InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Creeping Dark ( Chapter 32 )

"So . . . after we buy all this stuff, exactly what are we going to do with it?  Just leave it here or ship it all back?  I mean, it'll cost a small fortune to do that, which isn't a problem, but I don't come down here that often . . ."

Charity adjusted the brim of Nadia's little white bonnet and giggled as they wandered through the open-air market near the small shopping plaza where they'd decided to go shopping.  "It's their first Christmas, Benjamin.  They need to be spoiled."

Emmeline heaved a sigh around the bottle nipple in her mouth before continuing her dinner.  "Cherry, do you remember your first Christmas?  Because I don't."

She snorted, replacing Nadia's bottle with a bright pink pacifier.  "You're originally Japanese.  You didn't celebrate Christmas."

"And you're Japanese, too, so tell me: why are we going to all the trouble of buying a bunch of presents that they're not going to remember and shouldn't, by rights, be getting, in the first place?"

"Because my mama is American, so we always celebrated Christmas—and are you really this big of a Grinch?  Besides, you're the top North American general, so Christmas is your holiday."

Ben grinned.  "We could just get gift cards for them to spend once we get back to the States—and once they're old enough to appreciate getting to pick out exactly what they want."

She heaved a sigh, stuffing the bottle back into the stroller that they were using to haul the diaper bag since the babies preferred the sling carriers.  "Speaking of money, I got the paperwork to sign for their trust funds," she said.  "I went ahead and had Valerie set it up in both our names so that it's no trouble for you to add funds to them if you want."

Ben stopped long enough to stow Emmeline's now-empty bottle.  "Did you put stipulations on them?"

Shrugging as she dug Emmeline's purple pacifier box out of her pocket, she shook her head.  "Not really.  My parents taught us to be financially responsible from early on, so, by the time I was old enough to cash out the trust fund if I had wanted, it never was an issue.  I mean, why do that when it's making more money for me, long term, the way it is?  Even then, none of my siblings have ever touched theirs, either, as far as I know.  We just save or spend the interest checks.  I usually just save mine . . ."

Ben took Emmeline's pacifier and shoved it onto his finger like a really gaudy ring.  Emmeline wasn't nearly as fond of her pacifier as Nadia was, but she did want it from time to time.  She also tended to forget about it fairly quickly, so Ben had opted to keep hold of it the only way he could think of to prevent the isolated, but really ugly, meltdown.

"So," Charity said, stealing a sidelong glance at him.  He could feel her gaze as acutely as he'd ever felt anything before in his life.  He was ridiculously in tune with her, and as much as he loved it, there was a small part of him that couldn't help but to feel just a little afraid, too.  "How's Kyouhei-san?"

Letting out a deep breath as he forced a smile for her, he shrugged in what he hoped was an offhanded sort of way.  "Everything's fine, he said . . . It was nothing more than a status update, really."

She nodded slowly, carefully, leaning toward him just a little when a group of teenage boys wandered past.  Talking and laughing and generally goofing off, they paid no attention to their surroundings, most especially to a couple with two babies.  Ben reached out and steadied her with a gentle arm around her shoulders, but, where Ben couldn't help the brush of irritation at the boys' perceived lack of manners, Charity only smiled.  "I miss those days," she admitted as he let his arm drop away.  Her gaze took on a longing kind of expression as she heaved a sigh that only Ben could hear.  "Hanging out with friends, not having to worry about anything at all . . ."

"Yes, well, there's something to be said for having manners," he grumbled.

"It's fine," she assured him, laying a hand on his arm.  "But if Kyouhei-san was just calling to give you a status update, then tell me why you were so quiet last night?"

"Was I?" he hedged, wishing in a vague sort of way that Charity wasn't as observant as she always was.

She nodded.  "You were."

He gave up trying to keep it from her.  What was the point, when she already knew most of it, anyway?  "He said that a few youkai have arrived for a summit of sorts—Tetsuo, of course, and a handful of others known to be in the upper ranks of the faction.  Said he'd brief me afterward, but . . . But he said that it didn't sound good."  Heaving a sigh, he shook his head, scowling off in the distance.  "I should tell him to get away from there, to just get out . . ."

