InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Crossfire ( Chapter 11 )

He didn't know what time it was.

Whether he'd been sitting there, lost in thought for a few minutes or a few hours, he honestly didn't know.  In fact, it really didn't occur to him.  The confusion that delineated his features was stark, heavy, and if he'd asked himself, 'why' once, he'd asked himself a thousand times.

And yet, there were no answers, no hidden truths, whispering to him, waiting for him to hear, waiting for his acknowledgement.

He could blame those blue-gray eyes.  They were just so fathomless, so full of a warmth that she never tried to hide . . . and he knew, didn't he?  He could lose himself in those eyes if he let himself be carried away . . .

He could blame those contours of her face.  Such an interesting study of softness and angles—just enough to gentle her; just enough to lend her an exotic sort of refinement . . . and it drove him to utter distraction, didn't it?  The idea that he had to touch her, to feel her skin, to know if she really was as soft as she looked . . .

He could blame those full, rosy lips.  Shades darker than pink, not quite red, either, ready to smile, to laugh . . . and a single thought was bounding through his head, over and over, wasn't it?  He desperately needed to know what she tasted like—heady like a glass of vodka?  Addictive like a drug . . .?

Frowning down at the metal mug of tea in his hands, Fai noticed in an absent kind of way as the darkened shadows of night started to pale.

He'd been sitting here all night, ever since Saori had made her hasty departure with Galinia.

He still didn't know what had happened.

Well, that wasn't entirely true.  He'd realized early on that the woman was beautiful, of course.  That wasn't it, though.  He'd seen enough beautiful women over the years, and not one of them had ever affected him in the way that she did.

'You really don't know why?'

Letting out a deep breath, Fai's frown deepened into an outright scowl.  'She's fascinating, but . . .'

'But there's more to it than simple fascination, you know.  There's something about her, and you feel it, too.'

For once, he didn't argue with his youkai-voice.  'It feels like . . . like I know her—really know her . . .'

'You know, your mother used to believe that souls did know each other and that certain souls were meant to be together.'

'I don't remember her saying anything like that.'

'She thought it all the time while she was carrying you.  You don't remember; pups never do, but I do.  Back then, the two of you were connected; her thoughts came to me like yours do now.  I couldn't talk to her, but I certainly could hear her . . . Once you were born, I couldn't hear her anymore—at least, not like that.  But you did hear her back then, too, even if you don't remember.  She would talk to you, and you would answer her by moving or flipping over . . . and she knew it.  Mothers do.'

'Mother . . .'

'Okay, so tell me, Fai . . . How are we going to keep her here?'

Frowning as he shook his head, Fai wasn't entirely sure just who his youkai was talking about.  'Who?'

His youkai sighed.  'Saori, Fai . . . Who else?'

He grunted.  'You were talking about Mother, weren't you?  And she's already gone, so . . . Stop changing subjects so quickly, and I won't have to ask questions, now will I?  As for Saori . . . I don't think there's any way to keep her here.  I mean, the home has to cut funding; there's no option, and—'

'Not here, as in the home!  Here!  Here, in Russia!'

'There's nothing I can do, short of confiscating her passport, and I can't do that, either.'

'Unacceptable, Fai.  She needs to be here with you—with us.  Find something!  Anything!  Just make sure you do it before it's too late.'

'Why the urgency?  I mean, I know why I'd like to keep her here, but you?  What does she matter to you?  None of the other women I've met ever mattered to you, and—'

'Oh, you're so damn stupid!  Well, you're smart, but you're stupid, too!  Fine, then, if you want to be obtuse.  She could be everything—everything—and you're willing to just step back, to watch her slip right out of our lives before we ever figure out just how much of 'everything' she really could be.'

Blinking slowly as he pondered his youkai's words, he sipped the tea without actually tasting it.  'Are you trying to say . . .?'

The voice sighed a long, draw out sigh, full of resignation, almost sadness.  'That's the point, Fai.  I don't know yet.  I don't know, but . . . but maybe . . .'

Setting the mug aside, Fai shifted his gaze upward.  The sky so far above the crosshatched branches was a watery gray, mere shades lighter than the wood.  Daylight was coming as the sounds of the morning birds started to rise.

Saori . . .

Contemplating the things his voice had said, Fai shook his head.  He understood what it had meant.  He didn't know just what to think of it, though—whether or not he ought to believe it.

He was still staring at the skies as the sun rose over the horizon.

"How's your shoulder?"

