InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Normalcy ( Chapter 58 )

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

"There are decent, God-fearing people in this house, Ben Philips, and you still insist upon sitting here at the breakfast table in nothing but your towel, proving once and for all that you don't have a soul, you thoughtless bit of howdy-do," Eddie grumbled as she flipped over a row of pancakes on the industrial-sized griddle built into the hulking stovetop.

"Have I told you how lovely you look this morning, Eddie?" he countered pleasantly, flashing her a bright grin. "You're positively glowing, actually . . . New skin cream?"

"Zip it," she growled, cheeks pinking as she turned her back on him, busying herself as she diced up a few apples to send through the juicer for the girls, who were just getting started on fresh juices and easy to digest baby foods.

"Ben!" Charity mouthed, telegraphing him a marked scowl and a shake of her head.

Ben's grin widened since he'd seen the reason for the spring in Eddie's step lately, in the form of John Martin, who, it seemed, had decided that Maine sounded like a great place to live, too . . . The old guy was trying to sneak out of Eddie's cottage without drawing notice last week, just after they'd gotten back from Japan, and it was a complete fluke that Ben had seen him, in the first place.  He hadn't told Eddie that he knew, however, but there was a good chance she'd figured it out.

He chuckled.  "So, what's on the agenda for the day, Cherry?" he asked, letting go of the teasing of the maid—for now.

"Today?  Oh, final dress fittings—barring any last minute alterations, that is—and lunch with the girls and Mama."

"Just the girls and your mother?"

She nodded.  "I don't think that a thousand youkai could drag Mamoruzen there, anyway, and Papa said that a girls-day was just what Mama needed to unwind . . ." Her smile dimmed as she slowly shook her head.  "He said that she's been pretty stressed out about everything that's happened, not that I blame her.  She's really worried about Papa . . ."

Ben could understand that.  Given the circumstances, given the worry that everyone had endured, it was hard to believe that the immediate danger seemed to be over, at least, for now.  He had very little doubts that the dissidents would rear their ugly heads again in the future, but for now, anyway, no one had stepped up to take Hidekea's place—yet.

Charity drew a deep breath and reached for the fresh cup of coffee as she flipped open the wedding itinerary that Chelsea had already had put together when Charity called to tell her the date.  What Charity had prophesized was true.  The woman really had taken the liberty of planning every last detail, and all she had to do was to call all of the event suppliers with the date of the wedding.  Given the idea that they were, in fact, identical twins and therefore knew each other a little too well, as far as Ben was concerned, but all that had really meant was that Chelsea did know, absolutely, exactly what Charity’s dream wedding would look like had and planned appropriately.  According to Charity, everything was perfect, and there were only a few things that had to be altered, given the abrupt time frame.  "And for you . . . You've got your tux fitting at ten—oji-san is going with you to that—and you need to go out and buy gifts for your side of the wedding party.  If you get gift cards, I may never speak to you again."

"Oh, God!  I have to buy gifts for them, too?" Ben grumbled.

She nodded.  "It's tradition."

"But I don't—” He suddenly grinned.  "You know, darling, you have much better taste than I do . . . Maybe you should pick out the gifts?  I mean, if you leave it up to me . . ."

"Nice try, Benjamin," she countered dryly.  "Just . . . buy them all nice bottles of booze or something," she suggested.  "Fast and easy, right?"

"Booze . . . Hmm . . . I could do that."

She nodded and stuck her nose back into the planner once more.  "And don't forget—tomorrow night is the party—the official beginning of the festivities."

He made a face as he bent down to retrieve Nadia's spoon.  "What happened to the old days where you'd send out invitations, and they'd just show up on the day of the wedding?  Or the older days when you did the thing then sent out notices via pony express . . ."

"It comes with being a part of a very large family," Sierra remarked as she wandered into the kitchen.  “And you don’t have any horses.”

