InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Changing ( Chapter 2 )

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

"Tell me once more, Kells, what will you never, ever do again, should I ever, ever take you to the zoo again—which is not going to happen any time soon," Ashur demanded in an even drier-than-normal tone as he set the child on his feet in the quiet foyer of his townhouse.

Kells heaved a sigh and latched onto Ashur's leg.  "But they wanted out!" the boy insisted, his distress very obvious in the heightened brightness of his blue eyes—eyes so much like Ashur's in color, but entirely unlike his in the darkness that tended to linger in Ashur’s gaze.  Kells didn’t have that, and, God willing, he never, ever would.  "They said to let them out! They said they hated the walls!"

"Oh, yeah, that's not going to work," Ashur muttered, arching an eyebrow as Kells' bottom lip started to quiver, as an added luster entered his huge eyes, as the salt of tears hit Ashur full-on a moment later.  "They kicked us out of the zoo," he reminded the child, "and whether the cubs liked their confines or not, you may not—may not—release five cougar cubs into the city."

It was a holding display used to house baby animals before they were ready for life in the regular enclosures, and Ashur had been sidetracked for all of five minutes, fielding a phone call, when Kells had slipped around and unlocked the doors to the thick glass cell.  Within those five minutes, Ashur had turned around, only to find Kells, flat on his back with the five cougar cubs all over him: licking his face, playing with him as though he were one of their own.  It might have been cute on some level, had zoo keepers and zoo security not showed up seconds later, and the commotion that ensued had done more to upset the cubs than being let out of the enclosure had.

Luckily for them, however, one of the keepers was youkai, so he'd managed to talk the head of security down from his initial desire to have Ashur arrested, though he also told Ashur not to come back until Kells was old enough to understand that he must not ever unlock cages or try to breach the built-in security features of the various habitats . . .

Ashur let out a deep breath, shaking his head as he picked up the boy, who settled his head on his shoulder with a tumultuous sigh and with his fingers stuffed into his mouth—something he only did when he perceived that he had displeased Ashur in some way.

"Are you ready for a nap?"

Kells shoved his head up Ashur's chin.  "No," he whined.  "I wanna be wif you."

Ashur sighed.  Just what was he supposed to say to that, especially when things like that tended to trigger memories—memories that Ashur truly hated.  Memories of being left to his own devices, even when he was as small as Kells was now . . .

"Okaa-san!  Okaa-san!"

"Goodness!  Why are you yelling?" Yukina asked, casting him a quelling glance before turning her attention to the ledger she was writing in.

He made a face, shuffling his bare feet against the tatami mat floor.

She sighed—an irritated sound—and she slowly, carefully set the brush aside and turned to face him once more.  "Three is too old to be so noisy.  What do you want?"

"I found a family of birds," he said, his tone low, respectful, the way she always demanded that he spoke to her.

"Well, leave them where you found them.  Birds are dirty and disgusting—and make sure to wash thoroughly before you appear before me again.  You're filthy."

He nodded, the excitement of his discovery, very rapidly dwindling as his mother turned away once more, dismissing him entirely.  Tiny shoulders drooping, he scowled as he gathered the waning edges of his bravado.  "O . . . Okaa-san . . .?"

That sigh again.  "What, child?"

He flinched, his chin dropping, and he slowly stepped back.  "Nothing . . ." he muttered, making a low bow before quietly slipping out of her room once more . . .

The memory faded, and Ashur winced, holding Kells just a little tighter, a little closer.  "All right," he relented, kissing the boy's downy head.  "But you'd better be on your best behavior . . ."

"I be good, Daddy!  I be good!"

"Don't make promises you won't keep," Ashur warned.  "How is it that you can hear the cougars talk, anyway?"

Kells blinked and pushed against Ashur's chest to lean away far enough to stare curiously up at him.  "I don't know!" he exclaimed, tossing his hands up to his sides, palms up, as he shrugged his tiny shoulders.  "I don't know!"

It was odd, that.  Ashur had assumed that Kells was the same as him—an earth-manipulating-youkai—since he bore such an uncanny resemblance to him, but maybe he was wrong.  After all, a panther, as their biological father was, was just a black big cat, really, so maybe Kells actually had inherited the ability to hear and to speak to the cougars from that . . . It was still a little too soon to tell, given that the boy was only two, almost three, years old . . .

