InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Ground Zero ( Chapter 48 )

Ben sat back in the thickly appointed chair in Sesshoumaru's opulent office that overlooked the vast back yard of the Inutaisho estate.  Charity didn't own a place in Japan since she never came for longer than a visit, usually around her mother's birthday or over the holidays when she managed to get time off work—not a problem these days since she was on an extended leave.  Usually, she stayed with her parents, but since they were currently living in the Inutaisho compound, that's where Charity, the twins, and he were staying, too.

InuYasha stood at the window with his back to the occupants of the room, wearing the old fire-rat clothing that he normally only wore these days for training or for ceremony.  Nothing got past him, however, since his ears, like Charity's, twisted and turned to take in every little sound.  Toga leaned against one of the windows behind the hulking expanse of desk, while Ryomaru paced the floor, opening and closing his fist tightly at his side.

And every man in the office wore their swords, too, with the exception of Toga, who used a special halberd that was leaning against the wall by the door.  They'd taken to wearing them at all times since the threat had begun, Ben had been told.

"As of today, we have not heard from Manami in close to two weeks," Sesshoumaru remarked, leveling an inscrutable look at Ben.  "Nor have we heard from Kyouhei."

Ben made a face, ground his teeth together to keep from growling outright.  "The last time I heard from him was about a week ago," he said.  "He would have mentioned if something had happened to Manami, so we can assume that everything was fine until then.  Tell me, though, once she acquired the original target, why keep her out there?"

"Because they just kept switching operatives," Toga said, grimacing as he slowly shook his head.  "And they'll continue to do that as long as Ryomaru remains here."

"You knew they would," Ben countered, barely able to control the censure in his tone.  "You never intended to call her back in, did you?"

Toga shot Sesshoumaru a glance.  The older youkai summarily ignored it as he sat back, steepling is fingers together in front of himself.  "She is very adept at what she does."

"But you realized, didn't you?  You knew that she knows chichiue, hahaue . . . You knew that if either of them saw her that they'd know—that they'd have to know.  They're not stupid, and for every day she's been out there, the risk grows bigger and bigger for her."

"She's the best chance we have," Toga argued.  "I understand that she's special to you—that she's your friend—"

"That's where you're wrong, Toga," Ben cut in.  "She's family to me . . . More so than my own flesh and blood."

"Calm yourself, Benjiro," Sesshoumaru interrupted.  "Your righteous indignation will avail you nothing at the moment.  Best you put it aside and focus on the things that we can control."

"Like?" Ben demanded.

"The other tai-youkai tell me that there has been a significant spike in the numbers of youkai attacks on humans in their jurisdictions," Sesshoumaru said.  "All except for MacDonnough, and his answers are vague, even at the best of times."

"Effective immediately, Europe is no longer considered safe," Toga added.  "Now, we cannot forbid travel, but it must be made clear to all youkai that any travel into Europe should be considered at one's own risk.  I already talked to Zelig-san, and he said he'd take care of issuing the warnings to the right people."

"MacDonnough is going to harbor them," Ben concluded.  Somehow, it just wasn't surprising in the least, was it?  Given his overall disdain for humans and hanyou alike, Ian MacDonnough was monster enough to aid the rebels, if not openly, then by providing them with a safe haven, of sorts.

Sesshoumaru nodded once.  "That is the general consensus, yes."

"Forgive me for asking, but why haven't you just issued a general hunt order for anyone affiliated with the splinter faction?" Ben asked.

"That would be treading on very dangerous territory, Benjiro.  You know this."

"Their ultimate goal is the complete annihilation of humans and hanyou, alike, except for the few they intend to keep alive to use as servants—slaves.  Why aren't these grounds enough for you to do what you need to do?" he demanded.

"We have a few names, yes, but we have no faces, no identities to go on, aside from the list that Kyouhei provided us—a list that he has admitted is not a comprehensive entity, and it should not be considered a crime to disagree with me, should it?" Sesshoumaru countered mildly.  "We will deal with them as the threats arise, and that is as much as we can do."

"And how many will die while you sit back and are content to keep this stance?  Even if you're right, when do you draw the line between what you want to do and what you need to do?"

One eyebrow arched as Sesshoumaru stared at Ben.  Ben didn't look away.  "Do you have a plan that you haven't told us about yet?"

Ben stifled a growl, rubbing his forehead as he struggled for a calm that he just wasn't feeling.  "If you take out the heads . . ."

Sesshoumaru nodded.  "The body will fall."

"Or another bastard'll rise up to take their places," InuYasha growled.

Sesshoumaru shifted his gaze to his half-brother and back again.  "Or that."

"I'm with Ben," Ryomaru grumbled.  "Let's just go in there and knock 'em all the fuck down . . . They wanna know what wrath is?  Then I'll show 'em my fucking wrath . . ."