"I always thought it was a little fussy myself, but what are you gonna do?" Toga said, following his mate.  He stopped short, raising an eyebrow at Ben's choice of morning attire.  "Really, Ben?  Really?"

"See, Toga?  I knew we should have brought your towel along," Sierra deadpanned.

He rolled his eyes, but blushed.  "That's just not funny, Sie."

She giggled.  "It should be a thing.  It really, really should."

He snorted and kissed the babies before slipping into one of the vacant chairs.

"Oh, I don't know, Papa . . . I mean, you're a hot guy, objectively speaking.  Bet you could give ol' Ben a run for his money," Chelsea remarked as she breezed into the kitchen in her satin bath robe that barely reached mid-thigh with her wet hair caught up in a fluffy white towel.  “You want to borrow this one when I’m done?” she quipped, pointing at her head.

“It’s bad form to give your father an aneurism,” Toga shot back dryly.

"Since when has my comfort in my own home become some lurid peep show, I'd like to know," Ben said, shaking out the newspaper and opting to hide behind it.

"I'm just saying that if you've got it, it's fine to flaunt it, Benny-boy," Chelsea added.

"Chelsea, you're going to make him change his mind about marrying into the family," Sierra said.

"Oh, don't think that's possible since it's all done but the crying," Chelsea quipped.

Ben snorted but remained silent, mostly because Toga had given him the tai-youkai version of 'The Look' about the second he'd walked through the doorway and gotten a good smell of the two of them.  Then they'd gone ahead and had Kichiro oversee the marking yesterday, which had actually gone pretty well.  The rest of them had taken to telling Ben horror stories about passing out, nearly passing out, throwing up, and other embarrassing things, just to give him a ration of grief, he supposed.  But Ben had been more than happy to listen to the good doctor and drank the ridiculous amounts of juice, among other things, and Kichiro had managed to procure the necessary equipment to do it at the house, so it wasn't such a big deal.

Charity laughed, idly rubbing the back of her neck where he'd marked her.  "Welcome to the family, Ben," she told him.  The doorbell rang, and Ben got up to answer it since Eddie was still busy, making breakfast.

"Don't forget those gifts for your best man and groomsmen," Chelsea reminded him as she reached for a fresh croissant in the center of the table basket.

He heaved a sigh since he'd already been through that whole discussion with Charity.  The truth of it was, he was feeling sorely outnumbered at the moment.  A few more to add to his side of things wouldn't be entirely amiss, in his opinion . . .

Ben yanked the door open and stepped back, a broad grin surfacing on his features.  "Good, good . . . Reinforcements," he remarked, allowing Kyouhei, with Kells in his arms, to step over the threshold.  "I didn't know you were coming today . . . I thought that you weren't flying in till later in the week."

Kyouhei managed a tired smile.  "Yes, well, that was the plan, but . . . Japan's a little . . . different these days."

Frowning at his brother's somewhat cryptic statement, Ben reached for Kells.  "Damn, he's grown," he said with a smile.  Kells didn't cry as he stared rather solemnly at his oldest brother.  "And damned if he doesn't look more and more like you every day."

Kyouhei rolled his eyes as he set the diaper bag on the nearby table.  "What the hell are you wearing . . . and why?"

"It's a towel," Ben deadpanned.  "Surely you have one or two in your possession?  You use them to dry off after your shower, and I use them because there's no point in putting clothes on, first thing in the morning when you're all clumsy from sleeping and would end up wearing parts of your breakfast, thus facilitating the need to change clothes again within the hour, so you could say I'm just cutting out the middle man, so to speak.

Kyouhei snorted.  "So, basically, you're saying that you've gotten this all thought out, which means that, at some point, someone else has given you a ration of grief over it."

Ben shrugged.  "Something like that . . . How was your flight?"

"It was fine," he said, rubbing his forehead in a distracted kind of way.  "Nii-san . . . When you've got a minute, I'd like to talk to you.  It's, uh . . . It's pretty important."

