InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Decree ( Chapter 56 )

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

"That . . . is the cutest thing I've ever, ever seen."

Glancing up from where he sat, playing with the girls in the courtyard, he looked at Charity, only find her staring across the yard.  He turned his head to see just what she thought was so 'cute', only to blink and frown when he saw Kyouhei, sitting on the steps with the infant in his lap as he fed the baby a bottle.

Ben snorted.  "I do that kind of thing all the time," he reminded her.  "How come you never said it was cute when I was doing it?"

Charity waved a hand at him.  "They're your daughters.  Of course, you feed them."

"W—? How is that any different?"

She shot him a cursory glance before shifting her attention back to his brothers again.  "Because it's Kyouhei-san," she said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Snapping his mouth closed on his retort, Ben rolled his eyes and shook his head.

'Are you really getting mad because Charity's relieved that Kyouhei's finally decided to rejoin the land of the living?'

'No,' Ben countered with an inward snort.  'I'm irritated because I feed my daughters all the time, and she doesn't go all goofy over me when I do the same things . . .'

His youkai-voice sighed.  'You're utterly hopeless, Ben.  Such a loser . . .'

He ignored that, opting instead to turn his attention back to his daughters once more.

To be fair, he was just as cautiously pleased as Charity was that Kyouhei was snapping out of the funk he'd carried around for so long.  When he'd come into their room last night, Ben hadn't actually known what to think.  He had a strange, almost dazed, nearly crazy glint in his eyes, and when he'd asked Kyouhei if something was wrong, he hadn't answered—almost like he hadn't heard Ben at all . . .

Charity paced the floor, trying to soothe the fussing baby, while Ben sat on the bed with the twins, who were giving their infant uncle puzzled looks.

The shota screen door slid open, and Ben glanced up, only to see Kyouhei in the doorway.  His expression was still entirely blanked, as it had been for days now, and yet, there was an expression in his eyes—as though he were being driven by the very hounds of hell . . . "Kyouhei?  Are you all right?"

He walked straight over to Charity and took the baby without a word, quieting the infant almost instantly as Charity's statement about the boy echoed in Ben's head.

"Oba-chan said that there's nothing at all wrong with him," she told him.  "She said that maybe he's missing your mother—the scent of her that he would have been born knowing—expecting."

'Kyouhei . . . He's always smelled a little more like her . . . like hahaue . . .'

Was that it?  Or was there something more—something more along the lines of what Ben had felt the first time he'd held the twins . . .? Granted, Kyouhei had delivered the babe if he remembered it.  Had the infant bonded with Kyouhei at that time . . .? And maybe that was the real reason why he refused to bond with him or Charity . . .

Kyouhei turned to leave the room without a word.  Charity called after him, stopped him in the doorway.  "Kyouhei-san?  I'll bring a bottle in for him in a little while," she said, her voice thick with emotion.  Ben didn't miss the heightened brightness in her eyes as she quickly blinked to stave back her tears.

"He doesn't want one," Kyouhei replied.  "He's . . . exhausted . . ."

And she'd told Ben half an hour later that when she took a bottle in to him, they were both sleeping soundly on Kyouhei's futon—as far as Ben knew, it was the first time Kyouhei had laid down in the days since their mother's death.

He stood up and walked over to Kyouhei, sitting on the step beside him.  "He likes you," he said, leaning in to get a better look at his baby brother when he wasn't screeching his head off.  He was cute—damn cute, and Ben had to wonder if Kyouhei hadn't looked exactly like him when he was a newborn, too.  The same hair, the same eyes . . . Identical, maybe: just separated by a vast number of years . . .

Kyouhei exhaled quietly.  "His name is Kells," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  Keeping his gaze trained on the infant's face, he gave a little shrug.  "It's a . . . A movie I watched years ago," he went on.  "It was about a boy who helps his master, who's writing the Book of Kells—the secret of turning darkness into . . . into light . . ." Trailing off, Kyouhei shook his head slowly.  "It . . . It just seemed appropriate."

Ben nodded.  "It is," he decided.

“Americans . . . They . . . They give two names, don’t they?” Kyouhei went on, almost absently.

Again, Ben nodded.  “Most of the time, yeah.”

Kyouhei considered that for a moment, then shrugged.  “Kells Satoru . . . That was the name you wanted, right?”

Breaking into a small smile, Ben nodded slowly. Satoru meant ‘understanding’, and, together with Kells . . . Well, it just seemed right . . . “That sounds perfect,” he said.

Letting out a deep breath, not quite a sigh, but not quite not one, either.  "I . . . I think he belongs with you."

"I was thinking," Kyouhei went on.  "Maybe . . . Maybe he's the reason why I'm here.  Maybe . . . Maybe my whole life has been for him—and I just didn't know it until now."

He pondered that.  It was good enough reasoning, he figured.  If it gave Kyouhei purpose, if it gave him a reason to want to stand up in the morning, then it was sound, in Ben's opinion . . .

But Kyouhei wasn’t done.  "I'm going to raise him.  I'm going to give him the life that we never had, nii-san.  He . . . He's going to laugh and play and . . . and know what it feels like to be . . . to be loved."