"Why don't you?"

"He . . . He can't."

"Why not?"

Ben shot her a dark glance.  "Because hahaue's pregnant, and he . . ." Shaking his head, tossing a hand up in the air, Ben sighed again. "He's trying to diffuse the situation before it reaches the point of no-return—for the cub's sake."

"Kami," Charity breathed, wincing as she bit her lip, as she glanced up at Ben and frowned.  "But that's . . . Why?"

"Who knows?  Maybe she thinks that if it came down to it, they would let chichiue off since any act against him would ultimately affect her, too.  I really don't know, to tell the truth. Or maybe . . ."

“Maybe, what?” Charity pressed, frowning at him, as though she sensed the darkness of his own suspicions—suspicions that he hated to give voice to . . .

Ben sighed, carefully leading Charity through the milling crowd.  “I can’t help but wonder: would they realize that, knowing there’s a baby involved might be enough to tie Kyouhei’s hands?”

She gasped softly, eyes flashing open wide, even as the color leeched out of her face.  “You mean, you think they’d use this child to make him go along with whatever they wanted?”

Ben shrugged, hoping that Charity couldn’t see right through his show of bravado, yet knowing, deep down, that she was entirely too perceptive for the ruse to actually work.  “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.  “That would be low, even for them.”

Which was true, wasn’t it?  And yet, Ben knew, didn’t he?  Knew, just from the time he’d spent with his brother . . . Kyouhei was a decent man, one who had taken to the girls without any real effort.  Was it so hard to believe that his parents would have realized this, too?  That they’d know, that they’d realize, that Kyouhei . . .

Charity shook her head, unable to really accept the idea that Ben had presented.  "That's . . . That's . . ."

Ben grunted.  "That's how they are," he replied.

She sighed.  "And that’s why . . . Kyouhei-san . . . He doesn't want to leave because of the baby," she muttered, her hanyou ears flicking with her obvious irritation.

"Yeah," Ben said, unable to brush off the mounting irritation—the rising sense of dread.  "Yeah . . ."

Kyouhei sat, off to the left, behind the row of assembled dignitaries, with the rest of the trusted few who had accompanied their lords to the formal gathering.  The hour was late, and the oil in the old-fashioned braziers was burning low, which only meant that they would have to take a break for refreshment to allow them to be refilled discreetly.

"Why haven't they issued the hunt yet?" Heinreich Gustav demanded, refusing to stand upon formality.  The burly German boar-youkai slammed his meaty fist down on the tatami mat out of sheer frustration.  “Inutaisho is always quick to mete out justice, isn't he?  Why is he hesitating now?"

"Patience is a virtue that our illustrious tai-youkai has learned," Tetsuo remarked, judiciously choosing to ignore Heinreich's faux pas.

"I have heard that Izayoi InuYasha has returned from his stay in the States," Jorges Mormount added, his snake-like visage attesting to his lineage.

"It is unacceptable!" Johnston Ray, a North American bison-youkai, grumbled.  "The Zelig mocks us almost as much as Sesshoumaru!  Hanyou are fine, but they don't belong in the houses of the tai-youkai, and he's one of the worst offenders!  There are others who think the same thing as we do," he went on, sitting up a little straighter, his murky gaze slowly shifting around the assembly.  "I say we coordinate our efforts—reach out to more of those who share our ideals!  There is power in numbers!  They cannot ignore—"

"There is also weakness in numbers," Muira Hidekea interrupted, his voice loud, strong, arrogant.  "The more you involve, the greater the threat that someone will turn against us."

"And isn't it your son who clamors around the Zelig as little more than the tai-youkai's lackey?" Ray sneered.

The irritation that flashed in Hidekea's gaze was hidden from everyone except for Kyouhei.  He knew his father a little too well to think that Ray hadn't just slighted Hidekea's honor in the absolute worst way.  "I have only one son, and he is sitting right there," Hidekea stated.  "Do not presume that you know my business, Johnston."

