InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Answers ( Chapter 41 )

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

The café was small, quaint, tucked just off the main thoroughfare that traversed Old Quebec.  It was busy, but not as busy as it might have been if it had been more exposed to the heavy foot traffic of the sightseers and visitors to the historic district.  The two had walked here from the stationery store just around the corner when Hana asked if she could spare a moment after picking up an order that she'd come in for, to start with.  Jessa had paid for her things and put them in her car before hesitantly agreeing to have tea with the woman.  Settling in at a table in a quiet corner of the honey wood and shining glass establishment, Jessa made herself order a cup of tea from the waitress that smiled and hovered near to take their orders.

Hana echoed Jessa's order, and the waitress hurried away.

"I thank you for meeting me," Hana said, shaking her head, as though she wasn't exactly sure, just where she ought to start.

"Are you in Canada alone?"

Her question seemed to confuse Hana, who pondered the question carefully.  "Yes, I am . . . alone . . ." she replied.  "Watakana-san is in . . . meeting."

Waving a hand, Jessa licked her lips.  "No, I meant . . . Are you, um . . . visiting Canada alone?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, dark eyes flaring wide.  "Oh, I am with Watakana-san.  He has business with men . . . I fetch gift from store for man's wife . . ."

"I see," Jessa said.  The woman was obviously having trouble with English, and that only served to heighten her curiosity as to what, exactly, Hana would want to talk to her about, in the first place . . .  "So, you're just visiting?"

“Visiting . . . Hai—uh, y-yes,” Hana said.  “You . . . Your . . . Your name?”

Jessa wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to tell the woman her name, though she couldn’t really put into words, why that was.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, her mother’s voice whispered, a gentle reminder that there was power in names, and that, in some situations, it was better to give her title, rather than her actual name.  Still . . . “Jessa,” she finally said.

Hana smiled and bobbed her head in an abbreviated kind of bow—courtesy, Jessa supposed.  “You’re very pretty,” she went on, but somehow, her words seemed almost perfunctory, at least, in Jessa’s ears, they did.  “The . . . The boy?  Um, Kells?  He is . . . He is fine?”

Pausing for a moment as she reached for the tiny pitcher of cream that had been brought along with the tea, Jessa gritted her teeth, hating the sound of the boy’s name, falling so casually from Hana’s lips.  “He’s good,” she heard herself say, and she was proud of the evenness in her tone as she poured the cream into her tea and stirred it slowly.

Hana uttered a quick laugh, almost as though she had expected to be told something entirely different.  "Yes, good!  I did not know he is here," she replied sadly.  "I try speak to him.  He cannot."

It took a moment for Jessa to realize that Hana was talking about Ashur, not Kells, though she figured it had a lot to do with the weak grasp of English that Hana seemed to have.  Still, she couldn’t quite keep the sharpness out of her tone when she replied tightly, "And, what?  You want me to ask him to talk to you?"

"You are . . . You are close?  With Kyouhei-sama?" Hana asked quietly, her eyebrows drawing together in a thoughtful frown, even as she shook her head.

"Kyouhei-sama?" she repeated, shaking her head in confusion.  “Who—?”

Hana grimaced.  "Umm . . . The . . . The man?  At restaurant . . .?"

"Oh . . . Ashur . . . I’m . . . I'm staying with him," Jessa admitted, unsure exactly what she really ought to say.

"Ashur," Hana repeated.  "Yes, he is . . . I know him . . . Kyouhei-sama.  I . . . I work for his family. . . long time."  She made a face.  "Can you speak Japanese?"

"Uh, no," Jessa admitted with a frown.  Ashur hadn't actually said anything about Hana having worked for his family.  All he'd said was that they were, 'friends' . . . "Kyouhei-sama?  Is that his . . . his Japanese name?"

Hana seemed confused by her question, but she slowly nodded.  "Muira Kyouhei—umm, Kyouhei Muira.  He owned, um . . . boat place? Muira International . . ."

"Muira International . . ." Jessa repeated.  She'd heard of that company, hadn't she?  Maybe her father had done some sort of business with them at one point or another.  It was huge; she knew that much.  If he owned that company, then it was no surprise that he had money to indulge in the kinds of things that she knew that he’d bought without even batting an eye.  Even so . . .

