InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Chaos ( Chapter 8 )

"There!" Jessa exclaimed softly, proudly displaying the flame that was merrily dancing in the center of her palm.  "Fire."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ashur nodded.  "Good," he said, sounding just a little condescending.  "Now that you can do that, can you throw it?"

She stared at him for a long moment before she drew her hand back and tried to toss the flame.  It sputtered out before it left her palm.  Then she turned to eye him once more.  "Are you joking?" she demanded, looking more and more skeptical by the second.  "Is that really possible?"

He frowned at her like he was trying to decide if she were being serious or not.  "If you were fighting with someone, wouldn't it benefit you more to be able to throw your fire at someone rather than to stand there and hold it till they got close enough for you to burn them?"

She started to tell him that he was being ridiculous, but stopped when a vague memory sparked to life in her head.  That day when the Gardai had showed up to escort her off her parents' property . . . That day, she'd set fire to the officer's cuff, and she wasn't touching him at the time, either . . .

"I . . . I lit a fire," she admitted quietly.  "I don't know how I did it, but I know I did . . ."

"When?"

She shook her head, crossing her arms over her stomach as she pondered it.  "The day they made me leave," she said.  "I set the officer's sleeve on fire, and then I grabbed Da's coat . . ."

He considered that for a moment.  "But you were obviously upset, right?  And that's why you don't know how you did it."

She shot him a chagrined sort of scowl as a handful of dirt went flying past her face, and she blinked.

Kells giggled.  "Look, Daddy!  I frew earf!"

Ashur choked slightly then coughed.  "You promised you'd sit there quietly, Kells," he reminded the child.

Kells giggled some more, dusting off his tiny hands, but hopped back into the chair he'd vacated at the start of the lesson, picking up his handheld Kid-Tab 6000xz to play with the learning games stored on it.

Turning his attention back to her once more, Ashur frowned.  "Why don’t you try concentrating on setting fire to the wood in the pit?" he asked, nodding at the kindling.  "Just stretch your youki . . ."

She pivoted, stared at the wood in the fire pit, careful to keep her mind calm, serene, but it didn't help.  As hard as she tried, nothing happened, and she drew a deep breath, tried to focus on what she wanted to do, to no avail.

She was concentrating so hard that she didn't hear Ashur slip up behind her—didn't know he was there until he spoke in her ear.  "Let go, Jessa," he rumbled softly.  "Don't hold your youki so close to you.  If you let it flow around you, you'll be able to use it, like . . . like how copper can conduct electricity.  Your youki is an extension of you.  If you let it, it can become another sense, like touch or taste or feel . . . You'll sense the intentions of those around you as they come into contact with your youki, and you can use it to create the spark you need for your fire, too . . . Now, relax it . . . and then try . . ."

She did as she was told, trying her best to ignore the feeling of being absolutely vulnerable as her youki spread, haltingly at first, as though it was as reluctant to do so as she was.  Letting her eyes close for a moment, it was like she could feel exactly what he was talking about: the curious brush of his youki, the underlying excitement in Kells' . . . She could feel objects but not in a tactile sense.  No, it was more of an understanding of what and where things were.

Focusing her attention on the feel of the wood in the pit, she willed her youki to spark, concentrated on the idea of a full burn . . .

"Don't get frustrated," Ashur murmured in her ear.  "I can feel the tension rising in you.  Let go of it, Jessa . . . You've almost got it."

With a small gasp, her eyes flashed open just in time to see the kindling ignite in a small flame.  It wasn't big, it wasn't fancy, but it was there, and she smiled.  "Like that . . ." she said, more to herself than to Ashur.

He nodded, his gaze brightening as he watched the flame spread and grow.  "Exactly like that.  If you keep practicing, you'll learn to control the intensity of your fire with ease."

"How old were you when you started training?"

He shrugged and seemed a little surprised by her question.  "I was taught things from the beginning," he said.  "But my true training began when I was Kells' age."

“But he’s so young,” she murmured, frowning slightly as she glanced over at the boy in question.

Ashur seemed a little pensive, a little thoughtful.  “It was a different time and place, Jessa,” he said simply.

