InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Gravity ( Chapter 46 )

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

"Charity, where do you want this box?  It says: babies and bathroom?" Griffin Marin asked, scowling at Charity in his regular growly-kind of way.

"Where else?" Isabelle, his wife, said with a cheeky grin as she patted Griffin on the rear.  "In the girls' bathroom."

He grunted, his cheeks blossoming in indignant color as he scowled at his wife.  "Knock that off, Jezabel."

She giggled as Griffin lumbered away with the box.

"Kitchen shit!  Coming through!" Evan Zelig announced as he strode through the door with two very large boxes that he couldn't possibly see around.  "Hope to God there's nothing breakable in these . . ."

Valerie slowly shook her head, bracing her hands against the small of her back.  At a little over seven months pregnant, she wasn't huge, but, given that she was so slender to start with, the added weight was messing with her.  For the most part, she was helping Charity to direct traffic and helping to corral the girls, as well.  "If he breaks anything, bill him," Valerie muttered.  "He's got more money than God, anyway."

"Move it, Evan," Bas grumbled, carrying one of the huge living room chairs inside and having to stop abruptly before he mowed his brother down.  "You're not moving again anytime soon, are you, Charity?"

She laughed and waved him into the living room.

"I get why you'd draft Bas into helping—he's as big as a damn bulldozer—but why me?" Gunnar demanded darkly as he followed Bas with the other chair.

"Because she's your sister, and you love her," Sydnie purred, leaning up on tiptoe to lick Gunnar's cheek.

Gunnar chuckled.  "If you say so, puss."

"Hell, I'm human.  I shouldn't have to help with this crap," Kurt Drevin complained as he and Cain waited for Gunnar to move since they were carrying the sofa.  "I'm too old for this."  He grunted when his daughter, six-year-old Tanny, climbed onto the sofa and started bouncing up and down, doubtless hyper from the Laffy Taffy Charity had fed her a little while ago.  "Uh, Sam!"

Samantha Drevin peeked around the corner from the formal dining room where she was in charge of unpacking.  "Yes, taijya?"

"A little help here?" he requested, nodding at their rambunctious child.  Samantha giggled and hurried over to pick up Tanny.

"Charity, where do you want these?" Gunnar called from the living room.

"In there, I take it?" Cain asked, jerking his head toward the sound of Gunnar's voice.

"Yes, please."

They'd just gotten the sofa through the high archway when Gavin wandered in, carrying the very large, very heavy coffee table.  He caught Charity's gaze and jerked his head, too.

"It's such a turn-on, watching him carrying around stuff like that, like it was nothing at all," Jillian Jamison remarked, smiling appreciatively as she watched her mate negotiate the table.

"Jill-i!" he groaned, face reddening fast as he caught and interpreted her expression.

Jillian blinked innocently and hurried past Charity to Gavin's side.  "What?"

"There are too many Zeligs in this house," Ben remarked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the men in the living room.

She smacked him gently with the back of her hand.  "Be nice," she insisted with a laugh.

"Charity, get in here, and tell us where you want your crap," Gunnar hollered.

She shook her head but started toward the archway, only to be stopped by Bailey and Daniel, both of whom had small totes of toys.  "Where you want these, Chawwy?" the nearly four-year-old asked solemnly.

She knelt down to look Bailey in the eye.  "Those go up in the girls' room . . . Do you know where that is?"

He thought about it, then nodded.  "Okay . . . C'mon, Danny."

A very loud, 'thud' made her whip her head to the side, just in time to see her brother drop the chair on the floor with a very marked scowl on his face.  "Good 'nough," he stated.  "If you want it moved, make that old panther do it."

Charity turned her head to peer up at Ben, who was watching the entire debacle with a trace smile on his face.  "Why aren't you helping?" she asked suspiciously.

He chuckled.  "It might put undue stress on my heart, don't you think?"

She rolled her eyes and stood up to push him into the living room.  "Baka," she muttered.  Then she laughed, which completely ruined the stern expression she was trying for.

"Okay," Ben called over his shoulder as he ambled toward the group of men, "if I drop dead, you'll be sorry."

And that only made her giggle a little more as she turned around once more to hurry outside to the moving truck.  Crossing her arms over her chest as she stepped around the wide-open doors, she cocked an eyebrow at her twin, who was sitting in the van on one of the dining chairs, carefully filing her claws.  "What do you think you're doing?" she asked, slowly shaking her head as she heaved herself into the truck to grab the next box.

"Charity, when I agreed to help you move?"

"Ye-e-e-es?"

"I thought you were joking."