Hana sighed, nodding at the waitress as she quietly delivered the tea and slipped away again.  "Kyouhei-sama . . . He is good?  He is fine?"

"Yes, I . . . I suppose," Jessa said.  "But you already asked him, how he is, didn't you?"

Hana grimaced, quickly ducking her head for a moment.  "He sent me away . . . He was . . . How do you say?  He was my, uh, one love?  But he cannot . . ." Shaking her head as she lifted a hand to try to nudge her memory, she sighed.  "—Cannot . . . forget me?"

The delicate cup of tea in Jessa's hand smacked precariously down on the saucer, and she forced herself to let go of it before it ended up, shattered into a million bits and pieces.  It felt as though someone had punched her, square in the chest, as the air whooshed out of her lungs, as she felt the earth spinning out of her control.  Everything she'd thought, everything she'd suspected . . . It was true . . .?  And he . . . He was only biding his time with her, wasn't he?  Messing around with her because she was there, she was willing . . . She was convenient . . . "Your . . . one . . ."

The dark-haired woman nodded adamantly, apparently pleased that she'd finally managed to make Jessa understand.  "Yes, yes, he was boy-friend."

Wincing inwardly, Jessa shook her head, wishing that she could just stand up and leave, that she could just get as far away from Hana—from it all—as she possibly could.  "I . . . I don't understand what you . . . what you want from me . . ."

Hana sighed, frowning in consternation, as though she were having trouble getting what she wanted to say across.  "You are with him?  You . . . You give him joy?"

And she really had no idea just how to respond to that.  A savage ache opened up somewhere deep inside her, and for one horrifying second, she thought that she might just cry.  Biting back the sting of tears, the thickness in her throat with a viciousness that she hadn't realized she possessed, Jessa slowly shook her head.  "I don't . . ."

"You take what you're given, Jessa!  It's your place to accept it—don't question it—and don't ask for more . . ."

Those words . . . Her mother's chiding words . . .

Hana went on, though, as if she hadn't heard Jessa start to speak.  "Yukina-sama kill my mother, so I kill her, but the baby is there, and Kyouhei-sama cannot forget me, and I am sorry . . ."

Jessa wasn't entirely sure, just what Hana was trying to say.  None of it made any sense.  What was she supposed to do, to say?  She had no idea who Hana was talking about—no idea who Yukina-sama was, none of it . . . Everything she thought she'd known turned inside out in her brain, everything she'd been told, seemed like little more than band-aid cures that covered the superficial scratches while completely ignoring the festering cesspool underneath.  The worst of it all?  The nagging ache, the feeling that her heart was going to explode, the hateful sense of an entire world that had spun out of her control, had frazzled and frayed and come completely undone . . .

And worse, she had no real idea, just who Ashur—Kyouhei?—really was, either . . .


Kells hopped out of the car and took off at a dead run to put his things away and to change into play clothes.  The girls were already in the paddock near the barn with Laith, taking turns, riding Humpty Dumpty around in a large circle while Laith held onto the lead.

Jessa gathered her bags and followed the boy to the front door.  "You're gonna come to the parents' night, aren't you, Jessa?" he asked as he waited for her to open the door.  He'd mentioned it last week, but she'd forgotten about it until he'd started talking about it again on the ride home.

"Oh, uh, sure.  If you want me to," she said, ruffling his hair before pushing the door wide open, forcing a smile, just for him.  He'd been talking about it ever since she'd picked him up from preschool.  He'd even made special drawings to show off with the rest of the class for the occasion.

He bounced off, probably to go find his father to remind him of the meet-and-greet later on.  He disappeared down the short hallway that led to Ashur's study, and Jessa's wan smile faded as she moved off to the stairs to put the bags away in her closet since Ashur's birthday wasn't until tomorrow, anyway . . .

Even so, she really didn't know what to make of the entire situation, had no more of an idea, just what to think of the things that Hana had said than she did when she left the café hours ago.  Then she'd spent the rest of the time before picking up Kells, wandering around Old Quebec, drifting into and out of shop after shop, trying to get her mind off of the impromptu meeting without any real luck.

