InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Whirlwind ( Chapter 84 )

"There's the bride-to-be!"

Jessa smiled as she stood up, brushing off the full skirt of the rust-colored dress.  "Myrna!  You're early!" she exclaimed, accepting her cousin's warm hug before hurrying over to fetch a cup for her.  "Just in time for tea," she said.  "Nora made those scones earlier—orange and currant.  They're wonderful."

"They smell great," she said, reaching for one as Jessa filled a mug with tea and some cream and a bit of honey.  "I got done with the assignment that Cain sent me to do, so I figured I might as well drive up a few days early—give me some time to spend with you before all the craziness sets in. I'm sorry my brother can't make it.  Life as a photojournalist, I guess.  But he sends his love . . . Is everything taken care of?"

Setting the mug of tea before Myrna, Jessa sat back down and nodded.  "Tell him thank you and that it's fine.  As far as everything else . . .?  I actually think it is," she allowed with a happy sigh.  "Thank God . . . Makes you glad that you only get married once because, to be honest, it's been kind of a pain to plan . . ."

"A one-shot thing, hon.  Better make it exactly what you dreamed of.  Is it?"

Biting her lip, she shrugged.  "No, but . . . but my dream included Ma and Da, and . . ."

Myrna winced and reached over to give Jessa's hand a squeeze.  "But you know, as corny as it sounds, they'll always be a part of you."

Jessa nodded, quickly dashing a hand over her eyes as she smiled brightly.  "I know," she replied.  "That's why, though . . . That's why I thought it'd be nice to just have close friends and family.  I guess it's kind of my new dream.  Now, I just want to be settled.  I want to focus on the future and . . . and I just want to breathe . . ."

Myrna stared at her for a long moment, then raised an eyebrow, as though she were daring Jessa to lie to her.  "And you're sure you want to marry him?"

Jessa giggled.  "I am," she said.  "I . . . I love him, and he loves me . . ."

Myrna smiled.  "Good.  Then everything's as it should be."  Letting out a deep breath, she quickly shoved a long lock of blonde hair behind her ear.  "To be honest, I started to wonder . . . I mean, I thought that maybe the two of you would be able to help each other, you know?  With him and everything he went through, and you . . . I . . . I hoped that you'd understand one another, but then after the gala . . ."

"I . . . I didn't know how he felt then," Jessa admitted.  "I didn't know anything . . ."

Myrna made a face.  "I'm really sorry, you know.  I thought . . . Well, I didn't think he'd hurt you like that, and it was all my fault . . ."

Jessa considered that.  Myrna had done it on purpose, hadn't she?  Sent her to stay with Ashur, not because she didn't care, but because she'd thought that maybe . . . "I wouldn't change it," Jessa said, and the moment she did, she knew that it was absolutely true.  "I . . . I belong here with him; with Kells . . ."

Myrna sighed.  "It's just that I know my faults.  I know what I'm not good at, and I'm not good at helping people to heal.  That's just not me, but when I thought about you, remembered how you were even as a child . . . Oh, Jess, you know, you were so quiet, so serious, and so, so beautiful . . . When my parents died, I was still just a baby—younger than you are now—but times were different back then.  I . . . I grieved for, like, a day, and then . . . And then, I put them away.  I thought that it was better if I didn't think about them, didn't dwell on them—that I could make myself okay by not allowing myself to remember.  I guess it worked for me, but you . . . You've never been tough like that, and I didn't want you to be.  I didn't want you to feel like you needed to be, especially not for me.  I'm so glad you've found where you belong.  You have, haven't you?"

Jessa laughed, reaching for a scone.  "I have," she agreed.  "Thank you."

Sesshoumaru swept into the living room, ignoring everyone as he stepped over to pour himself a drink.  The women had all decided to go to an afternoon presentation of Disney Princesses on Ice at the Quebec Civic Center with the girls, followed by a special 'Princess Dinner' at a local restaurant that had been reserved for the festivities, while the boys, deciding that Disney Princesses were 'gross' were outside, running around, like hyper little hooligan.  He figured that at least one of them would be inside soon enough, probably crying or angry since it was the nature of the beast, so to speak.

Turning away from the wetbar with a glass of sherry in his hand, Sesshoumaru stopped, frowning thoughtfully as the feel of something vaguely familiar washed over him.  It had been . . . centuries since he'd felt youki like that, and he quickly glanced around without moving his head.  The only one he didn't recognize was the youkai sitting near Ashur, and without a second thought, Sesshoumaru strode forward, flicking a hand to remove the man's concealment.  The white hair, the palest green eyes . . . He recognized that coloring, even if he still wanted answers.  "You're a light-youkai," he stated flatly.  "From where do you hail, and how did you get here?"

The young man blinked, shifted rather uncomfortably, as the others in the room—Ashur aside—stared at him with varying degrees of interest.  "I'm from England," he said.  "You don't seem surprised."