He stopped short, shot his brother a long look.  Something about the way that Kyouhei was standing there, scowling at the wall off to the side . . . "Okay," he agreed.  "I have a tux fitting in a little while, but I'll be free after that."

Kyouhei nodded.  "That's fine.  It's nothing bad or anything . . . Anyway, thanks, for wanting us to be here for your wedding; for asking me to be a part of it."

Ben raised his eyebrows.  "You think I wouldn't?"

Kyouhei forced a smile.  "Sometimes, I don't know what to think . . ."


Cassidy Inutaisho laughed softly as she held Emmeline on her lap in the back yard of Ben and Charity's house on the shore.  They'd opted to just come back here, to have lunch and hang out for a while since it'd been some time since all of them were at the same place at the same time.  Eddie had made a vast array of very cute little tea sandwiches, along with a few different light salads and a huge platter of fruit and ham and cheeses that they'd continued to snack on for the better portion of the afternoon.

"They're adorable, Charity . . . You realize that you're going to have to chase the boys away from them when they get older, don't you?" Cassidy remarked while Emmeline chewed on the teddy bear that her father had given her a few months ago.  It was her favorite toy and was looking pretty rough around the edges, given that the baby loved to chew on him regularly.

"Ben's working on that already," Charity admitted.  "We played the promise game?  You know, the one that you and Dad used to play with us?  You should have heard the ridiculous stuff he promised . . ."

Sierra laughed.  "Is that right?  Let me guess: locking them in a tower until they were at least two hundred?"

Charity wrinkled her nose and popped a grape into her mouth.  "Oh, he promised to bug their phones, put tracking devices in their purses . . . That sort of thing."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Sierra remarked.  "Your dad said some pretty stupid stuff, too—something about cutting off the genitals of anyone who would hurt you.  Funny, too, because I'm pretty sure that the kid you dated in your first year of high school still has his balls . . ."

Cassidy made a face.  "Ugh . . . Why is this family so blood-thirsty?"

"I hear you did well, fighting against the girls' biological family," Coral remarked without glancing up from her phone as she fired off a text to her assistant, no doubt.  She looked up, her usually stoic countenance touched ever-so-slightly by a very vague smile.  "Good job, baby sister."

"You didn't scar or anything, did you?" Cassidy asked, reaching over to grasp Charity's arm.  "They said you got hurt a little, too . . ."

Charity rolled her eyes but pushed up her sleeve so that Cassidy could inspect her.  "Good," she decided, satisfied that Charity hadn't suffered any lasting physical imprints from her fight.  "You always did have the best skin of all of us.  It'd have been a shame if it was marred."

"We have identical skin," Chelsea said.  "Identical twins, identical skin . . . Do you think ol' Ben would notice if we traded places?"

Charity snorted.  "Given that we're mated and I smell more like him now?  I would hope so."

Chelsea laughed and planted a loud kiss on Nadia's cheek before holding her out to Coral, who leaned back and held up her hands.  "Oh, as cute as they are, I do not do tiny youkai—or even smallish youkai, come to think of it . . ."

"Oh, kami, you're so much like Mamoruzen that it borders on disgusting," Chelsea scoffed as Sierra took the baby.  "Or I guess it'd be more accurate to say that he's like you . . ."

Coral rolled her eyes, brushing an errant tendril of raven hair that had escaped the sensible chignon she wore, back out of her face.  "Not everyone is interested in finding their mate, in starting a family," she pointed out.  "I'm very glad that Charity, here, has found hers, and I will, too, one day.  Right now, however, I'm a busy woman, and I don't have the time to mess around with all the other distractions—and I don't see anything wrong with the idea that I'm not particularly interested in children, which is not to say that I don't find the girls to be ridiculously adorable.  I do, absolutely."

Chelsea laughed.  "Well, if you don't want children, then I suggest you stay away from tai-youkai, then, since it's kind of a given that they have to have babies at some point."