She sighed, closing her closet door and collapsing against it.  The parent-teacher thing started at seven, so she ought to get dinner started before trying to round up Kells to get him cleaned up before then.

Stopping in the boy's room long enough to lay out clean clothes on the bed, she hurried down the stairs and toward the kitchen.

Eddie had left a lasagna in the refrigerator, along with very detailed instructions on how to reheat it for dinner.  She was spending the last couple days with her cousin in Montreal, but not before she'd made a few days' worth of food and labeled them accordingly.

Jessa smiled vaguely as she turned the oven on and slipped the lasagna in to heat.  According to the instructions, there were also a few crusty loaves of bread in the freezer that would have to be heated during the last ten minutes or so.

That done, she ventured outside to spend a little time with Carol before it was time for her to go to work.

"Oh, hello, Jessamyn!  I take it you're not in your happy place?" Carol asked, sticking her head out of the short hallway before ducking back down it again.  "Did you spend all day looking for a present?  Tell me you found something!"

"I did," she said, following Carol down the hallway to her bedroom where she was changing clothes for work.  "I found, uh, Hana . . ."

"Hana . . . Oh, you mean the chick from the restaurant that one time?"

Jessa nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.  "Yes, that's right."

Carol grimaced, pausing as she buttoned the white dress shirt.  "You just randomly ran into her in the store?"

"Something like that," Jessa replied.  "She wanted to go get tea, so I did . . . and now, I rather wished I hadn't . . ."

Biting her lip, Carol shook her head.  "Do you want me to call in?  I can, you know . . . no big deal . . . I mean, if you need me—"

Jessa sighed and quickly flicked a hand.  "No, it's fine," she lied.  "Besides, Kells has parent-teacher night, and he asked me to come along."

"You really love that kid," she said, giving Jessa what could only be described as a commiserating smile.  "If you're sure . . . I'm off tomorrow night—just in time for Ashur's party . . . You can tell me everything then, right?"

"She said that she and Ashur . . . She said he was her . . . 'one love' . . . That he'd never forget her . . ."

Carol snorted.  "That's utter nonsense, Jessa.  If she were so damn unforgettable, why isn't she here with him?  You're the one he's buying presents for—the one he obviously is fixated on.  It's just a case of sour grapes.  Some chicks just don't know when to move on."

"It's not that," she heard herself saying, hating that she was even admitting it out loud.  Clearing her throat, she tried to inject enough bravado into her tone to cover up the hurt that seethed inside.  "It's just . . . I mean, he only gives me things after we . . . when we . . ."  She flinched.  Why did it sound so much worse when she said it out loud . . .?  "Like he's paying for . . . for it . . ."

"Oh, honey, I'm sure that's not what he's thinking . . ."

She shook her head, pulling her hair over her shoulder, twisting it around and around and around.  "I'm nothing more than a willing body," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.  "I'm convenient . . ."

"Jessa . . ." Carol sighed.  "I don't understand," she said, her voice taking on a hard edge.  "I just . . .  That's crazy, you know?  You're beautiful—gorgeous, even!  Hell, I'd sell my soul to Satan if I could look like you, and . . . Are you sure?  I mean, are you really, really sure?"

Jessa waved her hand, turned around to steady herself, blinking fast when the prickle of tears stung her eyelids.  "It's fine, Carol," she said.  "Ashur isn't worth crying over, now, is he?"

Carol didn't answer that, but she did step forward and squeezed Jessa's shoulders.  "Tomorrow night, you and me.  We'll have a girls' night, and we'll put hexes on men, get drunk, act stupid . . . Sound good?"

Jessa managed a wan smile as she dropped her hair to grasp Carol's hands and gave them a squeeze.  "Sounds good to me—after Ashur's party, anyway . . ."

"Oh, yeah, there's that . . ."

Letting her hands drop away, Carol grabbed her purse and headed for the door.  "You sure you don't mind if I borrow your swag mobile?  Laith said he doesn't mind taking me, but . . ."

"It's fine," Jessa said, handing over the keys.  "Wreck it if you want to.  Ashur's paying for it, anyway . . . But if you do, don't hurt yourself."

Carol laughed as the two stepped out of her apartment and headed around the paddock.

