InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Backwoods ( Chapter 4 )

"So, your brother . . . He's your much younger brother, you said?"

Without taking his eyes off the road, Fai grunted in response.  "Yes," he replied, stifling the urge to sigh since it was the first question Saori had asked all morning despite her endless line of babble that he'd endured since he'd offered to drive awhile.  He still wasn't sure why he'd offered, and was even less sure, why she'd let him, but at least it cut into the absolute boredom of having nothing at all to distract him since the old van's radio didn't work—along with most of the other luxuries that might have been installed when the vehicle was new.

She nodded.  He could feel her gaze on him, but didn't look to verify it.  Something about her eyes . . . "How much younger is he?  Yerik?  That's his name?"

Refreshing his grip on the steering wheel, he gritted his teeth when the van hit a rather nasty spot in the road.  "Yes, his name is Yerik, and he's eighteen—barely."

"Is he like you?"

"Meaning?"

She laughed softly, the scent of her hair coming to him on the breeze blowing through the open windows.  Something exotic, a flower or a tree?  He didn't know, but it was . . . pleasant . . . "Nothing bad," she assured him.  "Just . . . You're so serious—probably because you're tai-youkai, and that's such a heavy responsibility . . ."

"What would you know about any of that?"

"Is it hard to believe that I could understand how much rests on your shoulders?" she challenged instead.

He grunted.  "If you're aware of how much responsibility I have, then you wouldn't have kidnapped me," he parried.

She sighed.  "I did apologize for that," she reminded him.  "Besides, 'kidnap' has such a negative connotation, don't you think?  Can't we just say that I . . ." Trailing off, she tilted her head to the side and considered what she wanted to say.  Suddenly, though, she snapped her fingers and pointed at him.  "—That I appropriated you for awhile?"

"No, I don't think we can, and of course 'kidnap' has a negative connotation—there's no positive way to kidnap someone, Saori," he growled.

She made an exaggeratedly tortured face.  "I would still rather say that I appropriated you," she pointed out in a sulky tone.

He was saved from answering, however, when the van jerked, lurched, and with a muttered curse, he maneuvered it off of the road as billows of smoke started issuing from the hood of the beast.

"Did you break it?" she asked, almost accusingly, as she stumbled out of her door while he yanked on the hood release.

"Of course not!" he growled, slamming the driver's side door and stomping around the van, pushing her out of the way to unlatch the hood, only to jerk back when the steam rushed out.  "Damn it!"

"Let me see," she said, stepping forward, leaning over the steaming engine.  Waving a hand to disburse the smoke, she reached down, messing with a few tubes and wires.  He was about to scoff at her since he honestly didn't think she had a clue, any more than he did, but she sighed and stepped back, shaking her head as she reached up to pull the hood down.  "The hose that goes to the radiator has dry-rotted through, which is a simple enough fix if we were in town—and if the engine wasn't damaged by the high levels of heat.  That aside, it looks like it blew out all the oil, and that's a bad, bad sign . . ." Letting out a deep breath, she slowly shook her head.  "I think that the engine is probably locked up, and if that's the case . . ."

"Yes?" he prompted when she trailed off, scowling at the troubled expression that drew her eyebrows together.

She shot him a sober glance before letting her gaze shift back to the van once more.  "I think the engine's shot."

"How do you know that?"

She shrugged, rubbing her hands together to brush off whatever dirt she could.  "I used to like to hang out with Nezumi-oba-chan and help her work on cars," she explained, as though it was the simplest thing in the world.  "I'm not a mechanic, by any means, but I can usually tell what's wrong if it's pretty straightforward, like this is . . ."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back just far enough to pin her with a rather condescending look.  "Which means . . .?"

She sighed.  "Well, it means . . . I hope you like walking, Fai-sama."

He stared at her for another long moment before striding back the way they'd come.

"Where are you going?" she called, hurrying after him.

"Home," he said without breaking his stride.

She dashed around him, planting her hands in the center of his chest.  "What?  No!  You can't do that!  You've got to come meet the children!"

He snorted.  "Give me one good reason why I should do that, given that we're days away from there and now without transportation?"

She wrinkled her nose.  "Because you blew up the van," she pointed out.

His mouth dropped open, and he opened and closed it a few times.  "That wasn't my fault!" he growled, pointing back at the huge paperweight beside the road.  "I didn't do anything to it!  It was already on its last legs, so you can't blame me for that!"

"But you were driving, and it was fine, and then it stopped while you were still driving, and it won't run now, so I think the evidence is pretty clearly stacked against you, Fai-sama."