Coral didn't look impressed by the warning.

"That's not really an issue, given that most men tend to find nee-san absolutely terrifying," Cassidy pointed out with a wink.

Coral wrinkled her nose.  "Is it my fault that men tend to be a little afraid of a strong woman who knows her worth and knows how to butter her own bread, so to speak?"

"You do what you think is best for you, Coral," Sierra said, rubbing Coral's back as she stepped around her.  "It's your life, and as long as you're happy, then your father and I are happy, too."

"Thank you, Mama," Coral replied.  "That said, here," she went on, pulling two small boxes from her purse.  "They probably can't wear them yet, but . . ."

Charity took the gifts and opened them.  Matching silver bracelets, one with an E, and one with an N worked into the links.  Hopelessly expensive, of course—it was Coral, after all—and stunningly beautiful.  "These are lovely!" she exclaimed.

Coral brushed aside the praise.  "It's for the rest of us," she commented.  "You and Ben seem to be able to distinguish them from each other, but the rest of us aren't as lucky.  I thought these would help."

Charity hurried over to hug her sister, carefully maneuvering Kells to the side so he didn't get squashed.  "Thank you," she said.  "I'm sure that they'll love these!"

"I had them specially made.  Ojii-sama imbued them with his power, as well . . . They should last forever, and they should also serve to lend the girls added protection since they aren't inu-youkai."

"I'll have to remember to properly thank him."  Her smile faded.  She'd been told that Sesshoumaru would be at the wedding, of course, but that Kagura had thought it best not to attempt the trip since she was fast approaching eight months pregnant.  She'd called earlier just to tell Charity that she was sorry, but that she looked forward to seeing the videos that she'd made Sesshoumaru promise to get.  "I wish that obaa-san could have made it for the wedding . . ."

"Well, we could have postponed until after the baby was born," Sierra mused.  "But your grandmother . . . She insisted that this family needed a happy moment after everything that's happened . . ."

Charity nodded.  The others had been informed, she supposed, about the things that had gone down.  She just wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to talk about it, either . . . "She said she wanted Ben to have the peace he deserves," she remarked.  "He . . . He doesn't talk about it, but I know he still thinks about what he was forced to do . . ."

"That's because he's a good man, Charity," Cassidy said, giving her shoulders a quick squeeze.  "I'm so happy for you!"

Chelsea glanced at her watch and reached for her phone.  "I'll be right back," she said as she started away from the patio table.  "I need to call and confirm a couple things for the wedding, but it'll just take a couple minutes."

"So, tell us about that guy—Kells' father?" Cassidy said.

Charity laughed.  "Oh, Kyouhei-san?  He's not Kells' father.  He's his brother—him and Ben."

Cassidy's eyes rounded, and she blushed.  "Oh, so that's him—the infamous Kyouhei-san . . . I'm so sorry.  I didn't realize . . . I should have, though . . ."

Waving off her apology, Charity sat down and reached for her glass of iced tea.  "It is kind of uncanny, how much they look alike, isn't it?"

"Kells and Kyouhei-san?  Yeah . . ."

"He's very good-looking, Ben-san's brother," Coral remarked as she checked her emails on her phone.  "Very good-looking . . ."

"Hmm, yes, he is," Cassidy agreed, a thoughtful smile surfacing on her features.  It was funny to Charity.  Considering they all shared the same coloring—coloring just like their father—they still managed to look entirely different.  Coral, tall and willowy, standing a good six feet tall, which only added to her already commanding presence overall. . . Cassidy, easily the shortest of them, maybe five-feet-four, with the most delicate features, most like their mother, easily the prettiest of them, and then Chelsea, who looked just like Charity, of course . . . And, of course, Mamoruzen, who was nearly seven feet tall and easily prettier than all of the girls, put together . . .

"You know, I think he might well be prettier than Mamoruzen," Cassidy remarked, giggling softly as she fussed with the baby's skirt.

