug.  "Just once, though, I'd like to be something else: cool and aloof like Coral or reliable and nurturing like Cass . . . or even just plain crazy and sexy like Chelsea . . ."

"For the record, cool and aloof is overrated," Ben told her.  "As for those other things . . . I think you're all those things, too."

She didn't look like she believed him, but Ben figured that was all right.  He had a long time to show her otherwise, didn't he?  He sighed as he shifted his gaze away once more.  That was, if he could do something to clear the path ahead first . . .

She sighed, biting her bottom lip in a decidedly nervous sort of fashion.  "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head as she gave his hand an encouraging squeeze.  "Talking about myself when you obviously have something on your mind . . .Tell me what it is?"

Ben frowned.  Just what did he dare tell her?  Wanting to protect her about the Unkers was one thing since nothing had really solidified as yet, but the threat against her grandfather?  That was something entirely different.  That threat . . .

"There's a movement growing back in the Old Country," he admitted.  "They, uh . . . They want to see your grandfather removed as Inu no Taisho."

She went still for a moment.  Then she snorted.  "That'll never happen," she replied, the strength of conviction backing her words—her unerring belief in Sesshoumaru's power.  "Youkai talk about such a thing a lot—I know this—but I know, too, that there isn't a being on earth who comes close to ojii-san, in terms of power."

"These ones are cunning," he went on, not wanting to frighten her, yet unable to allow her to think that it was just some fly-by-night rumor, either.  "I don't know why, but I . . . I can feel it coming.  There's going to be a war.  I just don't know what kind of scope it will have."

"You're really worried about this," she said, frowning at him in that slow, calm way of hers.  "No matter how hard they try, though, the house of the Inu no Taisho will not fall."

"I hope you're right," he allowed with a sigh.

"I know I'm right.  I'm not just saying this blindly or because he's my grandfather.  I know the strength he possesses.  He might mask his true power, might not be given to blatant displays of what he's truly capable of, but I've seen it . . . I've sensed it."

He nodded slowly, but didn't answer, frowning thoughtfully at their clasped hands instead.

Biting her lip as she stared at him, she reached over, took his other hand in hers, as well.  "What are you not telling me?"

Ben sighed, unconsciously tightening his grip on Charity's hands.  Was he trying to keep her from running?  Or was he simply needing something to hold onto himself . . .?  Either way, he didn't know.  The one thing that was certain to him was Charity, and as long as she didn't let go, he wouldn’t, either.   "One of the dissidents in charge . . . He's the man I used to call 'father'."