Narrowing his eyes on her, making a point of giving her hands a very significant look, he snorted indelicately.  "Entirely not my fault," he grumbled.

"Do you know that it was the only decent vehicle that the orphanage even had?" she challenged.

He rolled his eyes.  "Yet another reason why the place is too expensive to keep open," he shot back.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked positively exultant.  "And you blew it up."

"It's not working," he informed her brusquely, stepping around her and continuing along the side of the road.

"You're tai-youkai," she said.  "You know that this area's pretty dangerous, don't you?"

"You're tough.  You know martial arts.  You can handle it."

She rolled her eyes as she scuffed her feet against the asphalt—he could hear the scrape of her shoes.  "As tai-youkai, it's your job to look after those who cannot take care of themselves," she reminded him.

He hesitated in his gait, but ultimately kept moving.  "Are you saying you can't take care of yourself?" he parried.

"I meant the orphans," she muttered under her breath.

He didn't respond to that, but he did tighten his jaw.

"Would you really make me travel the rest of the way alone?" she called after him.

"Yes—because you kidnapped me."

"Appropriated!" she ground out.  "You'll feel bad if something happens to me!  What if I'm attacked by a wild animal?"

"Catch them a fish with your bare hands, then run."

She snorted.  "Or a stranger?"

"Anyone you encounter will definitely leave you alone."

"How would you know?"

"Because you never shut up, and they'll dump you back where they found you because you'll annoy the hell out of them."

"O-O-O-O-Oh!"

He lifted a hand to wave over his shoulder without looking back.

She sighed.  He heard her, but he had the distinct feeling that she hadn't actually meant for him to, and he frowned.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry I bothered you," she said, her quiet voice carrying back to him, just the same.

'Tell me you're not really going to just walk away from her.'

'Then don't ask.'

'. . . She's right, you know.  It is your job to watch out for those who are too weak to do that for themselves.'

'It's not that simple, and you know it.'

'And you know that the rest of what she said is true, too.  This area . . . It's not the safest.  The Bershetoyevs and the Kyranyovitch factions, people come under fire all the time around here, and yeah, they have that agreement right now, but all it takes is one slip-up to reignite the small-scale war that's been going on for years, and she's about to try walking through the thick of it . . .'

'And maybe she ought to have considered that before she decided to kidnap me.'

'Good God, are you still stuck on that?'

Heaving a sigh, Fai quickened his pace, opting instead to ignore his youkai-voice.  He'd humored her, hadn't he?  Sparing enough time to drive out to the orphanage was one thing.  Having to finish the trip on foot was quite another, and he'd wasted enough time, as it was.  If he were lucky, he'd be able to arrange transportation to get home back in the last town they'd passed through, even if he ended up, having to buy someone's car to do it . . .

Yerik Demyanov stepped into the castle with a long, drawn-out sigh, dropping the leather satchel on the floor as he raked a hand through his unruly golden hair, his emerald green eyes shifting quickly over the quiet grand entryway—across the marble floor, flickering over the two great pillars that flanked the wide stone staircase.

"Lord Demyanov," Vasili, the aged butler, greeted with a low bow.  "Will you be staying long?"

Yerik shifted his scowl onto the mink-youkai.  Though he seemed to be the absolute visage of patience, Yerik knew better.  Nothing ever happened under the Demyanov roof without that particular being knowing everything there was to know about it.  "I don't know," he replied curtly.  "Tell me why I haven't been able to reach my brother—why I keep getting sent straight to voicemail."

Vasili strode over and helped Yerik remove his leather jacket.  He shook it out, quickly flipping it back and forth to inspect for anything that might require his attention before hanging it quickly in the hall closet.  "His Grace is taking care of some business—he said."

Yerik's scowl deepened as he narrowed his gaze just a little more at the butler.  Entirely unflappable, of course, with every bit of his clothing in perfect array.  To the average bystander, there was nothing at all amiss in Vasili's stance or presentation.  Yerik knew better, though.  The slight hint of strain evident at the corners of his black gaze . . . a certain tightness around his mouth . . . There was something else that he wasn't saying, wasn't there?  But . . . "What aren't you saying?" he demanded.

Not surprisingly, Vasili slowly, pointedly, looked around.  There wasn't anyone else in the great hall, but Yerik nodded in silent understanding, turning on his heel and leading the way down the short corridor that led to his brother's office.  Only after the door had closed behind them—a thick, impossibly heavy wooden door that didn't allow much in the way of sound to permeate it—did Vasili let out a deep breath.  "He only called yesterday to ask me to cancel his appointments for the next two weeks," he admitted as he quietly glided across the floor to fill a glass with vodka for Yerik.  "He's been . . . missing . . . since Monday."