Letting his right hand fall away as he schooled his features, but he couldn't stop himself from giving his left arm a little shake.  "It's fine," he said gruffly, stubbornly refusing to look at his cousin.  He was hiding pain was something that was inborn, bred bone deep, as his mother was fond of saying.  Brushing that thought aside impatiently, he narrowed his eyes on his injured cousin, seeing right through his waning bravado, before glancing around once more.  He was sure that they weren't being followed, but he couldn't shake the sense of foreboding, either.  "Keep movin' . . . They could be following us," he insisted, his gait taking on a distinct lurch as he smashed a his hand over his shoulder once more.

Nikolai Bershetoyev shook his long and unkempt mane of dingy gray hair, murky dark eyes shifting to the side as his scowl deepened.  "Did you see 'em?  Was it one of those damn Kyranyovitch scum?"

"I don't know.  Didn't see 'em," he said, his voice almost a choked abbreviation, careening to the side, nearly crashing into the stout trunk of a Siberian Larch with an involuntary groan.  Struggling to draw a few deep breaths, Pavel Bershetoyev tried to lever himself away from the tree, but simply didn't have the strength at the moment.  "Just . . . a minute . . ." he rasped out.

Nikolai scowled at his younger cousin before knocking Pavel's hand away from his bleeding shoulder.

They'd been traveling north, heading to one of the family's hunting outposts, when the shot had rang out, the bullet, ripping through Pavel's shoulder.  From what he could see, Pavel's flesh was starting to mend itself.  Still, that kind of a wound was bound to hurt like the devil, and the very sight of it was enough to make Nikolai grind his teeth together as a harsh growl slipped from him.  "Bastards!  Guns!  Guns!" he gritted out, his voice thick with outraged disbelief, his fangs flashing in the mid afternoon sunshine that spilled through the boughs of the trees, so high overhead.

"I'm fine," Pavel insisted, his voice regaining some of his usual candor, sounding much more steady than he looked as he pushed himself away from the tree trunk.  "Let's go."

Scowling at the younger tundra-wolf-youkai, Nikolai slowly shook his head.  "Take it easy," he said, taking note of the almost grayish pallor in Pavel's face, the sweat, beading on his brow.

"Pav, stop . . . At least sit down a few minutes.  Regroup . . . Let me pack your wound."

"It doesn't hurt as much now," Pavel lied.

"Your mother will kill me herself if I let you keep going," Nikolai warned.

Heaving a sigh that ended in a grimace, Pavel stopped, eased himself down on a rotting tree stump.  "That was a low blow," he pointed out.

Nikolai yanked off his tattered leather jacket, followed by the threadbare green tee-shirt that he promptly slit up both sides.  Then he took it, carefully wrapped it under Pavel's arm and up over his rent shoulder a few times before tying it off.  Satisfied with his efforts, he shrugged his jacket back on and dug into the inside pocket for a small silver flask that he uncapped and handed over.  "It worked, didn't it?  Drink some of this."

"Thanks," Pavel said, tipping the bottle to his lips.  "That's the worst vodka I've ever had," he complained, handing back the flask with an exaggerated grimace.  "Tastes like turpentine."

Nikolai grunted, mainly because they had actually drank once when they were desperate.  As stupid as that was, at least they'd watered it down.

They'd both been sick for a week.  Nikolai's father, who had found them both, puking their guts up, had lectured them for the entire week on just how stupid that escapade had been . . .

Pavel chuckled weakly, pushing himself back to his feet again.  "Come on . . . We can't stay here."

Nikolai snorted, mostly because he knew that Pavel was right.  If the Kyranyovitches didn't realize that they were here yet, they would soon.  Keeping moving was really the only available option, even if he didn't like it . . .

Pavel shook his head and brushed past Nikolai.  "Gotta get out of this forest," he insisted.  "They'll claim we're trespassing."

"Let them come," Nikolai growled.  Even so, he followed after Pavel.  "They've overstepped themselves this time.  If it's all-out war they want, then that's what they'll have."

Kneeling beside the flowing river, Saori let out a deep breath as she carefully scrubbed the tin plates they'd brought along for the children.  Satisfied that the one in her hand was clean, she dropped it with a loud clatter onto the stack beside her before reaching for the next dirty plate.

'Well, aren't you in a mood?  Let me guess: his name starts with, 'Fai', and ends with you, batting your eyelashes and hanging off of his every word like some silly little girl?'

Snorting loudly, Saori opted to ignore the voice that invariably got her into trouble, anyway, leaning to the side, using her shoulder to push her hair back out of her face.

'Ignore me?  Puh-leez!  As if you could!  Anyway, it's your own fault, you know.'