"I've not encountered one of your ilk in a long while," Sesshoumaru stated, settling into the last empty chair.  "I thought your kind was relegated to little more than myth and legend."

Devlin shrugged.  "My mother is like me, too," he admitted.  "I'm here because my father . . . Well, it's a long story, but he wanted me to marry Irish—Jessa."

"Which is partially why I wanted to talk to you," Ashur interrupted.  "It's been brought to my attention that Jessa . . ." He grimaced.  "There's a strong possibility that the baby she's carrying is the phoenix."

Sesshoumaru narrowed his gaze just slightly as he stared at the earth-youkai.  "The phoenix . . . And why would you believe this?"

Ashur sighed, rubbing his forehead.  "Her aunt told me."

"Her aunt?  What does she know?"

"She's the mother of the last one."

"The phoenix is just a . . ." Trailing off, Sesshoumaru blinked slowly as the strangest sense of déjà vu crept over him, even if he had no idea why.  "And your mate is pregnant," he said, leveling a look at Ashur instead.

Ashur nodded.  "She is," he allowed.

"But she doesn't know, and Ashur won't tell her," Ben added.

One eyebrow quirked.  "How does she not know?"

Ashur shot his brother a quelling glance.  "She wanted to be surprised," he said.  "It was before I found out about all of this.  We think that Devlin's father had knowledge or at least suspected that Jessa would mother this child, so that's why he was so set on seeing Devlin mate her."

"And he would have achieved not only perpetuation of the light-youkai, but control of the phoenix, as well," Sesshoumaru concluded.  "Surely you understand that literal proof of the existence of the phoenix is limited, at best, and embellished, at worst."

Sitting back in his chair, fingertips steepled before his face, Ashur slowly flicked his gaze up to meet Sesshoumaru's without moving his head.  "Nora said your . . . your father destroyed the one before her daughter—Amaterasu, the goddess of the sun—of the flame."

"Chichiue . . ."

Ashur nodded.   "That's what she said."

A strange sort of buzzing erupted in his head, a wash of barely formed memories that somehow didn't feel like his own . . . What the earth-youkai was alleging seemed impossible; he knew that, and yet . . .

"Nora said that the Inu no Taisho . . . that he was forced to give up something in order to gain the power to defeat Amaterasu," Ashur went on quietly.  "She said that he was forced to give up—"

"Hahaue," Sesshoumaru interrupted, eyes flashing open wide as the dry cracking, the shrill splinter of the crystal glass in his hand popped in the air.  Ignoring the wash of sherry that mingled with his blood as the splinters of crystal pierced his flesh, Sesshoumaru's fist tightened as something in his mind slammed open, as a torrent of memories that encompassed years?  Centuries? shot to the fore . . .

The lonely cliff that overlooked the choppy waves, so far below, the scent of the salty sea as it slammed against the rocks . . . The lonely call of the birds amidst the acrid stench of the scorched land . . . The pensive stiffness in the great and terrible Inu no Taisho's stance . . .

"What will you do, chichiue?"

"It comes at great cost, Sesshoumaru," he said, his voice tempered by the things that he did not give voice.  "The power I require . . ."

"And what choice do you have?" he challenged almost belligerently.

"It isn't that simple," he cut in with a terse growl.  "You see the world in black and white because of who you are—because you are still young.  You do not understand—"

"I understand," Sesshoumaru cut in coldly.  "You are not my father.  The father I know does not hesitate, does not make excuses, when he knows the true course to take."

Pivoting slowly, the wind picking up the cape of fur affixed to the shoulders of his armor, the ends of his sash, glowing brilliantly in washes of blue, of crimson as they whipped around him, the long ponytail held, suspended . . . The flash of amber eyes, oblong pupils, dilating in his anger, as he pinned Sesshoumaru with a fierce glower.  "You understand nothing!" he growled.  "You presume to tell me, who your father is?  I tell you this: I am your father, and you . . . You need not understand —and I pray you never, ever will."

He possessed the grace to look away at the blatant set-down, lowering his gaze in deference to his father's words.  "The phoenix must be stopped," he said quietly—almost humbly—almost.

Turning his attention back to the sea, the Inu no Taisho nodded.  "She must be stopped," he agreed.  "I have found a way to achieve the power to defeat her, but the cost . . . is high."

"Is it so great that you will hesitate?"

"Remember, Sesshoumaru . . . There is nothing in this world that is ever granted for free . . ."

And he'd watched as his father turned, as he walked away . . .

And somehow, those memories . . . They'd been locked away, hadn't they?  But his father's words, as they echoed in his head . . . The price he'd paid for that power?  He'd been forced to give up his mate, and something in that had forced those memories from Sesshoumaru, too . . . "Hahaue was the price he had to pay . . ." he murmured, more to himself than to anyone.