"Missing?" Yerik echoed incredulously, knowing that there wasn't any way that Vasili would just casually toss out a word like that.  "And why the hell am I just now hearing about this?" he growled, snatching the glass from the butler's hand and glowering at the man.  Then he snorted.  "Let me guess: His Grace instructed you not to tell me.  Am I right?"

Vasili had the decency to lower his gaze for a long moment.  "He wishes for you to continue with your schooling without interruption," he replied.

"Of course he does," Yerik snarled, slugging back the drink before slamming the empty glass on a nearby table.  "Do you have any idea where he is?  Why he took off?"

"He didn't say—and it's hardly my place to ask."

"Then why do you say that he was 'missing'?" Yerik challenged.

"His Grace would like for you to return to the university forthwith," Vasili insisted mildly, flicking an imaginary bit of dust off of the immaculate sleeve of his pristine white shirt.  In fact, Yerik couldn't remember having ever seen the youkai looking any less than perfectly turned out, and now was no exception.  Even his long, deep brown hair was neatly pulled back into a low-hanging ponytail, exactly in the center of the slate grey broadcloth vest.

Yerik narrowed his gaze on the butler, as though he were daring him to lie.  "Was he challenged again?"

This time, Vasili shook his head.  "Not to my knowledge," he allowed.  "All I know is that he was leaving to meet with Lord Chim regarding the Chinese sanctions, and he never showed up for it.  However, when he called, he said he was fine."

For some reason, the whole scenario just didn't strike Yerik as all right.  After all, he knew his brother better than anyone, didn't he?  It wasn't at all like Fai to blow off a meeting, especially one as important as the Chinese sanctions, without damn good reason . . .

'Unless . . .'

'Unless . . .?'

'Unless he's being monitored.  I mean, if that were the case, then he'd take care to make Vasili think that he's all right, now wouldn't he?'

Yerik wasn't entirely sure if he agreed with that.  Even if Fai tried to do that, Vasili was not stupid.  In fact, he was one of the most astute people that Yerik knew.  Whatever had happened, the butler didn't seem to believe that Fai was in any kind of danger, but if that were the case, then just what had happened . . .?

"Did Fai give any indication as to where he is now?" Yerik asked instead, hating that he had to ask, but any kind of lead was better than nothing . . .

"No," he replied with a thoughtful scowl.  "However . . ."

Gritting his teeth, willing himself not to light into the old butler, Yerik sighed and counted to twenty.  "However . . .?" he prompted.

Vasili stared at him for a long moment, as though he were trying to make up his mind about something.  In the end, he gave one curt nod.  "His Grace said that his phone was broken, so he was borrowing someone else's.  Assuming that this 'someone' is the person he left with, the zone code was that of Chukotka."

"Chukotka?  What the hell would he be doing with someone from there?  Did a name come up with the number?"

He shook his head.  "Just the number, and, given the situation, I felt it was best, not to try to delve too deeply into it."

Yerik nodded, raking his hands through his hair as he paced the length of the study and back again.  True enough, given the general unrest of the region, it was better not to give any indication that things might be happening.  That only made locating Fai that much more difficult, though . . .

"His Grace didn't take anything with him, either," Vasili relented.  "Just his wallet, but he didn't take any clothing—nothing that would indicate that his departure was planned in any way."

It didn't feel right, did it?  It wasn't at all like Fai to just take off with someone—anyone.  Too serious, too methodic—far too cautious . . . No, there wasn't any way that he'd have just decided to randomly up and leave.

The problem was, Fai didn't employ many hunters: only a handful of them, and they were all stationed outside of Russia, and even if Yerik knew how to get a hold of any of them, it would take them far too long to get here.  Telling anyone else about the situation wasn't even a consideration, either.  As far as Yerik could tell, there really was only one real solution.

"Did Fai leave his keys?" he asked, turning back to face the butler.

Vasili nodded and gestured at the wide desk on the far side of the room.  "I believe His Grace kept his spare fob in there."

Yerik nodded, altering his course to head toward the desk instead.  "Can you pack me a few changes of clothes?  I'll be leaving as soon as I can."

Vasili bowed.  "As you wish, my lord."

Wrapping her arms around her raised knees as she huddled against the rough stone overhang, Saori let out a deep breath as she gazed at the merrily dancing flames of the fire she'd built to cook the small rabbit she'd caught for dinner.  She'd already eaten what she could, and she really ought to toss away the rest of it before the smell of the cooked meat lured unwanted visitors to her makeshift camp, but the idea of wasting the food bothered her, too.