"Come on, girls!  Time to get cleaned up for dinner!  After that, we're going to go see Kells' school!" Charity called, her voice carrying to Jessa as she veered off toward the house to check on dinner and see if it was ready.

"Later, Jess!" Carol called.

Jessa waved over her shoulder.

She'd just finished, sticking the bread in the oven to heat and putting on some green beans that Eddie had already cleaned and prepped when Kells burst into the room, throwing his wet little arms around Jessa.  He loved to help her, and she didn't mind having him underfoot.  He let go and dragged over his tiny stool before slapping his hands on the counter.  "What can I do, Jessa?" he asked.

She tossed a clove of garlic into the food chopper and tore some chives to go in with it.  "Here," she said, slipping the plastic cover on that covered the blade.  "Do you want to chop?"

He nodded happily and started smashing his hand against the ball on the end of the plunger while Jessa dumped the stick of butter into a small bowl.  Then she emptied the garlic and chives into the butter and handed Kells a large wooden spoon.

By the time he was done mixing it all together, she'd carried the lasagna to the table and sliced the bread.  "Go tell your da that dinner's ready," she said, draining the green beans.

He hopped down and scooted his stool into the small nook again before tearing out of the kitchen to alert everyone that dinner was done.

Dinner was a quiet affair, at least, for Jessa.  She couldn't quite bring herself to look at Ashur, and if anyone noticed her silence, they didn't remark upon it.  Ben and Ashur were talking about youkai affairs that Jessa didn't really understand, and Charity was sidetracked with the girls and Kells, who was busy telling his aunt about his day at school.

Jessa excused herself and started cleaning up, and by the time she was done, she grimaced as she realized that she had to get changed fast.

She made quick work of brushing her teeth, of putting on a nice sweater and skirt with sensible black shoes, before piling her hair up in a twist that would look a little more sophisticated than her usual crazy-wild hair.  Biting her lip as she stared at the box—the diamond earrings Ashur had given her, she finally reached for them, putting them in as she slipped out of the room and down the hallway.

"Daddy, we gotta wait for Jessa!" Kells' voice drifted up the stairs.

"It's fine, Kells," Ashur replied.  She heard the sound of the front door opening.  "Let's go.  Ben and Charity are already in their car, see . . .?"

"But Jessa—"

"Oh, she doesn't want to come," Ashur told him as Jessa stopped at the top of the stairs.  "Nannies normally don't go to these types of things, anyway."

Kells heaved a heavy sigh, but stomped past Ashur out of the house.

The click of the closing door rang in her ears, and the tears that Jessa had been holding back all day finally burst loose as she sank to the floor, leaning against the wall, and cried.


Jessa sighed as she sat atop the wide stone railing of her balcony, her back against the solid wall behind her, knees drawn up before her, feet flat on the cold marble beneath them.  She'd taken off the skirt and pulled on a pair of shorts, yanked down her hair without bothering to pull the pins—she'd probably be sorry for that later—and the earrings?  Those she held in her hand.  She'd started to throw them at least twenty times, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.  As hurtful as his little trinkets were, she . . . She grimaced.  A part of her cherished them, too . . . Arms wrapped over her stomach, she gazed up at the skies, listened to the night birds as they called to one another . . .

They'd arrived home a little while ago.  Jessa had heard them—the closing of car doors, the indistinct murmur of tiny voices . . . She considered going to tuck Kells into bed, but she didn't dare.  The tears that she'd cried were staunched for now, but she didn't even try to delude herself into thinking that they were done, and if she looked at Kells now . . .

A crisp knock sounded on the bedroom door, but she ignored it, hoping that whoever it was had the decency to go away when she didn't answer.

Her luck was really at an all-time low, however, and she felt Charity's proximity without having to look.

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" the older woman said as she stepped out onto the balcony.

In the weeks since they'd arrived, Jessa had spent a few evenings out here with her, chatting and getting to know her.  Jessa liked her—liked her a lot—and yet, a part of her couldn't quite bring herself to divulge too much, either.  Maybe it was the simple memory of that first morning, of the way Charity had instantly and blindly sought to defend Ashur.  The thing was, if Jessa wanted any kind of answers, maybe she could get them from Charity because she'd tried, hadn't she?  Tried to ask Ashur so many times, and he'd refused to answer her, giving her only bits and pieces of nothing . . .