Her mouth dropped open for a moment, and then she snapped it closed as she rolled her eyes at her twin.  "Grab a box and come on," she said.

Chelsea heaved a put-upon sigh, but took the box that Charity handed to her.  Charity grabbed the travel playpen and hopped out of the truck again, barely avoiding Griffin.  "Oh, sorry!" she exclaimed.

He reached out, steadied her, before quickly dropping his hands from her arms.  "No harm done," he muttered.  "Not like you're as big as Isabelle, anyway."

Charity laughed and hurried around him.  She'd been wanting to locate the playpen, to help keep the girls occupied since they were currently sharing one with the triplets, so it was pretty crowded.

At least most of the big things were already moved.  They'd only had to pack up a few things that hadn't fit into the movers' truck yesterday.  In return for helping them move, Ben had promised them a cookout—and booze.

'Look at the bright side.'

She giggled.  'Is there one?'

Her youkai laughed.  'At least you won't be moving again, any time soon.'

Yeah, she supposed.  There was that . . .


Leaning against the railing as she watched the unfolding drama, Charity heaved a sigh and slowly shook her head as Gunnar swung his sword in a tight circle, apparently loosening up his muscles as he leveled it at Bas' chest and stood in ready.  "All right, big man.  Bring it if you can."

Bas snorted at Gunnar's obvious barb, jabbing the tip of his sword into the earth and crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back, obviously unconcerned with the threat that Gunnar could pose.  "Somehow, I don't feel like I'll even need that against you," he tossed back.

Gunnar rolled his eyes.  "Then I won't feel bad if Syd gets you back in pieces, Bas-tard."

Oh, it had started innocently enough.  For reasons that Charity had yet to comprehend, the subject had come up about her fight against the Unkers, and the general assumption had been that the family must have been weak, not only because they'd used a gun against Ben, but how else on earth could someone like Charity have beaten them, and alone, no less?  That insinuation had come from Gunnar, of course, and before Charity could disabuse him of that foolish notion, Bas interrupted her brother to say that he shouldn't be jealous that his sister was a better fighter than he was, and that was why everyone had ended up out here in the back yard . . .

"Your family is entirely too blood-thirsty, if you ask me," Ben remarked, slipping his arms around Charity's waist, drawing her back against him.  "Bunch of damn heathens . . . Just what was Cain thinking?"

"Cain was thinking that it's been a while since those boys got any real exercise," Cain remarked, standing beside them with an arm around Gin.

"Are you going to fight, too, Zelig-sensei?" she asked a little breathlessly.

"Hell, no, ol' Cain never fights," Evan interjected.  "He might break a claw or something . . ."

"Keep talking, Evan," Cain replied in a bored tone.  "Disarm only, you two," he called to the two combatants.

Bas snorted.  Gunnar flicked a wrist to wave his acknowledgement.

"Can Ben even fight?" Chelsea asked, hopping onto the railing and settling in to watch the battle.

Ben snorted.  "Of course, I can."

"Uh huh," she intoned skeptically.  "Oh, there goes Mamo-chan . . ."

Sure enough, Gunnar shot forward, cleaving his sword in a broad arc.  Bas yanked Triumvirate free and met Keppanshuto—Gunnar's legacy blade—with a thunderous crash, a violent spray of sparks.  From where she stood, she could see the thick, corded muscles on Bas' arms, straining as he held Triumvirate against the force with which Gunnar held him—a crazy notion, really, to try to outmuscle Bas . . .

With a mighty heave, Bas sent Gunnar sliding back a good four feet before Gunnar managed to stop himself, digging the heels of his boots into the barren ground before launching himself at Bas once more.  This time, however, he managed a flicker-flash of his body, coming up behind Bas and kicking his feet out from under him before he could spin around to intercept Gunnar.  Leveling Keppanshuto's tip at Bas' throat, he grinned down at Bas and chuckled.  "I believe I just won," he stated, holding the sword still for a moment longer than was necessary before dropping it into the scabbard and stepping back.

Bas got to his feet and rolled his eyes.  "When did you learn that?" he asked, sheathing his own sword.

"Unlike you, Bas, I train regularly," Gunnar scoffed.

"I didn't realize a hanyou could do that," Ben muttered to Cain.

Cain shrugged.  "Never seen one do it before . . . until now."

"Oh, damn!" Evan exclaimed, vaulting the railing in his excitement as he strode over to push Bas back toward the stone patio, flipping his head from side to side to crack his neck.  "Let's see you try that shit on me, Gunsie."

Gunnar snorted.  "Oh, great.  It's the hanyoukai jackrabbit."