It wouldn't be so bad, she thought, if she didn't feel so completely alone.  She wasn't afraid, exactly, but she couldn't help but to feel the sense of isolation that had grown worse when she'd discovered that her cell phone was dead.  She supposed she'd always been a rather social person, so the idea of traveling entirely alone did bother her.

When she'd graduated from college last year, she'd opted to take a month, traveling all over Japan to visit shrines and to generally unwind and enjoy herself, and she'd gone alone, but she hadn't realized that she wasn't really alone, either.  She'd met people, participated in some small groups with others around her age who were doing the same thing.  The majority of them, however, were taking advantage in the short break between high school graduation and starting at the university or starting their careers.  Saori had skipped a few grades, though, so she had always been younger than anyone else in her classes.  This was different—entirely different.  Out here, there was no one else—not another soul—and the silence could be deafening . . .

She hadn't realized that before, either: the difference between the ambient sounds of the world and the sounds made by another intellectual being.  She supposed that, on some level, the songs of the birds and the whisper of the wind in the trees was comforting, but none of those things could talk to her, could distract her from the passage of minutes or hours.

'It's too bad that he refused to come with us,' her youkai-voice ventured.  It had also remained conspicuously quiet all day, too.

She stifled a sigh, letting her chin drop on her raised knees.  'I suppose it can't be helped,' she mused.  'I mean, I did kidnap—I mean, appropriate—him, to start with, and it's not like I could have dragged him off against his will any more than I already did . . .'

'Maybe you should have cried a little.'

She snorted.  'Like I'd resort to that!' she scoffed.  'That'd be a really rotten thing to do!'

'Maybe, but it might have worked, too!  He seemed like a decent kind of person overall—well, if you discount the idea that he's set to leave a bunch of orphans high and dry, that is . . .'

'That's not his fault.  I mean, I don't like it, but if there's not enough money, then there's just not enough money . . .'

'You're defending him?'

She scowled at the fire, slowly shook her head.  'Hardly!  I'm simply being logical here—pragmatic, even.  That's all . . .'

'So . . . You wouldn't resort to tears to get your way, but you kidnapped the man?'

'Appropriated!'

'You can't put a nice face on a felony, Saori!'

'But that was your idea, not mine!'

'Yeah?  And you're the one in control of the body, and you went with it, so it's more your fault than mine.'

Snapping her mouth closed at the ridiculousness of the current discussion, Saori let out a deep breath.  Sometimes, she thought that her youkai-voice was out to get her.  After all, everyone else seemed to think that their voices were calm and even helpful.  Hers?

Hers tended to like to see just how much trouble it could get them into at any given moment, she was certain.

If she had a yen for every time her youkai voice prompted her to do something, only for her to figure out later that it might not have been the smartest thing in the world, she'd be rich already.  It seemed like it had been that way from the moment she could hear the voice and understand just what it was suggesting.

It figured.

'If I'm that bad, then maybe you should learn how to ignore me—or do the opposite of what I suggest,' the voice huffed.

'Maybe I should,' she allowed.

Her mother, for the most part, tended to find her antics amusing—even endearing.  Her father and brother?  Not nearly as much, she figured, because they were the ones who tended to bail her out of trouble—like the time her youkai-voice had suggested that she climb onto the top of the martial arts dome at school, which wouldn't have been nearly as bad had her great-uncle not been forced to rescue her when she realized just how far off the ground she was and that she was too scared to get down the same way she'd gotten up there, in the first place.  The entire school had ground to a stop to watch as Izayoi InuYasha had retrieved her, tossing her over his shoulder since he was more than a little irritated that she'd done it, in the first place.

That escapade had cost Senkuro Seiji a healthy donation to the martial arts department after all was said and done . . .

'The only reason oji-chan was mad was because that dome can be seen from some of the area office buildings—if they were looking at the time.  There never was a write up or anything in the newspapers, so it's a safe bet that no one noticed.'

She sighed.  Considering she still remembered the lecture she'd received when she got home that day well enough, she wasn't sure she'd look at it as, 'nothing much' . . .

Rubbing her upper arms as she huddled a little smaller against the ledge, she frowned.  The temperature had dropped a lot more than it had on the previous nights, and she bit her lip.  She hadn't realized that it was going to get so chilly or she'd have taken the time to find better shelter or build something.

'Might as well get moving for a little bit—at least, long enough to warm up some,' she thought as she pushed herself to her feet.  After all, it wasn't that late, and if it were already this chilly, it would only get worse, so she figured that gathering a bit more firewood would be a good plan.

