InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Surge ( Chapter 38 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

"I'm surprised you're here, all things considered."

Ben sipped from a glass of champagne and nodded at Zelig as he slid up beside him, frowning at his wife, who was dancing with one of the many humans that had been crowding her all evening—an occurrence that Ben figured Zelig should be used to by now.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Ben remarked rather sardonically.  "She wanted to come," he relented, nodding his head at Charity.  As if she sensed Ben's casual perusal, she turned her head, smiled at him, until her father turned in their dance, effectively blocking her from view.  "You still in the—" he gave a discreet cough, "—doghouse?"

"Nope," Cain replied.  "Barely . . . Next time you decide to fight with her, leave us out of it, won't you?"

Ben broke into a vague grin.  "She does have a point.  You do tend to shelter them far too much."

"And you don't?" Cain countered mildly, arching an eyebrow as he dug his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"Just the one time," he said.

Cain snorted.  "So, how long have you been interested in her?" he asked.

Ben shot Cain a quizzical look before his gaze sought out Charity once more.  She wasn't hard to find in the shimmering pewter silk dress she wore—one that showed a very nice amount of cleavage that had left Ben gaping in unabashed surprise since it wasn't the kind of dress he'd ever seen on her before, and the flirt of a skirt that barely brushed mid-thigh . . . Hair caught up, only to spill down her bared back in a riot of loose and glossy black curls, she didn't look anything like the Charity he knew, and, while he could say that he preferred the every-day version well enough, he couldn't complain about the difference, either . . .

"Interested in Charity?" he repeated, sipping the champagne once more.  "A very long time, Zelig," he admitted.  "Longer than I probably should have been . . ."

"Hmm," Cain intoned with an offhanded shrug.  "Maybe you shouldn't let Toga hear you say that."

"Not that long, you pervert," Ben grumbled, slowly shaking his head.

“How long is, ‘not that long’, then?” he pressed.

Ben sighed.  “When did I know, you mean?”

Nodding slowly, Cain sipped his champagne, gaze still trained on his mate.

“One of these parties, and Charity was . . . nineteen.”

“Nineteen?” Cain echoed, arching an articulated eyebrow at him.  “Pervert, indeed.”

Ben snorted indelicately.  “I quite obviously didn’t do anything about it, now, did I?” he retorted dryly.

Cain chuckled, but the sound cut off abruptly when the man Gin was dancing with tried to pull her a little closer.  "Excuse me, Ben," he muttered, striding away and making no bones about exactly where he was ultimately headed.

Ben considered intercepting Zelig before the latter caused a scene.  About as quickly as the idea occurred to him, however, he dismissed it entirely.  Zelig was normally pretty good about keeping a lid on his emotions—and if he didn't, then at least there would be some unscheduled fireworks.  Either way, Ben figured it was a win-win situation . . .

A slight flicker of movement off to the side drew his attention, and he frowned as he shifted his gaze far enough to stare at the tall windows, flanking the French doors on the far side of the hall that had been rented for the occasion.  A moment later, he saw it again, only this time, the flicker had a shape, and he stepped away, skirting around the crowd of arranged tables that circled the dance floor, setting the empty champagne flute on a nearby table and making his way to the sparkling French doors that led to the terrace.

The night was crisp, cold, threatening a snow that had yet to fall.  Ben drew a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air, especially after having been in the hall for the last couple hours, where the perfume of fresh winter flowers had mingled with the smells of every being in attendance, creating a rather overwhelming wash of scents that were almost a little too much for his senses to handle.

"You could have stepped inside," Ben remarked quietly, keeping his gaze trained on the sky so high above.

Kyouhei slipped out of the shadows but didn't approach just in case he needed to disappear again, Ben supposed.  "I have something for you," he said, foregoing any sort of pleasantries.

A moment later, Kyouhei tossed him a tiny silver flash drive.  Ben caught it and stuffed it into his pocket.  "What's on here?"

"It's a list of all the dissidents.  It's a couple weeks old, though, and there are more now, but it should help, to start with."

"How'd you get it?"

Kyouhei sighed.  "Don't ask me."

Ben nodded slowly.  "Chichiue doesn't suspect anything, does he?"

"No," his brother responded.  "You think I'd still be here if he did?"

Gritting his teeth, Ben finally turned to face Kyouhei.  Veiled in the shadows of the night, it was hard to make out his features, but his eyes glowed in the darkness.  Ben only wished that he could read them.  "I've been thinking, Kyouhei . . . Maybe you should stop.  Just get the hell out of there. If they figure out that you're spying . . ."