Evan tossed Ternion end over end, only to catch it neatly as it came down behind his back.  "Bring it, bitch!" he hollered, dashing forward with enough speed that his body seemed to be blurred.

"That one doesn't need a flicker-flash," Ben muttered.

Cain grunted.

Gunnar neatly sidestepped Evan as he whipped his sword forward.  Knocking away Ternion's blade, he countered with a flick of the wrist.

Valerie sighed.  "Gunnar's going to wipe the ground with him, isn't he?" she stated flatly.

"If he can catch him, maybe," Bas grumbled, obviously still irritated that Gunnar had managed to get one over on him.

"I bet you could do that, too, Sebastian, if you applied yourself," Gin mused.

Bas snorted.  Loudly.

They were pretty evenly matched, which only meant that Evan was actually serious for once.  Gunnar was more efficient, wasting nothing on flashy moves, while Evan was marginally faster, hopping out of the way to avoid the majority of Gunnar's attacks, easily blocking when he couldn't avoid them.  Charity hadn't seen Evan spar in a long, long time, but she remembered just how fast he actually was—by far the most agile of all of the pups in that generation, and he proved it again, dashing forward to land a quick hit with the side of his blade that Gunnar couldn't avoid, and he hissed sharply, shifting Keppanshuto from his right hand to his left, shaking the appendage as a tiny line of blood streaked across the back of his hand.

He was growing more and more annoyed by the second, though, and Charity wasn't surprised when Gunnar shot forward, bringing Keppanshuto up, wrenching his wrist as the tip of the blade came into contact with Ternion's hilt, almost seemed to wrap around it, and jerked it out of Evan's grasp.  Ternion clattered to the ground, and Evan grinned like a lunatic.  "Nice, Gunsie," he remarked as he retrieved the sword.  "Sorry 'bout the cut."

"Gavvie, you should fight him," Jillian said, beaming up at her mate.

Gavin made a face.  "My sword's back home, Jilli," he reminded her.  "And I don't think anyone here could fight him with a simple bokken—unless you're Cain . . ."

"Cherry, can you beat him?" Ben asked, nodding toward Gunnar, who sheathed his sword and waited.

"I . . ."

"Charity?" Gunnar scoffed, arching an eyebrow as he stared at Ben.  "No, she can't beat me."

Charity snorted.  True, she didn't like to participate in the makeshift tournaments, but she also hated to be underestimated.  Add to that, the borderline belittling of her skills that had gone on earlier, and she crossed her arms stubbornly as she glared at her brother.

"She doesn't even have a sword," Gunnar went on.  "Do you, Cherry?"

Narrowing her eyes at the very obvious taunt, she stared at her brother for a full moment before turning her head to look up at Ben.  "Can I borrow yours?"

He seemed surprised by her question, but he nodded.  "I'll go get it . . ."

"Oh, come on, you're not serious," Gunnar muttered as Charity stalked down the stone steps.

She didn't reply as she waited for Ben to bring his sword.

It didn't take him long.  Amidst the ribbing that Gunnar was taking from Bas and Evan both, she took the katana and turned to face her brother.

Gunnar snorted.  "This is ridiculous . . . I need a bokken."

Charity shook her head and gripped the sword with both hands.  "Use yours, Mamoruzen," she said.  "And don't you dare pull any punches, either."

He looked like he was going to argue with her.  Standing with his hands on his hips, he made no move to draw Keppanshuto.  Gritting her teeth, she glared at her brother, hating the smug way he seemed to just assume that he could disarm her so easily.

"See, Papa?  Charity's going to fight Mamoruzen!" Gin said, turning her phone and holding it out to catch the scene unfolding.

"Keh!  What the fuck for?" he growled.

"This is absolutely stupid," Gunnar insisted derisively.  "Go back up there.  Send Ben down if you want.  Hell, send Cain down.  Send that old bear down if you want, but I'm not fighting you."

"Fight her, Gunnar."

Gunnar blinked and shifted his gaze to the phone in Gin's hand.  "What?"

InuYasha grunted.  "Fight her, I said, and stop acting like a damn brat."

He still looked like he was going to argue it, but he heaved a sigh and finally drew his sword.  "All right, Charity.  But remember: you wanted to do this."

She hopped out of the way when he dashed toward her, and she managed to knock his blade to the side as he swung it.  Uttering a grunt of frustration when she noted that he hadn't put much power behind it at all, she tamped down the irritation that surged through her at the blatant slight.  That was fine, wasn't it?  If he wasn't going to take this seriously, then that was on him . . .

