InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Desperate Hours ( Chapter 53 )

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

Kyouhei opened his eyes and blinked as the bright light of day spilled into his room through the open doorway.  He sat up with a low groan since his body was still protesting movement, which was partially brought on by the constant bed-rest he'd been ordered to endure since Izayoi-sensei's visit two days ago.  He'd brought a small amber bottle of antidote with him—it was the same poison that had been used on Manami-san.  Apparently, Ryomaru had found the whip that his father had used, lying carelessly on the floor in the room where he was kept, and he'd taken it back to be tested along with a vial of Kyouhei's blood.  He was recovering faster than Manami-san was, but that was likely because she'd had to fly to get away, thus moving the poison through her system at a far greater pace.

Even so, it had taken a couple of days for the majority of the lacerations to heal except for the few that had actually torn through his muscles, too, but his back felt much better today, and the trace stiffness could have been caused by the inactivity or the injuries, it was hard to tell, which.

Poison aside, Izayoi-sensei had diagnosed him with two broken ribs and some internal bleeding that should heal up fine since the poison was mostly out of his system.

Tossing the duvet aside, he pushed himself to his feet, grimacing since his ribs still hurt.

"Kyouhei-sama!" Hana gasped as she hurried into the room with a small tray with a glass of water, a dose of the antidote, and an onigiri.  "You shouldn't be up yet!  Let me help you lay back down, and—"

"I'm fine, Hana, and you left clothing out for me, didn't you, which would mean that you expected that I'd be getting up today," he informed her brusquely as he reached for the medicine and downed it quickly.  "I would like a bath, though."

She frowned at him, caught somewhere between wanting to do as he bid her and wanting him to rest some more, he supposed.  "It's not entirely healed," she argued.  "Not all of it, anyway."

"Other than my ribs, I feel fine," he assured her, yanking the haori off the hanger where Hana had put out clothes for him.  "Besides, I need to speak with Ben."

"Ah, Ben-sama and Charity-sama had to go to a meeting in town.  They said they would be back by noon."

Kyouhei nodded.  "Good.  That gives me enough time to have a bath . . ."

She looked like she still wanted to argue with him, but she nodded, too.  "I'll see to it," she grudgingly allowed.

He made a face, dropping the haori he'd picked up since the idea of putting clothes on just wasn't very appealing since his back still felt nastily sticky from whatever salves and ointments Charity had been applying to his rent flesh. It almost made him glad that he couldn't really see it.

The house was eerily quiet.  As he moved through on his way to the bathroom, he frowned.  He hadn't actually stopped to think about it, had he?  But it felt like all the servants were gone with the exception of Hana . . .

"Where is everyone?" he asked, stepping into the room as Hana adjusted the water taps for the tub.  "The servants?"

"Ben-sama dismissed them all.  He thought that it'd be best, given the situation.  He said if you required servants later that you should choose them yourself," she replied.  "But I . . . I wanted to stay."

He smiled a little wanly—maybe not a real, genuine smile, but it was tempered by the affection he felt for her.  "Thank you," he said, carefully pulling her into a hug.  "You can stay as long as you want."

She hugged him back for a moment before letting her arms drop as she waved at the short stool in the middle of the large room.

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head, but stripped off the soiled hakama that he'd worn for more days than he’d care to think about and sat down to allow Hana to scrub him.


"You said you wanted me to sign something?" Ben asked without preamble as he sat down in one of the thickly upholstered chairs opposite the thoroughly modern glass and steel desk in the office of JH Hashimoto, attorney-at-law.  

Hashimoto, a short, squat koi-youkai with bright orange and black hair and rather bulbous eyes, pasted on a very tepid smile.  "Yes, it's regarding your father's estate—though, to be honest, he never mentioned having another son who would be Kyouhei-sama's senior . . ."

"That doesn't really surprise me.  We weren't exactly what you'd call, 'close'," Ben remarked dryly.  "What is all of this about?"

Hashimoto frowned over the document in his hands.  "As Muira-sama never mentioned you, he did not name you in his will, either, and has, as per tradition, left the entirety of his estate to Kyouhei-sama.  However, according to, 'Our Laws', as the eldest, you have the right to contest the will on those grounds, should you wish to lay claim to Muira-sama's legacy—a legacy, I should mention, that is quite vast, both in wealth as well as in amassed assets."

Ben shook his head.  "Chichiue meant for Kyouhei to have it.  I will not interfere."

Hashimoto nodded slowly, and his demeanor seemed to warm a few degrees.  "I see . . . In that case, I've taken the liberty of preparing this document . . ." He stood and handed it over.  Ben scanned through it thoughtfully.