The toll of the doorbell interrupted the moment, and Ashur heaved a sigh since he knew well enough, who it was likely to be . . . Curse Charity and her adorable habit of trying to sway his opinion—and curse him for letting her do it . . . That phone call he'd gotten at the zoo . . .

"Hey, Ash," Charity greeted as Ashur glanced over to see what the little dictator was up to.  Peering at the babies inside the various holding cages, he was fine at the moment.

"Hello, Charity.  Is there something I can do for you?"

"Funny you should ask me that," she drawled.  "I was wondering . . . Are you really against the idea of letting Myrna's cousin stay with you for a little while?  At least, until things get straightened out?"

"Yes, I am," he stated flatly.

"But she could help you . . ."

"She's a child.  What would she possibly be able to help me with?"

"And you'd be helping her out at the same time," Charity concluded.

Rubbing his forehead, he snorted indelicately.  "Charity . . ."

"Then won't you do it as a favor for me?" she pleaded.  "She just lost her family . . . and you, better than anyone, can understand that, can't you?"

Heaving a sigh as he shook off the lingering memory, Ashur slowly shook his head.  That, as far as he was concerned, was a pretty low blow, especially coming from Charity.  It was also the reason he'd ultimately agreed to the arrangement.

Taking the couple strides to cross the floor to the front door, he opened it wide, only to come face to face with Myrna . . . and apparently, her cousin.

"Thanks a bunch, Ashur," Myrna remarked as she slipped past him and into the foyer.  "I owe you."

"It's fine," Ashur muttered, stepping back to allow the girl to enter as he frowned at her choice of attire.  Sure, it was a little overcast out, and it was a little cool, especially for this time of year, but it wasn't freezing, by any means, even though the girl seemed to think that it was well below zero.  She wore a dull and scuffed black leather trench coat that looked like it had seen better days and was at least ten sizes too big for her with the hood pulled over her head and a pair of huge sunglasses that covered half of her face, and the only bit of luggage that she had was a good-sized black leather knapsack that she had slung carelessly over one shoulder.  "Does she have more luggage?" he asked, glancing at Myrna as the girl slipped past him and wandered toward a small table against the far wall to examine the jade panther statue arranged on a crisp white cotton doily.

"That's all she's got," Myrna remarked as she flicked her wrist to check her watch.  "I've got to get to the airport, but here," she said, handing him a huge wad of cash.  "Can you take her shopping?  I would, but I’m already running late . . ."

He pinned her with a look designed to let her know exactly how put-upon he was feeling, but took the money and nodded.

"Thanks," she said again before turning her attention to her cousin once more.  "Oh, uh, Ashur, this is Jessamyn O'Shea.  Jessamyn, this is Ashur Philips.  He's going to be your guardian until we get things straightened out . . ."

If the girl heard what Myrna said, she gave no indication.  Myrna shot Ashur an apologetic look as she headed for the door. "I'll call to check on her once I get to Tokyo," she said.

Ashur nodded as Kells dug his hand out of his mouth long enough to wave bye-bye.

The silence that lingered long after Myrna stepped out of the house and closed the door was absolutely deafening, ringing in his ears like the knelling of an invisible bell.  The sadness that emanated from the girl in wave after cloying wave was terrible to behold and even worse to feel, crashing against his youki with a harshness, an abrasiveness, that couldn't be ignored or rebuffed.

'That girl . . . She's not okay; not even slightly,' he thought as he narrowed his gaze on her straight back.  She still stood there, running her index finger over the jade statue, but she retained her stony silence, drawing her youki in now and again like a protective blanket . . .

His sigh broke the quiet, and he purposefully shuffled his feet enough to split it, almost like a physical thing.  "This way," he said, heading for the corridor behind the kitchen that led to the maid's quarters.  Since he didn't employ one, he figured that it'd be best to put her there so that she could retain a semblance of privacy—and so could he.  "I'll show you to your room."

She said nothing as she ducked her chin, as she slowly turned to follow him, her face completely obstructed by the deep hood.  Kells squirmed, pushing himself up higher to see over Ashur's shoulder, peering curiously at the girl that trailed behind them.