"It's too late for that, nii-san.  If I backed out—if I stepped away?  Do you honestly think that they'd just stand back and watch me leave?"

"They wouldn't—"

Kyouhei sighed.  "They would.  I've known this for a very long time.  They are not the same parents you knew; not anymore.  Unlike you, I have never been anything more than an extension of otou-san's power: a pale imitation of you—and a poor one, at that, as they’re so fond of telling me . . . There has never been another way out for me.  I don't have the luxury of simply walking away.  I know too much, and that makes me too much of a threat."

He didn’t know why Kyouhei’s words stung him, shocked him, and yet, what he said made perfect sense.  A pale imitation of Ben . . .?  Was that truly how they saw him?  Somehow . . . Somehow, Ben didn’t doubt his words, even if they did completely sicken him.  "You will walk away from them, Kyouhei," Ben said quietly, roughly, his words powered by emotion, by conviction.  "When this is all over, you'll walk away from them, and you'll never have to look back.”

A vague kind of smile, touched by a hint of resignation, of a sadness that twisted the expression into something far, far more melancholy, and Kyouhei slowly shook his head.  “Enjoy the rest of your party, nii-san,” he said, and a moment later, he was gone, slipping away into shadows, leaping away before anyone else could discern him.

Ben didn’t move right away.  Letting out a deep breath as he stared at the stars, so high overhead, he couldn’t help the rumble of impotent anger that simmered, just below the surface.

He’d suspected that maybe he and Kyouhei had been raised in much the same way, hadn’t he?  And yet, he got the feeling now that maybe that wasn’t true, at all.  Oh, the basis of it was likely the same: the apathy, the standoffishness that Ben had known . . . He had very little doubt that Kyouhei, too, was entirely familiar with that, but . . .

But the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes . . . That was what Kyouhei believed, at least, on some level, didn’t he . . .? “Unlike you, I have never been anything more than an extension of otou-san's power: a pale imitation of you—and a poor one, at that, as they’re so fond of telling me . . .”

Ben clenched his jaw so hard that he could feel his teeth, scraping against each other.

“There has never been another way out for me.  I don't have the luxury of simply walking away.  I know too much, and that makes me too much of a threat.”

And that was entirely unacceptable, wasn’t it?  Kyouhei . . . He would find a way to get him away from all of that—away from them—in the end.  There simply wasn’t a question, was there?  One way or another, it was just a little more than Ben could tolerate, the idea of leaving Kyouhei in that toxic environment . . . Ben would get him away from them, and he’d do it before anything happened to him.  “Kyouhei . . . Nii-san . . . yakusoku suru."


"I'm surprised you were able to leave the twins for this little soiree."

Charity laughed as Mamoruzen danced her around the floor.  It wasn't a common occurrence, for him to go out of his way to dance with her, given that she was, in his opinion, one of his annoying sisters.  Even so, she was enjoying herself, despite the underlying knowledge that Mamoruzen never did anything just for effect, that he likely had a very real reason for asking her to dance.  "Are you kidding?  They're having a great time with Valerie and Evan . . ." She frowned, mostly because Valerie had seemed pretty tired, which was the reason that they'd opted to skip the festivities—though it was anyone's guess as to whether or not she was getting any rest at all since they'd kept Gin and Cain's triplets as well as the twins for the evening . . .

"I take it you've forgiven Ben?"

"We've come to an understanding."

He grunted.  "You know, don't you?  He was only looking out for you—as all of us were."

"I never asked for that," she pointed out.  "You know, I get that you guys all seem to think that we women need to be sheltered and protected, but you, better than anyone, know that it isn't true.  If you guys had done that to nee-san?  She would have killed you all."

"Onee-san's the exception, not the rule," Mamoruzen countered mildly.  "Your problem is that you've never thought with your brain, Charity.  You've always allowed your heart to guide you.  It makes you careless."

"You don't get to criticize me," she pointed out, leaning away far enough to pin him with a level look.  "You're the one who only ever thinks with his head, aren't you?  You're like . . . the Grinch of youkai . . . You need someone who makes your teeny, tiny little heart grow three sizes—maybe four."

"Using children's literary references?  You've definitely adapted to motherhood well enough," he joked.  "Have you spoken to Cassidy?"

Charity picked a bit of lint off of Mamoruzen's otherwise immaculate tuxedo jacket lapel.  "She says that she is planning on flying in during the summer when school is out.  She can't wait to meet the girls, though I'm sure she'll have more than enough time to visit with you, as well."

"I am the next Japanese tai-youkai," he scoffed.  "I do not have the time to entertain my sisters—even Cassidy."