In the distance, she could hear the sounds of wolves, but they weren't near enough to concern her.  Pausing long enough to tilt her head back, to stare up at the low-hanging stars that dotted the clear skies overhead, even through the network of tree branches, she couldn't help the little smile that touched her lips.  Funny how she hadn't realized, just how many stars she hadn't seen growing up.

When she was younger, the family had split its time between Hong Kong, where Taishosoft—the branch of Inutaisho Industries that Aiko and Seiji had been given as a wedding present years ago—was located and Tokyo.  Saori's uncle, Toga had taken over the bulk of the family business: the conglomerate that was comprised of a number of various enterprises, but all of them centered in the tech industry, but Aiko, with Seiji, had taken over the software development company.  It wasn't until later, when Saori was old enough to start school, that they'd opted to relocate their main office to Tokyo.  Seiji was the actual chairman of the board, but Aiko enjoyed her spot in research and development well enough.  Aiko had said often enough over the years that running the business side of things was boring, but tinkering with code?  That was her true niche, and she, along with her team, had been the masterminds behind the wildly successful office suite, Intelliface, which tended to be the program of choice these days . . .

Saori supposed that most people had just assumed that she'd follow right along in her parents' and even her brother's footsteps and take a job at Taishosoft.  She had opted to go her own way, though, since the idea of sitting in front of a computer all day was just not something she'd ever entertained.  Seiji loved the business side of it as much as Aiko thrived in her chosen role.  Rinji was her father's right-hand man, so to speak, though he, too, tended to dabble in research and development, as well.

Saori, though . . .

They said she was a child prodigy.  She, like Rinji, had excelled in school, but she'd never been interested in academics the way her brother was.  No, she tended to be more fascinated with people—with the psychology of them—which had led her here, she supposed.

There was just something highly fulfilling about working with children, in helping children find their own paths.  Seeing the way a child could blossom when given the right encouragement . . . It would never make her rich, and that was fine.  Thanks to the very healthy trust funds—one from her parents and another from her esteemed grandfather—she never really had to worry about stuff like that.  She, like many in her family, tended to just live off the interest that the funds generated, anyway, and with a money whiz in the family like her distant cousin by marriage, Gavin, she knew well enough that her already sizeable wealth had only grown in the last year or so . . .

Still, as much money as she had access to, she was pretty certain that it wouldn't be nearly enough to keep the orphanage running indefinitely.  But she did still have a few options, as much as she hated to do it.  Trying to convince Fai-sama to change his mind had only been the most preferable of them.  If she had to, though, she wasn't above going to her family and seeing if there was anyone who would be willing to help underwrite the facility.  Sesshoumaru and Kagura might, if only for her sake, and then, there were Gin and Cain Zelig and their foundation.  They usually only took on charities in North America, but maybe they would make an exception in this case.

She just didn't want to go to them if she could help it.  The chairman, like most Russians she'd come into contact with, tended to view foreigners with a healthy dose of distrust, and the staff tended to hold a generally unfavorable view of those whom they considered to be the upper echelon, especially those from North America, the land of excess, in their minds . . .

Too bad she didn't really have much of a choice in it any more.  Hopefully, though, they would see her suggestion of looking for funding outside of the country as the best answer for the dilemma at hand.

She grimaced since it all kind of sounded to her like really wishful thinking.  Her only real hope was that she could make the chairman see past his general disdain and to get him to focus on the good of the children.

The immediate problem, however, was that she could get some sleep—maybe—or she could keep the fire going for some warmth, but she really couldn't do both.  She could, she supposed, empty out the sweatshirt she'd tied into a makeshift backpack to carry back the children's things that she'd brought along to help personalize the children for Fai-sama's sake, but she didn't really like the idea of scattering their precious belongings all over the ground, either, especially if it were to rain.  At the moment, she didn't think it would, but one never knew, this time of year . . .

And she'd left her suitcase behind, too, taking only the sweatshirt, an extra pair of panties, and an extra bra since there wasn't much room in the garment to stuff much else, but it was just her out here, so it wouldn't really matter if she stank or not . . .

Letting out a deep breath, she turned to head back to the fire, only to stop short, her eyes flaring wide at what she thought she saw.

'But . . . That can't . . . be . . .'

Hunkered down next to the fire, not bothering to look at her as he slowly, methodically, stripped meat off the cooked rabbit she'd left on a bed of clean leaves . . . He didn't look any worse for wear, and she wasn't entirely sure where he'd come from, either, since she hadn't sensed anyone following her during the day.  Then again, what did it matter, really?  It didn't, especially when her heart seemed to grind to a painful halt, only to hammer wildly against her ribcage a minute later as a strange and foreign sense of near-giddiness brought a smile to her lips as she stood there, watching him.

"Fai-sama . . ."