"It is," Jessa allowed, her voice as thin as the control she had over her emotions.

"Kells seemed a little quiet all evening, but his teacher said that he's so bright, so happy . . ." Charity laughed softly.  "She said that he talks about you all the time, every day, nonstop—talks about you more than he does about his own father . . ."

Jessa didn't respond to that.  What was there to say, and even then, what Charity said?  It hurt, didn't it . . .?

Charity hopped up on the rail and faced her, leaning back against the thicker post behind her as she hooked her hands around her knees.  "Did you have a nice, quiet evening?"  She laughed again.  "I'll bet you don't get too many of those with Kells running around . . ."

"Who is Kyouhei Muira?" she blurted.  It slipped out before she could stop herself.

"Kyou . . . hei . . ." Charity repeated, the joy in her voice fading fast, only to be replaced by a quiet sense of pensiveness.  She sighed.  "Did he tell you—?"

"Hana did," she interrupted.  "Hana . . ."

Charity looked alarmed for a moment before she managed to blink it away, to hide it in much the same way that everything—everything—was always secreted away from her.  "Hana?  You . . . You spoke to Hana . . .?"

Jessa nodded.  "I ran into her at the store," she said.  "She asked if we could have tea."

Charity's breath released in a long, slow, steady stream.  "It makes sense . . . I mean, she probably never knew that he'd changed his name . . . When everything happened . . . In a way, it was so harsh when he sent her away.  I mean, as far as we could tell, those two were close—maybe his only real friend, really . . . but after what she did . . ."

It occurred to Jessa that Charity was defending Hana now, whether by accident or design, and she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek.

Charity grimaced.  "You know, I don't know how much of this I really should tell you.  I mean, it's not that you don't have a right to know, but . . . I was there, sure, but the story really is Ben's and Ashur's . . ." Trailing off, she stared at Jessa.  She could feel the woman's gaze on her, as though she were trying to see into her head.  "Jessa . . . can I ask you something?  And it's really none of my business, but . . . Is there . . .? Is there something going on between you and Ashur?"

"I'm . . . I'm nothing," she whispered.

Charity didn't respond right away, though what she'd gleaned from Jessa's response was anyone's guess.  She sighed, though, pulled her knees up tighter, stared at Jessa in the filmy darkness.  "I don't think that anyone believes that," she said softly, quietly.  "There are moments when he . . ." Waving a hand, she sighed once more.  "A few years ago, there was an uprising back home, back in Japan.  It was shortly after Ben got custody of the girls, and I was there a lot, helping him with them.  Ashur—Kyouhei back then—showed up, which was weird.  They weren't close at the time.  I think Ben said that he'd only seen Kyouhei once before, and it was years ago.  I mean, I knew Ben for years before that, and I had no idea that he even had a brother.  I don’t think many did . . . Anyway, Kyouhei told him that there were whispers of a youkai uprising, that their parents were helping to plan it.  He went back home, spied for my grandfather—for the Inu no Taisho—but when their father and mother captured Manami—she was there hunting at the time—they . . ." Charity bit her lip, shook her head as a sadness bled into her aura.  "They tortured her—poisoned her.  Kyouhei got her out of there, but he was caught.  Hana came to us, told us that he was in trouble, and Ben . . . Ben challenged his father.  He didn't have a choice.  We found Kyouhei in the basement, tied up, beaten."  She closed her eyes.  "It was . . . It was horrible . . ."

"By whom?"

Charity laughed, but it was bitter, sad.  "Their father, the great and mighty Muira Hidekea . . . That's why Ashur changed his name.  That's why he hated the reminder . . . That, and there are probably people who blame him for what happened—people who might seek him out if they knew where he is.  Now, most of those dissidents are in Europe because the tai-youkai allows it.  Ashur never lied to you, I'm sure.  It's just . . . It's painful for him, those memories . . ."

Jessa slowly shook her head, her brain having trouble in reconciling the information she'd just been told.  It answered a few of her questions, but didn't come close to touching the ones that bothered her most: the ones that revolved around Hana . . .