"Right?  And here, I didn't think that it was even remotely possible, all things considered," Coral added.  "That one . . ."

"He's . . . He's been through a lot recently," Charity said, staring at Kells thoughtfully.  The infant wasn't hollering his little head off anymore, and she could only assume it was because he'd found his security in Kyouhei.  Content to be held as he chewed on his fist, his huge eyes simply took in everything around him as he heaved a contented sigh.  "Sometimes I wonder how he's even able to hold it together."

"It's amazing, what you can do if there's a child involved," Sierra remarked, an almost sad little smile touching her lips, her ageless features.  Even from pictures, Charity had noticed that her mother really hadn't changed much, despite the passage of years since the fateful day that she'd met their father.  "You find a lot of strength that you didn't know you had."


Ben handed Kyouhei a snifter of brandy before settling back in the overstuffed chair caddy corner from where Kyouhei sat on the sofa.  "All right.  Sorry about the delay.  What did you want to speak to me about?"

Kyouhei sighed. "I'm sorry to pull you away from your wedding plans," he said, frowning as he sat forward, elbows on knees, back slumped just a little as he held the snifter between his hands but made no move to drink yet.

"First, I'd much rather talk to you than to worry about the wedding when the women have it well under control already, and you know . . . I've missed you," he admitted, figuring it was all right to say as much.  "So, tell me how things have been going for you?"

The younger youkai shrugged almost offhandedly.  "I already spoke with Sesshoumaru-sama," he said.  "I told him I'd speak with you, but . . . but he's agreed . . . As long as it's all right with you, that is . . ."

"Spoke to him?  About what?"

Taking a long drink from the glass, Kyouhei lowered it, stared at the snifter with a blank sort of frown—a thoughtful expression.  "Everything."

"Okay . . ." Ben drawled, unsure exactly what his brother was considering.

Kyouhei slowly lifted his gaze to meet Ben's, a darkness behind those eyes that hadn't been there before . . . not before the day of Kells' birth . . . But it had been there, lingering in shadows, ever since—and Ben hated it.  "I get . . . looks . . . when I venture into the city.  Anywhere that people know the family, especially the youkai . . . They know, and they . . ." He winced.  "They stop talking when they see me—No, that's not right . . . They stop talking out loud when they see me, and then they whisper, like they think that I can't see them, hear them . . ."  Shaking his head, he shot Ben a long look, full of foreboding, of dread—of anger.  "They don't know exactly what happened, but that doesn't stop them from whispering about it . . . and those who have dealt with otou-san's, 'business' . . . When I closed that down, I canceled orders, and they're angry because they don't have a supplier anymore, but . . ."

"Give it time.  They'll find another bone to chew on," Ben suggested.

Kyouhei shook his head again, this time, a little more vehemently.  "That's just the thing, nii-san.  It won't.  It was too big . . . It'll never stop, and . . . And in the airport—there was a layover in London . . . There was a youkai there—one I recognize from the meetings, but I don't know his name, and he wanted to kill me."

Ben sat up a little straighter, set his glass aside.  "What?  Did he challenge you?  Did he threaten you?"

"No, but he was going to," he replied with a nonchalant shrug.  "They called for boarding, and he had to go or he likely would have, and I could take him, but I had Kells with me, and—"

"And it would have been bad," Ben concluded with a sage nod.  "I got it."

Letting out a deep breath, Kyouhei drained his snifter and stood up to refill it, pausing long enough to take Ben’s empty glass, too.  "So, I've been thinking because . . . I mean, I can take it—all of it.  I don't care what anyone says or thinks, but Kells . . . He's a baby—a child—and if it's this bad, what will his life be like?  Children hear their parents, even if the parents don't think that they're listening, and it poisons them.  All the whispers and the innuendo . . . And I ask myself, just how he's going to have a normal life if this is what's in store for him?  He's the only one without blood on his hands, Ben.  You . . . Me . . . But Kells . . . He shouldn't be punished because of . . . of us."