He got to the end of the passage, and opened the door, gesturing at the short hallway beyond.  "This is the maid's quarters," he said, stepping back to allow her to pass.  "I don't have one, so you're welcome to stay here.  It's set up like a small apartment, and your bedroom and bathroom are up those stairs . . .  If you want to . . . to put your things away . . . Or you can take a look around.  Otherwise, we can see about getting clothes for you tomorrow.  I'll leave you alone, Jessamyn."

He started to walk away.  Her voice—whispering, cracking, soft, yet somehow sounding so very, very old—stopped him.  "Jessa," she said.   "My . . . My name's Jessa."


Ashur awoke with the strangest feeling, almost as though something were very, very off as he sat up and blinked away the last vestiges of grogginess that always seemed to cling to him for the first few minutes after waking up.

Glancing at the clock, he frowned.  Well after eight in the morning?  How was that possible when, every morning since Kells had learned how to escape the confines of his crib, the boy had crawled into bed with him?  And . . .

And just where was he now?

Tossing back the duvet, Ashur got out of bed to stride out of his room, intent on finding Kells.  He wasn’t worried, exactly.  After all, the townhouse was well and truly childproofed against anything that the tiny tyrant could get into, but . . .

He hadn't quite reached the doorway when Kells darted inside, skidding to a stop just before careening right into Ashur's legs.  "Daddy!" he greeted, sticking his arms straight up in the air as he hopped on the balls of his feet.  "Morning, Daddy!"

"And where have you been?" Ashur asked, arcing an eyebrow at the errant child, scooping Kells up before he turned and headed for the bathroom for their morning shower.

"I sweep wif Jessa," he said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.  "She was cryin'."

The slight irritation that had ignited when Kells said that he had slept with the girl who hadn't emerged from her room since he'd left her there yesterday afternoon died as quickly as it had shot to life.  "She was crying?" he asked, setting Kells on his feet inside the bathroom.

He nodded.  "She said she misses her daddy," Kells replied earnestly, frowning at the idea of having to miss one's father.  Suddenly, though, he perked up.  "You can be Jessa's daddy, too!"

Ashur grunted as he slapped the wall panel and tugged off his sleeping pants.  "Uh, it doesn't really work that way, Kells," he muttered.

Kells hopped into the shower behind Ashur.  "She's really pretty, Daddy," Kells remarked as he squeezed his eyes closed and let Ashur wet down his hair.  "I love her!"

"Well, that didn't take long," Ashur mumbled, helping Kells lather his hair.  It occurred to him that he hadn't actually seen the girl, other than the vague form of her that was lost in the oversized trench coat and hood.  "You can't love someone you just met, you know.  It'd be more like . . . intense fascination—or morbid curiosity."

Kells laughed.  "I morbid-curious her!"

Ashur barked out a terse laugh—something he didn't do very often.  "Something like that," he agreed, tilting back Kells' head to rinse the shampoo out of his hair.

"She said I can sleep wif her any time I wanna," Kells went on quite happily as Ashur handed him his washcloth and pointed at the body wash.

"It's good to know that you've got such a way with the ladies already," Ashur remarked, wetting down his head, too.  "But I thought you liked sleeping with me."

"She smells nice," Kells replied, as though that were reason enough for his blatant defection.  "Is she gonna live wif us forever?"

"Uh, not forever," Ashur said, grimacing when he got a bit of the shampoo in his eye.  "Remember, we're moving soon, too—well, as soon as I find a house for us up there . . ."

"What about Ben and Cherry?  What about Nadi and Emmy?"

"They're moving to Maine, remember?  And we're going to be a few hours away from them . . . or more."

Kells digested that for a moment before turning solemn eyes up at Ashur.  "But we're family, and you said family belongs together!"

Ashur stifled a sigh, wondering how it was that Kells could possibly remember something he'd said months ago, but couldn’t remember something as simple as picking up his Duplo blocks instead of leaving them all over the floor . . . "We'll still be together, and even if you don't see them every day, you can video chat with them whenever you want."

"But what about my birthday?"

"I'm sure we can work something out for that," he said, shutting off the tap and reaching for the towels, handing Kells his favorite Sonny Sunshine printed one.

Kells draped it over his head and yanked the ends back and forth while Ashur wrapped his towel around his waist and nabbed a pair of Sonny Sunshine underpants for Kells and tossed them to him.  He giggled and squirmed his way into them, making faces as he concentrated the whole time since he hadn't bothered to properly dry off first.