"A shame, that is," Tetsuo remarked thoughtfully, idly stroking his beard.  "He would make an excellent spy if he had not opted to side against us."

Hidekea’s lip curled derisively—a show of amusement that lacked any real humor.  "It isn't a matter of taking sides.  That one is dead to me, as he has been for centuries."

"Back on topic," Eikishi Wakashi interrupted with a bow as a very nasty smile twisted his lips, "if we want them to send their very best hunter, then I guess perhaps it's time to up the ante."

Balthazar Antonio, a fruit-bat-youkai from Spain, held up his hand to gain the floor before speaking.  "Would it not be simpler just to kill the mates?  The end results would be the same.  The hunter Ryomaru has a human mate.  Kill the head, and the body will follow . . ."

"You forget InuYasha," Hidekea replied.  "One would be foolish to try to breach his forest, and as I hear it, he has an exceptional sense of smell—for a hanyou.  He would know almost instantly if there was an intruder in his perceived domain."

"And his miko . . . She's the one who destroyed Naraku," Tetsuo added.  "She possesses the power to purify anyone she chooses."  The edge of his lip rose in a silent snarl, revealing a razor-sharp fang.  "I despite that family."

"Pardon, Hidekea-sama," Yoshi, the family's butler, interrupted with a low bow.  "Yukina-sama has bid me tell you that refreshment is available, should you wish to take a break."

A good number of the youkai stood up to follow Yoshi.  Sparing a covert glance at his father, Kyouhei wasn't surprised to see the absolute irritation on Hidekea's features at the abrupt interruption of the meeting.

Rising to his feet, Kyouhei started to follow until his father's voice called him back.  "Otou-san?" he asked as he stepped over to him.

Green eyes sparking, igniting in the faltering light, Hidekea's expression was entirely foreboding.  "Find out everything you can about that one— Johnston Ray," he commanded quietly.  "I will destroy him when this is all over."

Kyouhei nodded.  "As you wish."

Hidekea still didn't look pleased.  Then he narrowed his gaze on Kyouhei.  "What are you wearing?" he demanded.

Glancing down at himself, Kyouhei shrugged at the standard suit he wore.  Hidekea demanded that he dress appropriately in his presence, and that meant traditional Japanese garb, befitting of his station.  "I came straight here when you called," he replied.  "I didn't have time to change."

Hidekea scoffed.  "See that you rectify that before the meeting resumes," he stated in a tone that Kyouhei was all-too-familiar with—and that he despised.  Still, he bowed to his father.

He didn't follow their guests to the main room where all the refreshments were laid out, veering to the left instead as he stepped out onto the walkway that lined the entire back of the house.

His room was exactly how he'd left it when he'd moved out of his father's house centuries ago, and he sighed when he spotted his antiquated formal attire, already hanging over a screen.  Stripping off his jacket and shirt, he carefully shook them out, folding them neatly and setting them aside before reaching for his other outfit.

A soft knock on the door sounded in the quiet.  "Come," he called, folding his slacks and setting them aside, too, as he reached for the hakama.

The youkai woman who slipped into the room with a pitcher of water and a towel paused long enough to bow to him before setting the things on a nearby table.  "Welcome home, Kyouhei-sama," she said, bowing again as Kyouhei rolled his eyes.

"We're alone, Hana.  You can drop the formality."

Her cheeks pinked at the perceived reprimand, and she bowed for the third time.  "I cannot," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.  "If Yukina-sama were to overhear . . ."

He made a face, waving her away when she stepped over with a dampened cloth to wipe him down.  "You've been my friend ever since I can remember," he reminded her.  "I think we're past the 'sama' stage, don't you?"

Biting her lip, she slowly shook her head.  Her mother had worked for the family as a servant for a long, long time, until such time that keeping servants was outlawed.  Her father was a freeman who farmed some of Hidekea's land nearby, but even after her mother was freed, she stayed on out of misplaced loyalty until the day she died.  Hana was seven at the time.  Kyouhei was eight.