"I . . . kind of remember . . . Da . . ." She frowned as the half-forgotten memory surfaced in her mind: her father and the ring of torches . . . "There was an area on the estate—a clearing in the forest—where he used to take me when I was small . . . There were torches . . . Lots of torches, and he would stand in the middle and close his eyes, and he'd light them, all at once . . . I thought it was like magic . . ."

“Magic, huh?”  Somewhere, deep down, she'd thought that he would laugh at her for saying such a fanciful thing.  He didn't, but he did seem mildly amused.  "And he never taught you how to light them?"

She shook her head.  "I think that was around the time that I started taking dance lessons . . . piano lessons . . . dressage . . ."

He looked like he wanted to say something, but he shook his head slowly instead.  "Are you tired?" he asked.  "Take a break."

"I'm fine," she said.  "I can keep practicing."

"Not that, not right now," he told her.  "The longer you practice at a time, the more likely you'll either get frustrated or you'll exhaust yourself mentally.  Best to work on it just a little bit every day."

She nodded, even though she didn't quite agree.  "So, does that mean we're done?"

He shook his head.  "Nope.  It means that you're going to take a break, and then we'll work on your self-defense skills.  I'll meet you in the basement in a few minutes."

She made a face, but headed toward the doors to get a bottle of water.  Kells hopped up to come with her.  "You can make fire!" the boy exclaimed.  "That's co-o-o-ol!"

"Do you think so?" she asked, smiling at the child.

Kells nodded happily.  "And now, you get to frow Daddy around!"

She sighed, yanking open the refrigerator and retrieving a bottle of water.  Kells grabbed his juice cup before she closed the door.

That was the part she didn't like, if she were to be completely honest.  During the first few lessons, he'd taught her how to use an attacker's forward momentum to toss him, and if she'd done it once, she had to have done it a hundred times in the course of the last few days, and, while he didn't complain, she had to wonder, just how okay he was with the idea that she kept tossing him around like a rag doll . . .

Ashur landed flat on his back with a heavy grunt for the fourth time in about ten minutes and hopped back to his feet, ignoring the groaning in his muscles that protested the movement.  "Okay, I think you've got that," he said, ignoring the aches from the physical exertion.  "Let's try something else."

"Daddy!  Can I try to frow you, too?"

“I don’t think you’re big enough yet.”  Waving a hand at Kells, Ashur shook his head.  "I don't suppose you took any kind of martial arts in all those lessons you had."

Jessa shook her head.  "No . . ."

He nodded since he'd already figured as much.  "Okay, tossing someone coming at you is fine, and you've pretty well gotten that down perfectly, but not everyone's going to run at you, either.  In fact, most of them wouldn't unless they're trying to mug you.  The most important thing you need to learn is to always allow your youki to float around you.  Not only does it help in that you can potentially attack faster that way, but it also will help you sense the safety of your surroundings . . . For example, if someone is running up behind you, you'll sense them through your youki well before they reach you, but if you keep your youki close to you like you tend to do most of the time, then you'll have no warning."

A strange sort of expression crossed her face, but was gone before he could read it.  She nodded slowly, and a moment later, her youki brushed over his as she let it out, though it was pretty obvious to him that she didn't actually like doing so.

"Why do you keep it so close?" he asked before he could stop and think about it.

She frowned, pulling a long strand of hair over her shoulder, idly twisting it around her finger, over and over again.  "I feel . . . I-I don't know . . . Naked?"  Shaking her head, she made a face.

"Vulnerable," he concluded.  It made sense, he supposed.  "You're not, though, even if it does feel counterintuitive to you.  That's your first and best defense."

"All right," she replied.

"Anyway, if someone comes directly at you, you throw them, at which point you can and should just get the hell out of there because you won't know if they have a gun or something —humans especially are pretty bad about that.  Youkai usually don't stoop to using those, but there are exceptions, so if you don't know, then it's best to immobilize them and run."

Crossing her arms over her chest since he'd already told her this before, she shrugged.  "Do you run away?"

"I can't say that I ever have, no," he admitted.  "But then, I'm also fully trained, and I know how to fight."

"So, after you're done training me . . ."