It was a formal letter of intent to quit claim, which basically just stated that he claimed no right to the estate in any form in perpetuity.  Attached was a list of their father's assets, and the lawyer wasn't exaggerating when he said that it was quite an extensive estate.  It didn't matter, anyway.  Ben had more than enough money on his own that he didn't need it, and, given the situation, it would have felt more like blood money than anything . . . As far as he was concerned, Kyouhei was entitled to it, having spent his entire life under their thumbs . . . Scrawling his name at the bottom of the last page, he handed it back.  "If that's it . . .?"

The lawyer held up a hand to stop Ben's hasty departure.  "I was filling out the form to file for Muira-sama's death certificate, but you were a bit vague when you contacted me," he said.  "What should I fill in for the cause of death?"

Ben frowned.  He'd found the documents among their father's files and had called the lawyer just to let him know that Hidekea had died and that Kyouhei would need access to the funds so that he could continue to keep up with accounts, especially since Yukina was due to give birth at any time.  "We're not entirely sure," Ben said, figuring that there was a good chance that the attorney really didn’t know the extent of his parents’ perfidy, and also figuring that the ones that mattered already were well aware of the situation, so this was just a formality, anyway.

Hashimoto considered that, but finally nodded and stood.  "I'm so sorry for your family's loss.  Muira-sama was truly a great man," he said, offering Ben a low bow.  "I should be able to have everything disbursed into Kyouhei-sama's name by the end of the week.  There are some things that Kyouhei-sama needs to sign, but nothing dire, and I can get things on this end without them."

"Thank you," Ben said, bowing to the lawyer before leaving the office.  Charity stood and hurried over to him with a compassionate smile.

"Is everything all right?" she asked when he remained silent.

He opened her car door for her before hurrying around to get in the driver's side.  "Yeah," he said with a shrug and a weary sigh.  "I just had to sign a form, relinquishing my right to claim chichiue's estate.  Kyouhei can have the whole damn thing, as far as I’m concerned.  How are the girls?"

She nodded, digging the list of herbs she was running short on out of her pocket.  "Mama said that they're being as good as gold," she said then sighed.  "I miss them."

"Me, too," Ben said.  "We'll go back as soon as Kyouhei's healed enough."

"We can stay as long as necessary," she assured him, casting him a brilliant smile that he tried to return, but failed.  "Your brother's important to me, too."


InuYasha stood and stretched as Kyouhei strode toward the prison building.  "Been quiet in there all damn day," he grumbled, jamming Tetsusaiga through his waistband since he'd taken to wearing his fire-rat clothing since they'd arrived and after the threats had been dealt with so that Charity could wear her own clothes safely.  "If you're going to watch her for a while, I'll go check the grounds.  Ryo should be back soon."

"Thank you," Kyouhei replied, bowing in deference to the hanyou, who snorted loudly and rolled his eyes as he stomped away toward the surrounding trees.

It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts.  It was the first time he'd be seeing her since before the episode in the basement—since before his father's death.  Even so, the decent part of him couldn't just ignore her.  Staring at the currently-disabled ofuda lock for a thoughtful moment, he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly before he reached for the handle and turned it.

The room was as he remembered, with the notable exception being his parents' bed that now occupied the majority of the floor.  The brazier had been affixed to the wall near the door and was lit.  The heavy scrape of chains drew his attention, and he frowned as he stared at the shackles around his mother's slim ankles, around her wrists.  Those were on long enough chains that they were secured high up above to the ceiling to a wicked looking metal loop that seemed to be heavily embedded in the thick rafters.  Her chains weren't nearly as thick as the ones that his father had used on him, and these were long enough to allow her a good deal of movement.

"Ofuda!" she hissed, glowering at the irons around her wrists.  "Damn them all!  May they burn in everlasting hell!"

"Okaa-san," he greeted warily, lingering near the doorway that he'd left open to allow fresh air to enter.

She didn't turn to look at him, didn't acknowledge him in any way.  He frowned as he stared at her back.  Her hair seemed a little duller, her shoulders a little narrower . . . It could be all in his head, of course.  Still, he had to wonder just how much of the process had already gotten hold of her.

"How is the baby?"

She stopped, slowly turning her head to glower over her shoulder at him.  "Why am I a prisoner in my own home?" she demanded, ignoring his question entirely.  "I am going to die, anyway, no thanks to that miserable brother of yours!  Can I not be afforded even a modicum of my dignity?"

"It's out of my hands, okaa-san," he told her with a shake of his head.  "You're not the victim here," he pointed out calmly.  "You willfully attacked a hunter in the employ of the Inu no Taisho . . . Did you think that there wouldn’t be reprisals?"

"I don't want to die here, in this pifitul room!" she blasted, blue eyes sparking, igniting with an inner fire fueled, no doubt, by rage.  "The least you can do is grant me this!  I am your mother!"