It was one of the only things that Kyouhei had never told Hana.  She was closer to him than anyone and always had been, being the only other child on the premises, and the two of them had become the best of friends.  That day, Hana's mother, Saeko had stayed behind to help with dinner preparations and a thorough house cleaning while Hana had gone with the rest of the younger women to wash laundry in the nearby stream.  Hidekea was expecting a visit—Kyouhei didn't remember who it was, and it didn't really matter now.  Somehow, one of the family's priceless heirloom vases was knocked off of the pedestal it sat on, only to shatter on the floor, and for the slight, Kyouhei had watched in abject horror as Yukina had beaten Saeko to death in the middle of the formal receiving room in a fit of absolute rage.  When Hana had come back with the others hours later, all she had been told was that her mother had died in an accident, and, as far as Kyouhei knew, no one had ever told her the truth, either, and when her father died a couple of months later . . . Yet, no one said a thing . . .

"Why do you stay here, Hana?" he asked, draping his hands on his hips as he turned to face her.

She shook her head, her confusion at his question obvious.  "They're . . . They're like family," she said simply.  "And you . . ."

Kyouhei gritted his teeth, reaching for the montsuki kimono instead.  As much as she might deserve to know the truth of the whole thing, Hana was entirely too sweet, too gentle, too naïve to think that she wouldn't be completely devastated if she ever found out what had really happened on that awful afternoon so long ago.  "You could come work for me," he offered.

For a moment, she seemed like she might well take him up on his offer, but in the end, she shook her head.  "I owe your parents so much," she said.  "They kept me here after okaa-san and otou-san died, and they didn't have to—gave me a place to stay, made sure I had things to eat . . . They're very good to me."

"Hana, you know, you really . . . Really don't owe them a damn thing . . ."

Reaching out with a sigh, he pulled her into his arms despite her token resistance.  Lowering his mouth to hers, she pushed at his shoulders for a few moments before relaxing against him with a quiet whimper, a trill of passion that thundered through his veins like fire . . .

"I . . . I'll be missed if I'm gone too long," she said, pulling back just enough to speak. "But later . . .?  If you stay tonight . . ."

He tamped down the rioting desire.  It was difficult.  "That's a given," he growled, stealing one more kiss before finally relenting and letting go of her.

She stepped back and smiled as she helped him finish dressing, as she moved around him to adjust his clothes and to pull his hair back into the ribbon tie that Hidekea preferred.  "Now you look respectable," she concluded as she stepped away to give him the critical eye.

He couldn't even summon up the will to smile back at her, but if she noticed, she didn't comment, and with another bow, she backed out of the room once more, leaving Kyouhei alone with nothing more than his thoughts again.

"This one drinks her bottle, cries when you put her down, and pees . . . And she's micro chipped so you can set a schedule via any online connection if you register her and create an account so she'll cry at random intervals, just like a real baby . . ." Ben frowned as he set the doll back on the shelf again.  "Shouldn’t there be some kind of awe when it comes to this kind of thing?  It'll scare little girls away from wanting children of their own one day.  I mean, there's something to be said about trying to be too realistic."

Charity giggled and picked up a soft, tan colored, plush teddy bear to show it to Nadia.  The baby screeched happily, waving her hands in an effort to capture the animal.  "Well, they are still a little too small for those, anyway."

He picked up a soft-bodied cloth doll with felted yarn hair, clothes that were half-printed on and half loose.  The little sweater that covered the bright yellow pre-printed dress top below buttoned up, the skirt was a double-layered affair over white printed bloomers.  The stockings pulled up and down, the sewed-on vinyl shoes had Velcro on one of them and a small zipper on the other.  Clearly, the doll was created to help babies develop their fine motor skills, and he chuckled as he held it up for Emmeline to see.  She squealed in delight, reaching for the doll as she babbled sweetly.  Ben grabbed the pale purple dress version for Nadia and dropped them into the small cart.  Emmeline fussed at the perceived loss of the doll.