"I agree."

Kyouhei nodded, bit his lip as he handed Ben his refilled drink and sat back down again.  "I've thought about it long and hard, and that's why I wanted to talk to you.  I mean, you're Kells' brother as much as I am, and I don't want to take that away from you, but . . . But I want to start over again, somewhere where people don't know us—our faces—our name.  I want the legacy of the Muira family to die, to fade into some nightmare that has no names, no faces . . . so, I wondered if it would be okay with you . . . Can we stay with you until we find a place of our own?"

"Of course," Ben blurted, sipping his drink.  "That's a stupid question, Kyouhei."

"I'm . . . I'm not done," he said, swigging the brandy in his hand.  "I . . . I think that it'd be better if I adopted Kells.  There would be a lot less questions for him in the long run."

Ben blinked, a little surprised by Kyouhei's statement.  Even so, he could understand what Kyouhei was getting at, couldn’t he?  It made perfect sense, really.  All of it did.  It bothered him most, though, that Kyouhei had been dealing with all of it alone while he hadn't really stopped to think about it.  If he had, maybe some of those shadows that darkened Kyouhei's gaze . . . "So . . . You're saying that, instead of being Ben-nii-san, I'll be Ben-oji-san?"  He shrugged.  Sure, on the one hand, he was their brother, wanted to be their brother . . . On the other?  Well, as much as he hated to admit it, what Kyouhei said made perfect sense.  If he were raised, knowing that Kyouhei and Ben were his brothers, he would eventually start to ask questions—questions that no child should have to ask, nor to have answered, either.  The bottom line was that it was and should be about Kells, and Ben wouldn't allow himself to put his own thoughts, feelings, ahead of that, not when, really, it wouldn't do anything but to make things harder for Kells in the end.  "I'm okay with that."

Kyouhei looked a little stunned.  "You . . . You are?"

Ben smiled, brushing aside the trace irritation that Kyouhei might have believed in any capacity that he would have argued with him about it, simply on principle.  All he wanted—all he’d ever wanted—was for the two of them to be all right—his brothers—his family . . . "Family is family, Kyouhei.  Brother, uncle . . . It's not really going to make a difference to me.  Believe me when I say that you're both still very important to me—and uncles are far more fun than brothers are, anyway—or so I've been told."

"Nii-san . . ."

Ben waved off Kyouhei's concerns with a flick of his wrist, an easy smile.  "Kells belongs with you, Kyouhei, and I'm all right with that."

The younger man's eyes brightened, jaw twitching as he slowly jerked his head in a nod.  "Thank you."

Ben shook his head, shoving his bangs out of his face.  "Don't thank me.  It's what families do . . . Might I make a suggestion, though?"

"Sure."

"Maybe you should change your name?  You know, a new name for a new life . . ."

"I thought about that," Kyouhei admitted.  "It just feels so . . ."

"It's not really disrespectful," Ben acknowledged.  "Keep Kyouhei as your middle name, if you wish, but . . . It's not just a name.  It's a constant reminder of who you are—who you were.  Just think about it."

Kyouhei scowled at the floor, as though he were looking for answers written there.  "I think . . . I think you might be right," he admitted at length.  "I . . . I told Sesshoumaru that I wanted to change our last name to Philips, by the way."

Ben raised his eyebrows and nodded.  "I like that," he allowed.  That Kyouhei wanted to share the same last name as Ben?  It meant more to him than he wanted to admit . . . "Pick a first name that means something to you, though.  That way, it's a reminder of your future, of why you've done all of this, in the first place."

Rubbing his chin as he lifted the brandy snifter and gazed hard at the swirling amber liquid.  As much thinking as he'd had to do already, and now he had to do more . . . But this time . . . Ben had to wonder if this time, there might well be a positive ending for him in the end.  "A name that . . . means something . . ."