"Daddy, can we go to the zoo?"

"Fat chance, Kells, or did you forget what you did there yesterday?"

Kells' face scrunched up in a frown.  "But I'm sorry!" he exclaimed.

Ashur scooped him up and set him on the counter before grabbing his towel and scrubbing briskly at his head to dry him off.  "I know you're sorry, but we're not going back until everyone who works there who would remember us is dead or fired," Ashur vowed as he hung the towel on the rack to dry and reached for Kells' hairbrush.

"I can do it!" Kells insisted, reaching for the brush, only for Ashur to pull it out of his reach.

"Yep, but you never brush the back of it, now do you?  Besides, we've got a few things to do today, okay?"

"Like the zoo?" Kells asked hopefully, pinning Ashur with the big-eyes-look.

"Nice try," Ashur muttered, rolling his eyes as he finished brushing out the back of Kells' hair before handing the brush over so that he could do the front and sides himself.  "Besides, Charity will be here shortly to take Jessa to the store to get some clothes."

"Can I go, too?" he hollered, nearly toppling off the counter top in his excitement.

"We'll see," he said since it was usually easier than to give Kells a straight-out, 'no', even though he didn't figure that toting along the hyperactive tyrant would actually be conducive to shopping for clothes.

It was too late, and with a happy holler, Kells hopped down and bounced right on out of the bathroom.

Ashur heaved a sigh, slowly shaking his head as he watched the tow-headed cub disappear out of sight.  “Get dressed!” he yelled after him, knowing deep down that Kells’ selective hearing was likely to have entirely missed that reminder.  “Preferably in something that matches . . .”

It didn't take him long to brush out his hair, to slap it back in a casual, albeit low-hanging pony tail, nor did it take long for him to pull on a regular pair of black slacks and a billowing white cotton dress shirt—what he considered to be 'everyday' clothes.  Charity had commented before how he tended to dress like a pirate.  He'd ignored her, of course.

Striding out of his room, he headed toward the kitchen, taking the steps two at a time.  He wasn't surprised to see that Kells wasn't in the kitchen, either, and he shook his head when he noticed that the door to the maid's apartment was standing wide open.  After a moment of deliberation, he walked down that short hallway and up the stairs, not stopping until he was standing outside Jessa's door.  He couldn't hear any movement from inside, but he did sense the surge of her youki, so he knocked and stepped back to wait.  When it finally opened, however, he snapped his mouth closed on whatever he had started to say, arching an eyebrow when he noticed that she was still wearing the ungodly trench coat—and she still had the hood pulled up over her head so far that he couldn’t see any of her face unless he bent down, and that would look entirely weird, wouldn’t it?  "Are you cold?" he blurted, since it was the only actual question that came to mind.

The hood shifted as she shook her head.  "N-No," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He let it go, though, since it wouldn't make any sense to pick a fight over her choice of clothing.  "My sister-in-law will be over shortly to take you shopping," he said.  "You've probably got enough time to get something to eat.  There's fruit and stuff down in the kitchen."

"Morning, Jessa!" Kells hollered, dashing up the stairs and latching onto the girl's jeans-clad leg.  "Can I go shopping with you?"

"Come on, Kells," Ashur said, peeling his child off of Jessa's leg and tucking the boy under his arm, not unlike how a football player might carry the game ball.  "They'll get more shopping done without you than they would with you—and I could have sworn that I told you to get dressed, didn’t I?"

"But—"

"Nope," he said in a tone that left no room for discussion on the matter.  He turned and walked away, heading for the stairs and the kitchen beyond.

"Da-a-a-a-addy!" he whined.

Ashur covered Kells' overzealous mouth with his hand and continued along his path.

He was just about to deposit Kells onto his booster seat when the doorbell sounded.  Altering his course, he strode through the house to the front door and pulled the it open, jerking his head to invite Charity inside.

"What are you doing with that baby?" she asked rather dryly, reaching out to take Kells and leaving Ashur on door-duty.  “And where are your clothes, Kells?”

The mighty megalomaniac giggled, which just figured.

"Shutting him up," Ashur replied evenly as he stepped past her and headed for the kitchen once more.

Kells giggled as Charity planted a very loud kiss on his cheek.  "If I get dressed, can I go shopping, too?" he asked, giving his aunt his patented, 'Best-Little-Boy-In-The-World' look.