Charity peered over into the cart at the new additions, and smiled.  "Those are really cute," she said, turning that grin on him.

He chuckled.  "Yeah, but I think it was a bad idea to show her first," he said, wincing as Emmeline squalled angrily.  Pulling her out of the baby sling, he cuddled her against his shoulder.  She calmed down almost immediately, heaving a tumultuous sigh as she fussed to herself while Ben patted her back and twisted at the waist to soothe her.

Scowling thoughtfully at the overloaded cart, Ben shook his head.  "Cherry . . ."

"Hmm?" she intoned, carefully stooping down to retrieve a bright yellow block container with various shaped blocks that fit into specifically shaped holes in the top.

"How are we going to get all this crap back to the house?"

She paused and stood up, and, judging from the look on her face, she hadn't actually considered that, either.  "Um . . . Maybe they would be willing to deliver them if we pay them extra?" she pondered.

Ben wasn't as convinced.  Then again, there usually was someone around who would jump at the chance to make a little extra cash, so maybe it would be possible.  Even then, he supposed it was poor planning on his part, given that he knew that they were going Christmas shopping for the girls but hadn't brought along anything other than the stroller that was already crammed full with things that they'd purchased along the way.

Even so, Charity still balanced two of the block boxes on top of the toy mountain.  "I think we've done as much damage as we possibly can," she mused.

Ben followed her to the checkout line and carefully slipped Emmeline back into the sling once more.  Luckily for them, the cashier said that she was sure they had someone who would be willing to deliver the items, especially when he offered an extra two hundred US dollars to sweeten the deal, and he wrote down the directions to the island.  The cashier said she'd arrange for someone to deliver the stuff by the end of the week, which was good enough for Ben, and he handed over the money.

"Oh, wait," Charity exclaimed as they stepped outside of the store.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

She giggled as she dug out her phone.  "We need a picture, don't you think?  Something to commemorate our first Christmas shopping trip with the babies!"

She fiddled with the phone for a minute, then heaved a sigh.  "This isn't going to work," she said.  "I can't get Nadi in the picture if I try to hold the phone out like this . . . "

Ben took the device and moved in close to Charity, but the angle wasn't right for him, either, and Emmeline ended up being half-out of frame.  "I don't think it's possible," he told her, handing back the phone.

She wrinkled her nose and quickly looked around.  "Excuse me!" she called, hurrying down the sidewalk, chasing after two young men.  "I'm sorry to bother you.  I was wondering if one of you could help us?  We're trying to get a picture . . ."

Ben's gaze widened as the men approached with Charity.  "Just one picture, if it's no trouble.  Here's my phone . . ."

The men—those two . . . 'Youkai . . .?  And that one . . . He's a cougar?'  It was true.  

"I appreciate this so much!" Charity went on.  "It's their first Christmas," she said, gesturing at the twins as she handed over her phone.  "It's so nice of you to take time out to help us . . ."

"Y-Yeah," the cougar-youkai said, fiddling with the phone, holding it up and frowning at the display.  "Uh, can you scoot closer together?"

Ben slipped an arm around Charity's waist, brushing aside the strange sense of general distrust that had surged through him about the time he'd realized that one of them was a cougar-youkai.  They actually seemed to be far more interested in Charity's phone than they were in Ben or the babies, and even then, there were lots of cougar-youkai in the world.  There was nothing to indicate that the two were interested in causing any trouble, and even though Ben wasn't entirely sure what to think, his gut instinct told him that he might just be overreacting.

The one with the shorter, spiky blonde hair leaned in to peer over the cougar's shoulder as he lined up the shot.

"Turn the camera," the spiky one said, grasping the corner of the phone and rotating it.

"There," the cougar said after snapping a couple of pictures.  He held out the phone, and Charity smiled brightly as she took it back and dug into her purse for a few bills.

"Hold on," she called when the boys started to walk away.  "Let me give you something for your trouble . . ."

"Oh, uh, forget about it," the cougar told her.

"Yeah, yeah," the other added, peering back over his shoulder for a second.  "Merry Christmas."