"You'll make the time," she countered mildly.  "She's your favorite, after all."

"This Mamoruzen has no favorites."

Charity laughed as the song ended, as Mamoruzen led her away from the dance floor with his hand on the small of her back.  "A word of advice," he said as he stepped back from her.

"Shouldn't I be the one who is offering you advice?  I'm older than you, you know."

He snorted again.  "Keh!  You played with dolls and other girly crap—I never played.  I constructed things with Kubrick and honed my mental processes with video games."

"You're so full of crap," she scoffed, but her giggle gave her away.

He chuckled.  "Anyway, my advice to you is this: make that old bastard work for it, Charity.  Men don't appreciate anything that is served up on a silver platter, so to speak.  Make him squirm, make him grovel . . ." Mamoruzen trailed off with a rather nasty chuckle.  "Make him beg.  That way, you'll know that he truly appreciates you."

"That's a little messed up," she commented with a shake of her head.

"Men are stupid, Charity—present company excluded.  If you want him to truly appreciate you, then you have to operate on his level."

"Oh, is that what you're telling me to do?  Is that how you operate, Mamoruzen?"  She laughed and shook her head.  "Hmm, and my advice to you?  This is the . . . third?  Fourth? Time you've brought Stephanie with you to a family function.  You'd better be careful or people are going to talk . . ." she retorted sweetly, nodding at the woman who was currently living with her brother, although the extent of her relationship with him was anyone's guess.  All Charity knew was that Stephanie might live with Mamoruzen, but she didn't sleep in his bedroom, and the real living arrangement between the two was not something that she professed to understand.

"This is a benefit gala," he scoffed.  "She had no plans, and I didn't particularly feel like making other provisions.  It's as simple as that."

"Ever the romantic, aren't you?"

He rolled his eyes.  Given that she knew well enough that he held no stock in things like love and romance, it wasn't surprising at all.  "When I take a mate, it'll be more like a business plan," he said.  "Mutually beneficial to us both without the messy entanglements of love and commitment."

"That actually sounds kind of sad," she said, shaking her head as her smile died away.  "I hope you're wrong for your own sake."

He shrugged, snagging two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter.  He handed one to Charity and stuffed his hand into his pocket as he slouched back against the empty table behind them and gave her a careless glance.  "It's what I want," he stated flatly.  "My life has enough complications.  My mate shouldn't ever be one of them."


Ben slipped back into the hall, pausing long enough for his vision to adjust to the sudden light after being outside in the darkness.  The place really was very lovely—Chelsea Inutaisho knew her business, he concluded.  After all, she was the one who had planned this year's little soiree, or so Charity had told him.

“There has never been another way out for me.  I don't have the luxury of simply walking away.  I know too much, and that makes me too much of a threat.”

Kyouhei's words lingered in Ben's head, and he frowned.  The ominous undertone was there, and, while Ben didn't want to believe what he'd claimed, he also couldn't say that he knew enough about his parents anymore, and yet, he could believe it, too.  After he'd walked away so long ago, it had absolutely tainted how they'd raised his brother, hadn’t it?

Yes, he supposed it could have, and it probably really did.  To have convinced Kyouhei that there really was no way out . . .?  Just what kind of mental damage could that really have done?

“Unlike you, I have never been anything more than an extension of otou-san's power: a pale imitation of you—and a poor one, at that, as they’re so fond of telling me . . .”

'They won't hurt him.  Well, they won’t hurt him more,' Ben thought, his expression darkening by degrees.  'I will not allow it.'

'Okay, but how do we stop it?  Stop them?  Kyouhei's a grown man, and if he can't see a way out of it, then what can you do, nii-san?'

He didn't know, not really.  Even so, even if he had to go there, if he had to confront their father, to let him know that Kyouhei wasn't going to exist like that . . . Kyouhei might well be a grown man, but that didn't actually mean anything when Ben had also gotten glimpses of the underlying gentleness that Kyouhei tried to hide.  Maybe no one else could see it, but Ben could, even if he didn't know why that was . . . The thing was, Ben also had a feeling that, if it came down to a fight for his own life, Kyouhei wouldn't, not against their father.  It wasn't weakness, no, it was something far nobler than anything Ben possessed within himself, and even if Kyouhei somehow would fight back, they’d effectively tied his hands, hadn’t they?  And they’d used the unborn child to do it . . .

"You look like you want to rip someone's head off, Ben . . . Why is that?"

Blinking away the lingering thoughts that plagued him, Ben shifted his gaze to meet Chelsea's very acute stare.  "Wonderful job, planning Gin's little party," he said, ignoring her commentary as he forced a very wan smile.  It was all he could manage, given the darkness of his thoughts.