"I already said no, so it doesn't matter if Charity says yes or not," Ashur said flatly, stopping in the opening to the dining room, draping his hands on his hips as he pinned the boy with a very pointed look.  “And I already told you to get dressed, too, so go do that while I get your breakfast.”

Kells heaved an inconsolable sigh, jutting out his bottom lip in a vain effort to make Ashur feel bad.  It didn't work, but he supposed he could give Kells a few points for trying.

"You're in a mood, aren't you?" Charity asked, setting Kells on his feet and opting to use a pleasant tone despite the concern obvious in her gaze.  She watched the child tear up the stairs, and Ashur shook his head since he wasn’t entirely sure that Kells actually would get dressed, and even if he did, there was about a fifty-fifty chance that the outfit he chose would be entirely mismatched, as well.

He shrugged.  "Same as every day," he replied.

She didn't look like she believed him.

"I'm fine," he told her to stave back any more intrusive questions that he just didn't feel like answering, resuming his trek through the house.

"So, tell me about her?" Charity prompted, opting to let the subject go, much to his relief, following Ashur into the kitchen and hurrying over to fill a sippy cup for Kells.

"Not much to tell," Ashur remarked, dropping a couple slices of bread into the toaster.  "She didn't come out after I showed her to her room last night, and she hasn’t come down yet this morning, either."

"Well, it can't be easy," Charity said, her expression showing her absolute empathy.  "Myrna said her father only died a couple days ago, and when she called to report it, the powers-that-be showed up and forced her out of the house.  They wouldn't even let her pack much more than a single change of clothing, too . . . It's really appalling."

"It was careless, is what it was," Ashur said with a pronounced snort.  "The man knew he was going to die.  It was obvious, right?  He was a fool if he didn't have a will drawn up to protect her.  All of this mess is his own damn fault—and all of it could have been easily avoided, if you ask me."

"No one asked you," the small voice said icily, the lilt of the Irish accent, thick, almost lyrical, despite the outrage that spiked in her youki.  Ashur glanced back over his shoulder, stifling a sigh, since he hadn't actually thought that the girl would venture downstairs until she was forced to.  "Ye don't know anything—not a thing—so, don’ ye dare say anything against my father."

Ashur, however, stubbornly refused to back down.  "Any man who doesn't lift a finger to protect his own however he can is a fool," he stated flatly.  "He's the one who owes you an apology, not me."

"Ashur . . ." Charity murmured, laying a placating hand on his back.

He shot her a dark look, but snapped his mouth closed.

The hanyou woman sighed.  "I'm Charity . . . I'm going to take you shopping as soon as you're ready," she said, inflicting a little more ebullience into her tone than was necessary.

Ashur snorted indelicately as the toast popped up, and he tossed them onto a plate and cut it up into small squares before retrieving the maple syrup out of the refrigerator and drizzling it over the haphazard pile.

"What is that?" Charity asked, shaking her head as she stared at the gloppy mess.

He spared her a cursory glance as he stepped past her with a red plastic fork to set the plate on the table in front of Kells’ booster seat.  "It's French toast," he replied.

Her mouth dropped open, and she blinked for a moment before she managed to snap it closed again.  "That is so not French toast," she scoffed.

Ashur blinked a few times.  “It’s French bread, and I toasted it.”

She opened her mouth, but snapped it closed, likely figuring that it would do her no good to argue with him.  Then she held up her hands in the universal sign of surrender. "You know what?  Forget it."  Turning to the girl, she slipped an arm around her shoulders and maneuvered her back toward the door.  "We're going shopping," she said instead.

Ashur sloshed coffee into a clean mug and grabbed the money he'd left sitting on the counter the night before.  "Here," he said, striding over to stuff it into Charity’s hand.  "Myrna left this, but if you spend more, just let me know how much, and I'll reimburse you."

"Thanks," Charity said, stashing the cash in her pocket.  "Come on—Jessamyn, isn't it?"

The girl shook her head.  "Everyone calls me Jessa," she replied.

Charity smiled, sparing a moment to narrow her eyes at Ashur.  "That's a beautiful name!  Okay, Jessa.  Let's go get you some clothes—and let's also hope that someone finds their manners by the time we get back."