Toga sighed.  "Which is exactly why we didn't send you in, Ryo," he pointed out.  "Between you and Yasha-oji-chan . . ."

"Keep talking, pup," InuYasha grumbled, casting the tai-youkai a dark look.

Toga chuckled at the warning implicit in his uncle's demeanor before turning his attention back to Ben once more and shrugging.  "It's all just a game of wait and see right now, Ben, and unfortunately, it's the best we can do at the moment."

Ben stood up, headed for the door.  Sesshoumaru's voice stopped him.  "Where are you going?"

Managing an insincere little smile that was more akin to a grimace, Ben offered Sesshoumaru a curt bow.  "I'm going to go wait," he replied.

The room was cold, damp, illuminated only by a solitary marble brazier in the center of the floor, devoid of anything that might temper the stark emptiness of the barren concrete walls.  Against the far wall was the folded futon.  She sat on the floor in seiza, quietly, calmly.

Hidekea slowly paced the floor before her, the scuff of the zori against the floor, the only sound in the harsh quiet.

Kyouhei stood back, blocking the door, arms crossed over his chest as he observed in silence.

"Tell me, Manami, what are you doing here?  After you swore you would never return—that your people, your homeland—were dead to you?"

As it had been for the last six days since Manami was captured and brought here, she remained impassive.  Her expression was carefully blank, wholly impenetrable, as she stared straight ahead, her eyes giving away nothing.

Every day, Hidekea spent hours, trying to get her to crack, interrogating her from dawn until dusk, and, all the while, she said nothing.

A soft knock sounded on the door, and Kyouhei opened it just far enough to look out.  "Okaa-san," he said.

She blinked slowly at Kyouhei.  "Get out of my way.  Let me speak to your father."

He nodded once and closed the door, then cleared his throat to gain Hidekea's attention.

The look he received for the interruption was not at all pleased.  Kyouhei bowed low at the waist.  "Okaa-san would like a word," he said.

He still didn't look impressed, but he nodded, sparing one last, long glower at the defiant woman before stepping outside when Kyouhei opened the door.  For the first time since she'd been brought in, she shifted her gaze to meet his.  She wanted to say something, but he shook his head slightly.  He didn't think that anyone could hear them if they spoke quietly, but, given that he had no idea just what his parents were discussing, he didn't dare take the chance yet, either.

The door opened again a minute later, and Kyouhei stepped back, hiding his surprise as his mother swept into the hut.  Hidekea followed her inside, but he went no farther as Kyouhei closed the door again.

It was Yukina who strode over to stand before the defiant swan-youkai.  She stared at her for a long moment before leaning down—no small feat for the heavily pregnant woman—lifting a hand to gently cup Manami's cheek.  "You beautiful child," Yukina crooned, her voice soft, gentle, almost sweet, her fingertips tracing the high cheekbone, the perfectly smooth velvet of Manami's face.  "Still so lovely, aren't you?  You haven't changed, not since that day . . ."

Kyouhei blinked, frowned, squelched the urge to step forward, to stop his mother, when Yukina drew her hand back and brought it hard against Manami's cheek—hard enough to snap her head to the side, though she managed to keep her expression and her eyes, carefully blanked as she slowly turned her face forward once more despite the rapidly reddening flesh.

"The day you failed me," Yukina continued, all traces of the prior kindness gone as fast as it had come.  "You . . . You promised me that you would convince Benjiro, didn't you?  That you would ensure that he never left us, and you failed . . . and now, you dare to come back?  You dare to show your face before me?  You little fool!"

Reaching behind Manami's back, she grasped the length of her hair, yanked it hard as she brought her face down within breaths of Manami.  "You will tell me why you're here, Manami-chan . . . or I will repay you tenfold for your failure back then."

When she got no response from the swan, Yukina slapped her once more before letting go and standing up straight again.  "You," she commanded, pointing at Kyouhei, then sweeping her finger toward Manami.  He stepped forward, albeit reluctantly.  "Bind her wrists."

There was no way around his mother's order, not without blowing his cover entirely.  Hidekea tossed a length of rope at his feet, leaving Kyouhei with no other recourse than to comply.  He made quick work of it, looping the rope around her wrists a few times before securing it with a stout knot while Yukina stepped behind Manami and slit her shirt with one elegantly tapered claw.

Kyouhei gritted his teeth as his mother drew a nasty-looking switch from the billowing sleeves of her kimono.  It whistled through the air as Yukina brought it down hard, right across Manami's back.  The swan hissed out a sharp breath but didn't even flinch otherwise.  Yukina smiled, drew a deep, deep breath as she savored the scent of Manami’s freshly-drawn blood—it turned his stomach.  "Let's see which is stronger, Manami-chan: your lips . . . or your back . . ."