She pushed herself off the ground, turning in mid-air to land beside him as she flicked out the katana faster than he could react.  Uttering a terse grunt as he wiped a thin trickle of blood from the scratch on his cheek, he narrowed his eyes on her and growled low as he launched himself at her again.

She spun away, bringing the katana up and out with a flick of her arm as he tried to duck and parry at the same time.  Before he could right his stance, though, she dropped to the ground, kicking out her leg as she brought it around full-circle, catching Gunnar's ankles in much the same way that he'd done to Bas.  Instead of leveling the sword on him, however, she stood, driving the katana down hard, pinning Gunnar's arm to the ground through the fabric of his shirt as Keppanshuto slipped harmlessly from his immobile hand.

"I win," she stated quietly, glaring at him for a long moment before turning on her heel and stomping across the dirt, away from the patio—away from everyone.



Charity stared out over the ocean, sniffling quietly as she quickly dashed a hand over her eyes, hating that she couldn't seem to get control over her emotions.  That old anger had come back, the same ugly thing that had driven her that night—maybe not as strong, but definitely there . . . It wasn't that she was particularly skilled.  It was that she'd let her own temper goad her into fighting Mamoruzen, and that . . .

"I'm sorry."

Back stiffening at the sound of that particular voice, Charity refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge him.  Half-angry that he'd found her here, crying, and half-mortified that she'd actually let herself be gaoded into fighting him, she couldn't face him—just couldn't . . .

"Why are you crying, Charity?" Gunnar asked as he stepped forward, as he knelt beside her, elbows on knees, hands dangling between.  "You did well, and I . . ." he sighed.  "I shouldn't have teased you about it."

"You didn't want to," she muttered, still unwilling to look at him.  "Yasha-oji-chan made you do it."

"He didn't.  To be honest . . ." Gunnar countered with a shrug.  He looked like he was thinking, like he was trying to decide exactly what he wanted to say.  "That night . . . The night you fought the Unkers . . . When they told me about it later, I . . . I was scared."

She snorted.  "You?  Scared?  You're never scared of anything."

"You've never been a fighter, Charity.  That's why I was scared."  Heaving a sigh, he slowly shook his head.  "You, more than anyone . . . You're the one everyone tried to protect—even me . . . Even if I never said it to you, and when I heard that you had to fight, I was afraid it would break you, so . . ."  He reached over, hooked his crooked index finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him.  He looked so serious—and maybe a little ashamed.  "So, don't let it break you now.  You're stronger than anyone ever thought you were—especially me."

"Thank you," she whispered.

He nodded as his hand dropped away from her.  "Your old panther's looking for you, and I've got to get back.  Tou-san was going to call and give me a status update, so . . . Call me if you need anything—even just a sparring partner.  You should consider resuming your training.  I think you move faster than Evan."

She watched as he stood up, as he brushed off his slacks and started back up the path that led to the house.  He passed Ben, who nodded at him, and she sighed.

"He, uh . . . He felt pretty bad when you took off.  I mean, he didn't say so, but he . . ." Ben shrugged.  "You could tell."

She grimaced.  "I let my anger get the best of me again," she admitted quietly.

He sat behind her, pulled her back against his chest between his spread knees, wrapped her in the security of his arms.  "Why do you seem to believe that you can't be angry?" he mused.  "Why do you believe that anger is a bad emotion?"

"It . . . It is a bad emotion," she countered.  "I mean . . ."

"It's not," he said.  "It's just an emotion.  What you do with it is up to you, just like any other emotion.  Everyone has them—even the ugly ones.  You're a person, you know: a complex, beautiful person.  You're allowed to be imperfect sometimes, and even anger, as hurtful as it can be, has a place, too."

She frowned.  She hadn't really thought about it like that, had she?  Even after her talk with Yasha-oji-chan, she'd thought she'd understood, and she had, to a point, but what Ben had just said . . . What he said made sense, didn't it?  After all, how could she ever truly know happiness or joy if she couldn't understand the darker side of things, too?

"How'd you get so smart, Ben?" she asked quietly, finally relaxing against his chest.

"I'm not," he assured her, kissing her temple and giving her a little squeeze.  "I've just lived a long, long time."

"I don't know . . . I think you're pretty smart."

He chuckled.  "Smart enough to tell you that Eddie's got dinner about ready, and you know how she gets if we don't eat while it's still hot."

She laughed finally and let him help her to her feet after he stood.  "Gunnar said that Papa was going to call with an update . . . Should you go see if you can sit in on it?"

He frowned, and she didn't miss the slight hesitation in his step as he led her back toward the path.  "I'll just call later and get the information," he said with a shrug.  "I'm sure that everything's going according to plan, anyway."