"I'll help you," Ben told him.  "Anything you need . . . Whatever you need . . . All you have to do is say the word."

Kyouhei sighed, lifting the boy—Kells—to his shoulder.  "I'm not sure I remember how to laugh, nii-san," he admitted.

Ben nodded slowly, thoughtfully.  "Give it time," he told him.  "You'll . . . You'll remember."

Kyouhei shook his head.  "No, I . . . I don't know if I ever really knew how . . . Not to really laugh, anyway . . ."

"Children have a way of bringing that out of you," Ben said.  "Every time they learn something new . . . every time they smile at you . . . You'll see."

Kyouhei nodded as he thought that over.  Then he finally raised his eyes to meet Ben's.  "What . . . What did you do with Hana?"

Ben grimaced since he really didn't know exactly what Kyouhei wanted him to say.  "We've been keeping her in the cell," he said.  "We . . . We thought it was best to leave her fate up to you.  As the new head of the Muira household, it's your decision."

"My decision . . ."

Ben clapped him on the shoulder.  "No one else was here.  No one other than you, InuYasha and Ryomaru witnessed anything, and only you know what really happened since they got there a little late, so . . . So, Sesshoumaru told me to tell you that he will endorse whatever action you choose to take."

"She . . . She was my only friend for a very long time," he admitted.  "But I . . ."

"No one said you have to make your decision right now," Ben told him.  "Just . . . when you feel it's right."


"So, here's where you are," Charity said as she sat beside Ben on the walkaround, staring at the setting sun.  "Making me look for you?"

"Well, nothing wrong with a good chase," Ben allowed.  "And where are my daughters?"

She laughed softly.  "Papa claimed them for the night," she said and shrugged.  "He said that he figures we'll probably be going home soon, so, he needed to hoard some time with them.  How could I say no to that?"

He chuckled and kissed her temple.  "I suppose," he allowed, his gaze roving over the area—the forest, the trees, beyond the courtyard and he high, thick stone wall that surrounded the compound.  "I must admit.  I don't miss Japan at all."

"Is that right?" she countered.  "But it's okay to visit, isn't it?"

"For you?  I suppose," he drawled.  "Besides, I don't know where Kyouhei's mind is, as far as if he'll stay here or not.  I mean, I would guess he might want to.  It's everything that's familiar to him."

"Which might be reason enough for him not to want to," she said.  "Don't worry, Ben.  We'll make sure that you're able to be closer.  I think that's what you want, isn't it?  To be closer to Kyouhei?  And to Kells . . ." She smiled.  "You're finally having a chance to regain your family, and that's priceless, you know?"

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice low, almost touched by a hint of awe.  "Maybe something good came out of this whole mess, after all . . ."

"That's why we didn't name him . . . Maybe we realized deep down that Kyouhei was the one who should do that . . . Kells," she mused once more as she considered what she'd been told.  "From that movie, right?  About the boy apprentice . . ."

Ben nodded.  "Yeah, that's what he said."

She could see how the idea of the movie would have stayed with Kyouhei.  It made sense.  After all the ugliness he'd experienced, it was now his chance to step out into the light, wasn't it?  And that he'd opted to make Kells that light?  It was somehow poetic, somehow beautiful . . . “He . . . He wants to give Kells two names, though: Kells Satoru.”

Charity’s smile widened as a suspect brightness entered her gaze.  “From both of his brothers,” she mused.

Ben chuckled.  “Something like that.”

"It's the best option, isn't it?" she asked quietly.  "I think . . . I think maybe he might need Kells more than Kells needs him, and . . . and that's all right, don't you think?"

Slipping an arm around her waist to pull her closer against his side, Ben nodded again.  "He said . . . He said that he wants to make sure that Kells has the kind of life that we never had . . . I want to help him do that, too."

"Me, too," she agreed.

"And . . . and I want to marry you, Charity Inutaisho . . . I, um . . . I left your ring back home.  I wasn't thinking too clearly when we were packing, but . . . Will you?  Marry this old man?"

Her answer was a brilliant smile that started out somewhere deep down, illuminating her gaze—her entire face—by slow degrees.  Staring at him for a long moment, she yelped and threw her arms around him.  "I will!" she exclaimed, her voice choked by laughter, by tears.  "I absolutely will!"

He laughed and held her close.  "I must warn you, though: I am not so good at planning things, so the wedding's on you.  Just tell me when and where—and for the love of God, don't make me wait too long."

She laughed, grasping his face in her hands, turning him to face her while she covered him with kisses.


'The world looks . . . the same . . .'

Frowning thoughtfully as he stared out over the familiarity of the land that he'd grown up on, Kyouhei didn't blink, didn't move, leaning in the doorway, staring out at all that was as familiar as the back of his own hand.  Yukina had said once that they'd moved from nearer to Tokyo shortly after Ben had taken off for the New World, and Kyouhei had built a small dynasty here under the guise of a world importing company.  It did very well, of course.  Muira International accounted for much—maybe most—of the family's legendary wealth—that much was absolutely true—and Kyouhei had started and operated the conglomerate, which really didn't mean much more than signing contracts when necessary since he had a board of people who actually took care of the hard part.  He just owned and retained a fifty-one percentage of the company.