"I'm sorry," he said, frowning as he realized that some part of him really was sorry—maybe not sorry for the current circumstance, but sorry on a more profound level—sorry that it had all come to this . . .

"Don't tell me that you're sorry!" she spat.  "Look at me!  I am not even afforded the kindness of real clothing!  I'm kept here like an animal!  Like a criminal!"

"I'll have Hana fetch you a change of clothes," he told her, ignoring the criminal comment since she was, in fact, exactly that.

"Hana!" she scoffed, trying to flick her wrist despite the shackles that bound her.  "You will keep your whore away from me!  That bastard of a brother of yours dismissed my servants and keeps the clumsiest one of them all!  My Nao!  Bring me my Nao!"

Kyouhei shook his head.  Nao was her mother's maid—perhaps the only servant that she fully trusted, and the woman was as warped as Yukina . . . He'd caught her more than once, bullying the other women, trying to bully some of the men, as well, beating stray dogs that had the gall to approach the compound, shooting arrows at birds that dared to light in the courtyard . . . Yukina had mentioned before that she was going to leave Nao in charge of the new baby—something that Kyouhei had nearly scoffed at out loud.  She was a truly vile person, in Kyouhei's estimation, and the last one he would allow back into his home . . .

"She won't be returning," Kyouhei told her.  "If you need anything, Hana will be more than willing to assist you."

"I don't want that foolish hussy anywhere near me," she spat.  From his vantage point, it struck him, just how childish his mother was being, but he kept his own council on the matter.  “The only reason she remained here as long as she has is because she warms your bed, you miserable, perfidious bastard . . .”

"If you would like, I can arrange for you to have a bath," he offered, letting her diatribe pass, umarked.  After all, it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it all, both about himself as well as her opinion of Hana, too, and at this point . . . Well, he was used to that, too.

"You wretched, ungrateful child!" she scoffed.  "I should have killed you when you were born!  I saw the weakness in you then, but I thought . . . I thought I could break you of it.  I should have known that I was wrong, that you'd never be anything but a disappointment."

Her tirade rolled off of him like rain, probably because he'd heard it all before in one form or another.  "I apologize for that, okaa-san," he said, his voice steady, calm.

"Did you feed him lies, Kyouhei?  What did you tell your brother to make him turn on us?" she demanded.

"You give me far too much credit," he replied.  "I told him nothing but truth."

"I hope you die a thousand deaths, you evil child!  I should have cut you from my womb the moment you were conceived.  I should have thrown you into the ocean to drown while your body was ripped apart and devoured by all manner of vile things!"

He heaved a sigh, struggled for a calm, for a distance of the mind, that he simply did not feel, tried to let her words wash away like the tides.  It didn't work.

She wasn’t done.  Drawing herself up proudly, she narrowed her eyes—eyes so much like his own—the flush of her righteous indignation, riding high in her cheeks.  “You brought shame upon us all!  Because of you, your father is dead!  Because of you, I will die, too!  Because of you, this entire family will suffer, and you?  Damn you!  Curse you!  Rot you, a hundred thousand times!”

Staring at her for a long, long moment, Kyouhei nodded slowly, bending at the waist, bowing formally, holding the position, glaring at the humble floor.  “Gomeiwaku okakeshite moushiwake gozaimasen.”

Hana knocked on the door frame, and Kyouhei finally stood up straight and glanced back at her.  She held a tray of food, and he stepped aside to allow her to enter.  She said nothing as she set the tray on the small table near the bed, bowing low as she backed away toward the door.  Kyouhei stopped her.  "Okaa-san would like a change of clothing," he told her.  "Would you fetch it for her?"

Hana nodded and hurried out of the room, the scuffling sounds of her shoes fading as she dashed away.

"I don't have keys for those," he said, gesturing at her shackles.  "I'll ask InuYasha-san or Ryomaru-san to remove them so you can change."

She lifted her chin a notch.  "You tell them to leave them off," she insisted.  "I do not require them."

Hana ducked back into the room, carrying one of Yukina's elaborate kimonos that she carefully arranged on the bed.  "Won't you eat, Yukina-sama?" she asked, gesturing at the untouched tray of food.

Yukina narrowed her gaze on the servant.  "I did not give you leave to speak to me, girl!" she hissed.  "Undercooked rice, a burnt omelet, and watered-down miso?  Let me guess: you made this slop?  You're as useless as your mother was clumsy!  If I weren't confined, I'd beat the life out of you, too!"

"Okaa-san—"

"Wh-What?" Hana whispered, eyes wide as she stared incredulously at Yukina—as the blood drained out of Hana’s face.  "What?"