"Absolutely not," he stated flatly.  "A young girl that looks like you?  Chances are good that someone who would attack you would be a man, and he'd probably not just be after your purse.  If someone attacks you, you need to run."

She snorted.  "That's entirely sexist."

He didn't look impressed by her sulky reply.  "It's also entirely true."

"I don't know," she mused, leaning her head to the side as she slowly regarded him.  "If that's your logic, then you'd be attacked all the time.  I mean, you're far prettier than I am . . ."

He grunted at her flip response.  "Moving on," he said when Kells giggled.  "The next thing you need to know is that if a man is trying to get too close to you, before he manages it, always remember that no man, human or youkai, is going to be able to chase you if you kick him between the legs."

"Isn't that considered fighting dirty?"

"I'd consider rape to be dirtier," he stated bluntly.

She snapped her mouth closed on whatever she was planning to say as her cheeks lit up in a becoming flush.

Satisfied that he'd made his point, he grunted.  "Anyway, if someone is trying to attack you, and he's near enough, kick him as hard as you can, and then, you run.  If he's coming at you too fast to kick him—" Ashur dashed toward her.  She gasped but only raised her hands to cover her face, and he growled as he grabbed her wrists and forced them down.  "Do not do that," he scolded, letting go of her hands.  Then he sighed.  "Don't block your vision, no matter what.  If someone charges at you like I just did, you snap out your arm."

She looked thoroughly confused, and he rolled his eyes but demonstrated, snapping his arm straight out with his palm raised, fingers curled back.  Then he drew his arm back and tapped the heel of his hand with his fingers.  "This is what you hit with.  Don't try to punch him; you'll only hurt your knuckles, maybe break your fingers.  Don't use your claws because that would leave too many unanswerable questions later on.  When you do this, remember: it's the speed with which you hit that makes it more powerful, and always, always aim for the heart.  Aim past your opponent and lock your elbow when you snap your arm out.  Show me."

She did, and he nodded.  "Now, as you do that, step forward.  Step into the motion.  Again."

She repeated the motion another couple times.

"Good.  Now, draw your hand back, and twist your body so that you have more momentum going into the hit, and then snap it forward . . . Good."

"Like this, Daddy?"

Ashur glanced over and nodded as Kells demonstrated the move.  "Yes, Kells, just like that."

Kells grinned, but suddenly, he frowned.  "Daddy!  Do I kick men in between the legs, too?"

He pressed his lips together in a thin line as Jessa stopped, her arm outstretched, to raise her eyebrows at him.  "No, Kells, you wouldn't do that.  You will know how to fight—and when to fight, too."

She rolled her eyes and snorted.

"Okay," Ashur said, taking a few steps back.  "Try to hit me."

"Wh-What?" she stammered as he ran toward her.  She barely had time to react, but she did manage to snap her arm straight out, whipping her face to the side as she squeezed her eyes closed and uttered a terse squeak.

Ashur frowned at her.  Her arm had bent as he moved forward, so her strike had been rendered completely useless.  "You have to keep your arm extended," he told her, "and don't look away."

She scowled at the perceived scolding, and Ashur shook his head.  "All right, it's too soon.  You can practice on that dummy over there," he said, waving his hand at one of the practice dummies on the other side of the room.  "Just practice till you're comfortable with it," he told her.  "You'll get it."

She still didn't look very pleased, but she nodded once, grasping the top of her ponytail and yanking her hair to tighten it.

"Me, too, Daddy?  Do I need to pwatise?"

Ashur rubbed the boy's hair affectionately and nodded.  "You, too," he said.

Kells ran off happily, following Jessa over to the dummies.

Ashur sighed and slowly shook his head.  Her form was good, and she tended to be light on her feet, no doubt from the years of dance lessons.  All she really needed was some practice and a little self-confidence, but he had a feeling that she'd be able to hold her own sooner rather than later . . .

"Two whiskey shots and two draft Coors Lights, please," Jessa said, leaning on the bar as she waited for the drinks.