That wasn't the real business of the family, though.

He grimaced.  It was true that he never had anything to do with Hidekea's real business—the one that accounted for a significant portion of the money in the Muira coffers.  Ben knew nothing of it, either: not yet, at least.  It wouldn't take much digging to find out more, though, and kami only know what his brother would have to say about it, when he found out.  Even so, Kyouhei might well need Ben's help in disbanding the underground entity.

The long and short of it was that, in order to fill Hidekea's war chest, he'd started up a business even before Kyouhei was born, where he bought and sold youkai as servants.  He owned the contracts from many loan sharks around the world.  If someone borrowed money and couldn't repay it, Hidekea bought out the loans, taking whomever he felt was most suitable from the family for the price of paying off the debts.  He brokered in youkai only, and only sold them into the services of youkai around the globe—the rich ones that tended to exist in very archaic ways—the ones who could afford the price of a life.

Glancing at the infant sleeping soundly on the futon, Kyouhei's frown deepened.  He'd keep the shipping company, of course.  The other one, however . . . He really didn't know how many youkai were currently being kept in the training houses—ten of them, that he was aware of—where the newly initiated servants were trained for the refined homes that they would one day serve.  Dealing with that nightmare was something that Kyouhei was not looking forward at all . . .

'One thing at a time, Kyouhei . . . Just pick one thing and deal with it, then you can think about your next step.'

'One thing at a time . . . Which would be . . .'

He made a face.  He knew damn well what the first thing needed to be.  The problem really was that he simply didn't know what to do about it—about her . . .

He glanced at Kells once more.  The infant was still sleeping—not surprising, given how out of sorts he was.  By all accounts, the boy hadn't slept much since the day he was born.  That he was now was kind of a blessing, of sorts, and, given that he hadn't slept well, Kyouhei figured that he wasn't going to wake up for another couple hours, at least, since he'd just had his bottle not long ago.

Stepping out onto the walkaround, he spotted Ben, talking to Toga, and he deliberately strode over to him.  "Nii-san, I'm going to go talk to Hana," he said.  "Would you mind keeping an ear out for Kells?  He's sleeping, and I think he'll stay that way, but in case he wakes . . ."

Ben nodded.  "Do you want me to come with you?"

Shaking his head, Kyouhei stepped back.  "I . . . I want to talk to her alone," he replied.

Ben didn't look like he wanted to allow it, but he didn't really have a say in the matter, either.  Finally, he nodded.  "If that's what you want."

Kyouhei turned and walked away.

InuYasha stood up as he saw Kyouhei approaching.  Stepping directly into his path, the hanyou gave him a critical look, arms crossed over his chest, scowl in place as his ears twitched atop his head.  "You ready to deal with this?" he asked.

"I don't know if, 'ready' is the right word," he said.  "But yes."

Eyes boring into his for another long second, he nodded and stepped aside.  "Good.  The wench misses me."

"Thank you," he replied, offering InuYasha a low bow.

InuYasha grunted and walked away, leaving Kyouhei, staring at the heavy door.

It wasn't locked.  The ofuda lock was still in place, but Kyouhei had to wonder if they'd actually secured it since his mother's death.  Sparing a moment to gather his thoughts, only to discover that he really couldn't do that, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Forcing back the torrent of memories that assailed him the moment he crossed over the threshold, he glanced at Hana, huddled in the corner with her wrists bound by ofuda-handcuffs, but he couldn't stand to look at her as his gaze skittered away.

"Kyo . . . Kyouhei-sama . . ." she whispered.

The voice he knew so well echoed in his head—a million words, the reverberations of her laughter—and the screams that were cut off way too soon—the gurgling wheeze of a life slipping away . . .

And yet, he realized somewhere in the back of his mind, that the thing that truly bothered him most wasn't what she'd done . . . It was what she'd almost done . . .

"You . . . You almost killed Kells," he said without preamble, his voice gathering strength as the words came out.  "What you did—I can understand the desire for vengeance.  What okaa-san did to your mother was unforgivable, and that's fine.  I . . . I will not punish you for that.  I won't kill you or . . . or turn you over to the authorities . . . But . . ." He closed his eyes for a moment as the image of that pitiful child, still slick with his mother's fluids, as he pulled him free of her womb . . . "You almost killed an infant—a helpless, hapless, unborn baby . . . and I can't . . ." Trailing off as he drew a deep breath, he shook his head.  "I . . . I cannot even look at you," he said.  "I cannot stand the sight of you; not when I get angrier and angrier, every time I think that I could have lost him . . . because of you . . ."

"Kyouhei-sama, I—"

"I want you off these lands within the hour.  Leave word with Ben as to how I can reach you.  I'll give you enough money to start your life over, Hana, but I . . . I never want to see your face, ever again."

The salt in her tears hit him hard, and he winced inwardly.  Outwardly, he gritted his teeth and held up a hand to stop her before she could say anything that would only make things worse, harder, more difficult for him.

And then, he turned and walked away, leaving the door wide open, as he headed back to his room to check on Kells.