And she still held her silence as the lash rained down upon her.

The weak and watery moon was high in the sky when Kyouhei silently stepped out of the shadows near the small building where Manami was being kept.  Hidekea was so confident that she wouldn't try to escape that he hadn't bothered to order anyone to keep watch tonight, relying only on the identilock to keep Manami secured.

Sparing a moment, glancing around, extending his youki to ascertain that no one else was around, he pressed his thumb against the lock.  It released with a soft click that sounded like thunder in Kyouhei's ear.

The brazier had burned itself out, leaving the room in absolute blackness without even the relief of a single window to cut through the murkiness.

He closed the door and made quick work of relighting the still smoldering embers, grimacing when he realized that she still lay on the floor where she'd mercifully passed out after the ungodly beating she'd suffered at the hands of his mother just hours before.

Kneeling beside her as he dug the small earthenware jar of healing ointment out of his sleeve, he cut the rope that still bound her hands as he scowled at the destruction of Manami's back.  The switch Yukina had used must have had some sort of metal or glass embedded into it.  What used to be Manami's skin was a sick and twisted road map of oozing blood and some lacerations deep enough that they were still bleeding freely.  It might well have been kinder to let her stay passed out, and yet, he couldn't do that, either—not after overhearing what Hidekea was planning for tomorrow . . . No, he had to try to get her well enough to move under her own steam, because she couldn't stay here for another day, because if she did . . .

"I was thinking that it could be a bit of sport," Hidekea said over dinner, as casually as if he were discussing the weather.  "A tournament, of sorts . . . It's been a while since Kyouhei has gotten any real exercise."

"She isn't really in any condition to present much of a challenge," Yukina remarked with a smile.  "It would take a week or more to recover from that lashing—if she can withstand the poison."

Hidekea chuckled.  "I will tell that one to leave her alive—barely.  Then we can send her back to her tai-youkai, and he can figure out what to do with her.  Who knows?  Maybe he'll do the noble thing and finish her off—put her out of her misery . . ."

Brushing aside the memory, Kyouhei tried not to disturb her, being as gentle as he possibly could as he started to rub the ointment into her skin, all the while knowing deep down that it wouldn't matter; that the pain she was feeling was only going to be worse before she started to feel any kind of relief.

She hissed in a sharp breath, smothering a harsh cry with her forearm.  Trying to draw away from him, she pushed herself up on her arms, her body quaking as the rent shirt fell down her arms, tangling on the floor.

"I know this hurts," he murmured.  "I'm sorry."

"Kyou . . . Kyouhei . . . san . . ." she gasped out, trying to peer over her shoulder at him, her head lolling a little, almost like she was drunk.

"Listen to me," he said as he quickly but gently continued his task.  More than once, she nearly swooned, but she managed to stay in her amended upright position.  "You have to get out of here tonight," he told her.  "You have to get as far away from here as you possibly can."

She managed to peer over her shoulder at him, her dark blue eyes wide, almost crazed, but she nodded.  "She . . . She poisoned . . . that switch," she rasped out.  "I can . . . can feel it . . ."  No sooner did she get the words out than she retched, but all she brought up was bile since Hidekea, in his infinite wisdom, hadn't seen fit to feed her since she'd been brought in, either.

"I don't have anything for that," he said.  "Okaa-san . . . She creates her own poisons.  No one knows how to mix an antidote for them but her . . . I'm sorry . . ."  setting the ointment aside, he frowned at her.  "Can you move?"

She wiped her lips with the back of her trembling hand.

He shrugged off his haori and gently dropped it over her shoulders.  She sucked in a sharp breath but smiled gratefully at him.  "Knowing okaa-san, it's not a strong poison.  She didn't want it to kill you—at least, not yet—but you have to get out of here now, tonight.  If you don't . . ." He grimaced.  "If you don't, they're going to make me kill you tomorrow."

"Why . . .?  Why are you . . . helping me . . .?"

"Because this is wrong," he said.  "Because what they're doing is wrong . . ."

"Thank you," she said, her voice rasping, weak.

He nodded as he scooped up the ointment and stuck it in her hand.  "In case you need it.  It should help to numb the pain a little."

"It does," she replied as he helped her to stand.  She swayed slightly, but stayed on her feet.

"I'm going back inside.  Get out of here."

She nodded and slowly followed him.  He kept watch while she slipped outside, and blinked when she unfurled her wings that weren't there before.  They looked a little odd—a little bent, twisted—but she must not have thought much of it, and though she seemed a little unsteady, she rose off the ground and disappeared into the night.  Only then did he turn and hurry back into the house, unmindful of the eyes that watched him from the deepest shadows of the night . . .