Ashur sighed.  "That's what Nora believes, yes."

Sesshoumaru said nothing right away.  Standing up, letting the shards of broken crystal fall from him, he strode toward the French doors, stepped outside without another word.

The bitter cold wind tingled on his skin, in his nose as his gaze shifted over the land.  There was a raw beauty in the wide open, in the dormant ground.  In his mind, a million memories seemed to shift, slowly, as though they were struggling to find where they rightfully belonged . . .

Stretching out his hand, feeling the shards of crystal that had embedded themselves into his palm fall away, he struggled to make sense of the things that he thought he knew—the things that he hadn't understood at all . . .

"Tou-chan!"

Blinking away the lingering memories that were still tumbling around in his head, Sesshoumaru caught sight of his youngest: his son, who dashed toward him with an almost anxious expression on his face, bright silver hair, flowing out around him in a wild disarray, magenta eyes—so very much like his mother's—and he knew that the boy was looking for his approval . . .

Without a word, he hunkered down, caught the child as he threw himself against Sesshoumaru's chest.  "What's wrong, Koujizen?" he asked, standing up slowly, refusing to relinquish his grip on the child.

The three-year-old quickly shook his head.  "I'm sleepy, tou-chan," he said, ferreting his head under his father's chin.

Breaking into the barest hint of a smile, Sesshoumaru let out a deep breath.  There were moments when he thought that perhaps he ought to be a little stricter with Koujizen, and yet, he was the one who always seemed to want just that little bit of reassurance, and really, was there anything wrong with that . . .?

The expression on his father's face when he'd turned to glare at Sesshoumaru on that day so very long ago . . . And Sesshoumaru hadn't understood it then, had he?  But now . . .

Fleeting images of his own children: of Rin and Toga and Aiko . . . and now, of Koujizen and his twin sister, Chiasa . . . What Sesshoumaru had not understood, not back then . . . His great and terrible father, the Inu no Taisho, understood very well, just what the cost of his duty would be . . . and he had chosen to do it, anyway . . .

"You have been quiet tonight—more quiet than usual."

Sesshoumaru said nothing; didn't turn, didn't acknowledge his mate's presence as she quietly closed the doors that led to the guest bedroom on the third floor of Ashur's mansion.

"Did something happen while we were away?"

"My memories were altered," he said.  "Everything that I took for granted—everything I thought that I understood . . ."

"What memories?" she asked, stepping up beside him, wrapped in the warmth of a thick fleece blanket.

"I had no memory of my father beyond my youth," he remarked, narrowing his gaze slightly at the sinking sun on the horizon.  "Hahaue dying, and . . ."

He could feel his mate's gaze on him, her troubled stare that he couldn't yet meet.  "She died when you were a child, didn't she?"

He shook his head slowly.  "She isn't dead—that I am aware of.  She . . . She never died . . ."

"That's . . . not possible . . ."

Tongue flicking out, dampening his lips, he frowned.  "She . . . She couldn't stand to look at me.  My face . . . reminded her of someone—someone she couldn't remember, yet it hurt her, and . . . and she left me."

"Sesshoumaru . . . This doesn't make sense."

He sighed—a very rare sound from him.  "My father needed power.  He had to gain the strength to defeat Amaterasu—the phoenix.  She'd risen.  She broke the land of Japan into tiny islands, and she would have destroyed it all, so chichiue . . . But, in order to gain that power, he had to give up something in return.  He gave up hahaue—gave up all memory of her, and she, of him, but some part of her remembered . . . Over time, my own memories shifted, and I forgot . . . Somehow, I came to believe that she had died when I was a child, but . . . " Trailing off, he glanced down at her, gazed into those sparkling eyes that he so loved . . . "That is why chichiue found InuYasha's mother.  She . . . She truly was his mate, just as hahaue . . . That's why . . . That's why I hated her—hated them . . . hated him . . . my own brother, and I . . ."

She turned toward him, held the blanket closed with one hand, reached out with the other to hold his cheek.  "Sesshoumaru . . ."

"So, I ask myself, if it happened again, if I . . . If I needed that kind of power, could I . . .?" He grimaced just for a moment—a fleeting expression that melted away as quickly as it had appeared.  "Could I give you up if that was what was asked of me, and I . . ." His gaze slowly locked with hers again, brightening as though he were ashamed of his own truths—of what he might well perceive as a weakness.  "I couldn't do it, Kagura.  Let the phoenix rampage—let her destroy the entire world because, if I had to live a lifetime without you?  I would allow it all to burn to ash.  I would watch as the entire world crumbled, because I could not . . . not ever . . ."

Kagura smiled just a little.  "Does the phoenix even exist?"

He didn't respond to that.  Instead, he slipped his arms around her, held her close in the falling night . . .