"Thank you," she replied, pasting on a smile that matched his own as she slipped a hand up under his arm.  "Dance with me, will you?"

Seeing no way around it, he led her toward the dance floor.  Charity was over, chatting with her aunt and mother, and when she intercepted his look, she smiled.

"Charity said the adoption's final.  Congratulations."

"Thanks," he replied, drawing her into his arms at a respectable distance as the music started up once more.  She'd hired a very nice string quartet for the occasion.

Chelsea sighed.  "Listen, I wanted to apologize for threatening you the last time I saw you," she said quietly.  "I was just . . ."

"Just looking out for your sister," he concluded.  "It's fine."

"It's just, you know . . . I mean, you have to know, right?  She's always been so . . . so naive, and you?  Well, you're her biggest weakness . . . Have been since you danced with her at that party when we were . . . what?  Nineteen?  Twenty?"

"Have I?" he couldn't help asking, inordinately amused by the idea that they'd connected so well that long ago.

Chelsea smiled.  "Just make her happy, okay?"

Ben chuckled.  "I think I can do that."

She laughed and offered him a coquettish wink.  "So, tell me—I swear, I won't tell her—have you given any thought as to how you'll propose?  I mean, I assume that's part of your plan?"

Ben stumbled slightly.  Considering he hadn't actually given it that much thought, the question was a little more surprising than it should have been.  "Oh, uh . . ."

Stopping, mid-dance, Chelsea crossed her arms over her chest and arched a raven eyebrow at him.  "You're not going to propose?"

He grasped her hand and drew her back into the motion before anyone else noticed.  "I hadn't gotten that far yet, no," he commented, fighting back the redness that he could feel creeping into his cheeks.  "I mean, there's been a lot going on lately, but I'm getting there . . . "

She shook her head.  "You know that she's always dreamed of her wedding day," Chelsea went on.  "Even when we were little, she'd always make Papa pretend that he was walking her down the aisle.  We’d seen an American wedding on YouTube, right?  And once she’d seen that, she was obsessed.  Of course, back then, she tended to use her baby blanket as a wedding veil, but you get the idea . . ."

"All right," he grumbled.  "I get your point."

Chelsea nodded.  "I wasn't kidding about her pretend weddings.  She used to do it all the time—at least, until Mamoruzen got big enough to realize what we were playing, anyway . . ."

Ben's lips twitched, though he managed to retain the blank expression on his face.  "She used to marry . . . her brother . . .?"

"It didn't seem nearly as weird back then," she remarked, her eyes twinkling as the barest hint of a smile broke over her features.  "Papa thought it was cute."

"I am learning fast that your father is a little twisted," Ben muttered.

"Excuse me . . . I think I'd like to cut in—before you tell Ben any more humiliating stories . . ."

Ben smiled as Chelsea stepped back, giving him a wink as she leaned in quickly to kiss Charity's cheek.  "I'm going to go make Papa dance with me," she said.  "Think about what we talked about, Ben!"

"What you two talked about?" she echoed, lifting her eyebrows as she watched her twin retreat.  "Was it worse than play-marrying Mamoruzen?"

Pulling her into his arms, he sighed as he breathed in her entirely welcome scent.  "It’s not that bad," he replied, though his tone of voice just might have been a little more tolerant than it should have been.  "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

She gasped softly and quickly shook her head.

"You are," he insisted, tucking her hand against his heart as he slowly turned her around in his arms.  "I mean, you are every day.  You need to know that.  Tonight, though, you're beautiful in an entirely different way."  He sighed as he leaned down, as he let his lips brush against her forehead.  "I think I prefer how you look every day, though," he mused slowly, thoughtfully.  "As gorgeous as you are tonight, you seem . . . harder for me to reach . . ."

"I'm right here," she whispered, craning her neck to peer up at him, the gold of her eyes taking on a sherry glow, a luminance that came from somewhere deep down inside.

He stared at her for a long heartbeat, memorizing everything about her in the space of an instant.  The soft curves of her face, the gentle hollows . . . The dusty rose of her lips, touched with just a hint of rose gloss . . . The impossibly long eyelashes that fanned down over her cheeks when she blinked . . . The perfection of her small hand, folded securely in his as the warmth of her youki wrapped around him, mingled with his in a perfectly stunning resonance, a radiant light that banished the shadows from his mind . . .

He didn't think twice as he leaned down, as he brushed his lips over hers, as time stopped, stilled, only for them, and only for the moment . . .