Keith, the bartender closest to her, nodded and grabbed two smudgy shot glasses.  Carol and she were having a bet as to whether or not Keith was gay—Carol said he had to be since he tended to always look like he'd just stepped out of the pages of the latest, trendiest fashion magazines.  Jessa was almost positive that he wasn't, and, considering how often she caught him giving her the hard eye, she figured that Carol was going to have to pay up in the form of a new pair of brown suede ankle boots that they'd seen the other night in one of the storefront windows as they were walking home.  The price tag had said four-hundred-fifty bucks.  Jessa thought they were pretty damn hot . . .

"Heard you were offered Friday and Saturdays," he said, slipping the shots onto the tray for her before reaching for a couple of mugs out of the cooler.  "You taking it?"

She shook her head, leaning on her elbows.  "And miss out on being groped by all the drunks?  Are you kidding?"

He laughed.  She didn't miss the way the spiky blonde spared a moment to give her cleavage a good once-over.  At least it didn't make her want to run and hide anymore, so there was that . . . "You know, you've got Faye in quite a snit."

"What's new?" Jessa countered.  "She's always got issues with someone, doesn't she?"

He grinned, showing off the deep dimples in his cheeks.  The ladies that came in seemed to love him, and Jessa figured that it had something to do with that.  He slipped the first beer onto the tray and started filling the second.  "Yeah, well, to hear her tell it, you stole some of her regulars—a few of the bigger tippers, too.  If you slipped them a nip glimpse, bet they'd tip you even more."

"I did no such thing," she insisted despite the smile on her face as she winked at him and grabbed the tray.

Slipping between tables, she was thankful for her youkai vision since the already weak lights suddenly dropped by about half in the room as the colored spotlights flooded the stage, as a raunchy, slow, grinding song blared out over the PA system and one of the girls—Candy—strode out from behind the faded black curtains and started her nurse routine.  Jessa moved over to the table to drop off the drinks.  "Here you go," she said, setting the beers on the table.  "And your shots . . . Can I get you anything else?"

"How about your phone number?"

She smiled and shrugged.  "Sorry.  I don't have a phone," she lied.  It was a convenient enough excuse, especially when most of the regulars knew that the girls had no trouble giving out their digits on a regular basis.

"How about we buy you a drink, sweetie?" the other one said.

"Sorry," she said, her cheeks hurting from the fake smile she tended to use pretty much all night while she was working.  "Not allowed to drink on the clock."

"Well, that's no fun . . . When's your break?"

She shrugged.  "As busy as it is tonight?  I doubt I'll get one."  She stepped back.  "Holler if you need anything else."

She turned to go, heading toward another table of a guy that she recognized.  He usually didn't come in until Thursdays, so he was a little early in the week.  He was a nice enough guy: a little quiet, a little shy, but he was polite, which was refreshing in a place like this, and, even though he seemed a little more on the nerdy side than most of the guys who ventured in here, there was something kind of sweet about him, in a brotherly kind of way.  "Hey, Jimmy.  How's it going?"

"Jessie," he greeted with a grin.  "Just the girl I was hoping to see."

"You want your usual?" she asked.

"Well, I, uh . . ."

Her smile faded as she leaned an elbow on the table and frowned at him.  "Are you okay?"

"Y-Y-Yeah," he blurted, cheeks reddening enough that she could see it, even in the dimmed light of the bar.  "I . . . I have a question for you."

"For me?" she asked, eyebrows lifting in surprise.  "Okay."

He dug into the pocket of his cheap suit jacket—he'd obviously come in straight from the hopelessly boring job he had at a bank, he'd told her before.  She could only blink and stare, eyes wide, as he drew out a velvet ring box and opened it with trembling fingers.  "W-Will you marry me?" he blurted.

She stepped back in retreat as two things occurred to her.  The first thing?  "Oh, uh, I . . . I can't . . . I mean, I'm sorry, but . . . No . . ."  The second?

Gasping out loud as a very strong hand closed around her forearm and yanked her around, she smothered a groan when she came face-to-face with the one person she really would rather not have run into here, of all places . . .

"Put that away, you little bastard," he growled at the poor man who looked like he was ready to cry before turning his attention on her once more.  "And tell me: just what the hell are you doing in a place like this dressed like that, Jessa?" Ashur demanded.