And even so, something about the way Charity described things . . . Jessa just couldn't bring herself to ask the things she wanted to know most of all, didn't want to hear the biased answers, didn't want to hear the things that she knew intuitively, really couldn't help her at all . . .

"You know," Charity said, her voice, even and clear, "what I can tell you is that Ashur . . . I've seen him smile more in the past few weeks than I have in the last three years, and . . . and I have a feeling that it has something to do with you.  I could be wrong, but I . . ." She sighed.  "There's something about the way he looks at you when he thinks no one else is watching, and I think . . . I think if you talked to him, he might tell you everything.  I mean, he trusts you with Kells, and that is huge.  There's not many he does.  He loves that boy more than he loves himself, you see?  In a sense, Kells . . . Well, Kells might have saved Ashur, which sounds entirely stupid, doesn’t it?  But . . . But I think . . . I think he did . . ."

Jessa didn't know what to make of the impromptu pep-talk.  In truth, she didn't know what to make of anything, at all.  In her brain, Hana's words kept repeating, over and over again, like a taunt, like a death knell . . .

"He was . . . How do you say?  He was my, uh, one love?  But he cannot . . . cannot . . . forget me?"

Charity frowned.  "Jessa, are you okay?"

Blinking away those words, Jessa forced herself to nod.  "I'm fine," she said, hoping, praying, that Charity wouldn't see right through her.  "You know, if you don't mind, I'm . . . I'm really tired . . ."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm sorry . . ."

"No, it's okay," she insisted, wondering absently why it was that no one could actually see just what all the half-answers, the half-truths, were doing to her.

Charity stared at her for another moment.  Then she stood up, slipping off the railing, and she reached over to pat her arm.  "Okay, then," she said.  "If you need someone to talk to . . ."

She slipped quietly out of Jessa's room, the frown on her face deepening as she headed down the hallway toward the stairs.  Ashur was still sitting in Kells' room, reading him a bedtime story. Scowling slightly, she moved on.

Ben looked up from his phone—he'd been in the middle of texting someone—probably Cain.  He started to smile, but the expression faded when he got a good look at his mate's face.  "Something the matter?"

She shook her head, sank down beside him.  "I'm going to talk to Ashur," she said as the memory of the look on the young Irish woman's face flashed through her mind once more: the sadness, that sense of being utterly lost . . . Lost in a world of answers that she didn't have, questions that she couldn't answer . . .

"About what?"

She sighed, turning to stare at Ben.  "Have you noticed anything about him?  Anything at all about his mood?"

"Umm . . . n-n-n-o-o-o-o . . . Should I have?"

Narrowing her eyes, she slowly shook her head. "So, you haven't noticed how he watches Jessa all the time, how he looks up whenever her name's mentioned?"

"No," Ben drawled, arching an eyebrow at her, "but I'm guessing you have?"

She sighed once more.  "Oh, Ben, honestly . . . For being such a steadfast and reliable general, you really, really suck at observation sometimes . . .The thing is, she has so many questions, and, really, it's no one else's place to answer those except for him.  She ran into Hana today, and, apparently, Hana wanted to have tea with her, so she did, and . . . And I don't know exactly what Hana said, but . . ." Trailing off, she shook her head stubbornly, her shoulders squaring as though she were readying herself for battle.  "Anyway, I'm going to talk to him, and—"

"No, you're not," Ben stated flatly.

She snorted and rolled her eyes.  "Okay, then, when you talk to him, make sure you ask him—"

"Oh, yeah, I'm not, either," Ben said.

"Why not?  Someone needs to."

"No, we don't.  Cherry, look . . . He's a grown man, and it isn't up to us to fix things for him.  To be completely candid, I don't think he'd welcome our intrusion, anyway.  He'll get it—they'll get it—or they won’t.  As much as you want to help, this time, neither one of them would benefit from it, so leave it alone."

"But—"

"Uh uh," he said, silencing her with a finger to her lips.  Then, he sighed and stood up, grabbing Charity's hand and tugging her out of the room.

"Where are we going?" she demanded.

Ben shot her a look.  "To bed."

"Ben!"

"Charity, no . . . He's not a cub, and you can't fix it for him."

She uttered a frustrated half-sigh, half-groan, but she didn't argue with him as he herded her up the stairs.