"Are you stupid, too, girl?" Yukina went on, flicking the food tray off onto the stone floor.  "An accident?  Please!  Your mother was the only accident around here!  Clumsy till the day she died—I cannot count how many things she broke, and then, she always cried, always begged me not to release her.  After all, how would she feed and clothe her worthless daughter if she lost her job?"  Narrowing her eyes as a triumphant little smile that was entirely full of malice twisted her lips, Yukina drew herself up proudly.  "I told her that the next time she broke anything that I'd kill her myself, and a week later, she breaks that priceless vase.  It had to be done, you stupid child!  What value does a servant have if they aren't worth the items that they destroy?"

"Okaa-san!" Kyouhei snarled, temper finally breaking despite his best efforts not to let that happen.  "That's enough!"

“All while you stood there—while you cowered and cried, all for a poor, stupid servant!  Too soft by half!” Yukina gloated, turning her wicked and smug smile upon Kyouhei.

"You . . . You knew?" Hana whispered, glancing at Kyouhei before shifting her gaze back to Yukina once more, but the hurt, the betrayal in her eyes, was enough to make him look away.

"I told your mother that you were no good," Yukina went on, her voice dropping to a low purr as she grinned maliciously at Hana.  "I told her to drown you in the pond, but she couldn't—wouldn't—do it . . . And I let you live because I thought that you might be able to use those few skills you do have to lure that worthless son into your bed, to keep him here because you needed him, didn’t you?  Or do you think I don't know how often you crept into his room, spread your filthy legs for him?  Rutted with him in the dark, you two insipid creatures!  Did you think that he would one day make you his mate?  That you would somehow be elevated beyond your station?  You stupid, pathetic whore!  As if we would let that happen!  As if we would allow it!  You're nothing but a servant, Hana, just like your mother—and a good fuck is all you'll ever be!"

Kyouhei started forward as the rising anguish in Hana's youki shifted into something far worse.  He meant to step between them, to get Hana out of there before she came completely undone.  In a flash of movement, Hana turned, whipped a senbon out of her hair, flicked it with her fingertips.  It struck Kyouhei in the side of the neck, and he dropped to the floor, unable to move, unable to speak, barely able to breathe, unable to do anything but watch.

Bound as she was by the ofuda-laced shackles, Yukina couldn’t fight her off as Hana launched herself at the heavily pregnant woman, clawing her face, gouging her eyes, ripping her flesh with her claws.  Yukina's screams were horrifying and terrible as Hana bore her to the ground.  The sickening thud of Yukina's head, hitting the side of the table drew bile, and Kyouhei nearly choked on it, helpless to move, helpless to do a thing but to watch as Hana grabbed Yukina’s head, as she smashed it down onto the floor, against the unforgiving stone, over and over again.

Hana mauled Yukina like a wild animal, her rage, pushing her well past anything even remotely resembling a person.  Shredding Yukina's skin when she raised her arms to try to defend herself, gouging deep into the flesh of her biceps, her forearms, her legs, her chest, her belly . . . And blood—Yukina’s blood—sprayed out, falling like rain, misting Kyouhei’s face, splashed onto the walls, the bed, the table as Hana was reduced to animalistic little growls and grunts and whines . . .

The sudden thud of fast footsteps reverberated through the stones beneath him.  "What the fuck?"  A blur of crimson and silver as InuYasha grabbed Hana, yanked her away as the woman kicked and growled and slashed at him, too, intent on getting back to Yukina, to finish what she'd started.

A quick prickle as the senbon was pulled out and tossed aside, Kyouhei gasped as Ryomaru pulled him up by the armpits before hurriedly stepping over him to check on Yukina.

"I'll kill you!  I'll kill you!  Let go of me!  I want to kill her!  She killed my mother!  She—"

Hana's tirade was cut off by a swift, sure punch to the gut that knocked her out cold.  InuYasha heaved a sigh and dragged Hana outside, yanking a pair of youkai handcuffs out of his sleeve to secure her.

Kyouhei pushed himself to his feet, staggered over to shove Ryomaru out of the way as he crumpled to his knees beside his mother.  She said nothing—she couldn't.  Hana had managed to crush her windpipe, and in those moments, he knew.  She was fading fast, her one good eye glaring at him in silent accusation.

"Kyouhei . . ." Ryomaru said.

He nodded, understanding exactly what the hanyou was saying.  His mother was dying—she'd be dead in minutes, and if he didn't act fast, the unborn child would be lost with her, too . . .

Closing his eyes for just a moment as he hesitantly touched Yukina's stomach, he drew a deep breath to steady his shaking hands.  He had no choice.  There was no choice.  The infant . . . The infant . . . Steeling his resolve, refusing to look at his mother’s face again, Kyouhei swallowed hard once, twice . . .

And then, he cut her open.