'How do you figure?'

'Considering every time he's come anywhere near you today, you've turned tail and ran away?  Yes, it's most definitely your own fault.'

'I most certainly did not!' Saori argued.  'The children needed me—that's all.  First it was Galinia, then it was Olga . . .'

'Coward.  Since when are you a coward?'

'I'm not being a coward!' she argued.  'They did need me.  I can't ignore them, you know, not even for Fai-sama, and—'

'And he wanted to talk to you.'

Saori made a face as the plate clattered against the stack.  She snatched up the next one, brows drawing together in  marked frown as she focused on scrubbing it clean.  'More like he wanted to make excuses for what . . . didn't happen . . .'

'Or maybe he wanted to pick up where you left off.  You'll never know, now, will you?  Silly goose, you just had to turn tail and run, so you can put a nice face on it if you want to, but there is something between the two of you, whether you believe it or not.'

"Saori."

With a strangled gasp, she shifted around, glanced over her shoulder, cheeks blossoming in embarrassed color as her gaze locked with Fai's.  Stepping out of the trees, he ambled toward her, a marked scowl marring his features, and she turned her back on him, trying to hurry in washing the dishes.  "Fai-sama . . ."

He stopped beside her, standing at a respectable distance, staring out, over the water.  "I get the feeling that you're avoiding me," he said without preamble.  "I'm . . . I'm sorry about . . . about last night.  I didn't . . . It wasn't my intention to—"

"I know," she blurted quickly, unable to staunch the flow of blood that saturated her skin as she stubbornly ducked her head, hoping, praying, that he couldn't see her face.  "It's okay.  It's . . . It's fine . . ."

"That's not—"

Hastily scooping up the clean dishes, Saori shot to her feet and hurried back toward the campsite.  "Really, Fai-sama, it's fine," she insisted, inflicting enough brightness into her tone to hide her acute discomfort—she hoped.  "The . . . The children wanted to play some games, so . . ."

She heard his frustrated sigh, but she kept up her brisk pace, barely able to control her urge to run away from him.  With a gasping squeak, she tightened her grip on the plates when he caught her arm and pulled her back, turned her around to face him—and his very formidable glower that did nothing at all to diminish just how good-looking he really was.

Eyes flashing, the gold flecks almost glowing, he scowled at her, his irritation bordering on outright anger, and she took an involuntary step back in retreat.  "Fai-sama?" she breathed, unsure just why he was so out of sorts.

He snorted.  Loudly.  "We're not done talking," he told her.  "What makes you think—?"

She made a face, quickly shook her head.  "You don't have to apologize," she said.  "I mean, nothing . . . nothing happened, so . . ."

Eyebrows shooting upward, he blinked at her for a moment.  "Nothing . . .?  You call that, 'nothing'?"

Frowning since she didn't really understand just why he sounded almost offended, she shrugged, tugging on her arm that he did not let go.  "It was nothing," she insisted, her gaze slipping away from his.  "Not really, anyway . . ."

Those eyes narrowed dangerously on her, his anger spiraling into something far more dangerous, and he erupted in a low growl.  "Not . . . really . . ." he repeated in an incredulous kind of tone.

"Saori!  Saori!"

Both of them turned to look at the youngster who was crashing through the trees, heading straight for them.  "Yuri?" she questioned as Fai let go of her arm.  "What's the matter?"

The boy shook his head, sparing a few moments to catch his breath.  "It's Sasha!  He fell out of a tree!  His leg looks strange!"

Saori didn't wait to hear more, taking off at a dead sprint as she headed back toward the campsite to retrieve her first aid kit.  No sooner had she dropped the plates back into the wooden box that they were kept in, than Dmitri hurried into camp with the eight year old in his arms.

Sasha was whimpering, but trying not to.  Dmitri sat on the log by the fire, talking in calm, quiet tones to the child.

Grabbing the bright red backpack that Saori kept stocked for emergencies, she ducked out of the girls' tent and hurried over.  "Let me see," she said, dropping to her knees before the child.

It took a few minutes for her to gently work off the boy's shoe and sock.  Sasha did his best, not to move and not to whimper, despite the few little gasps that escaped him.  Surveying the damage, and she grimaced.  Already swollen and bruising, the foot and ankle were straight, though.  "This might hurt a bit," she said, biting her lip as she gingerly took the foot, felt around to examine the bones.  To her relief, she didn't feel anything out of place.  "Can you move your toes?"

He did, his skin of his face, a little peaked, but otherwise okay.

Even so, she dug out her phone, snapped a few pictures from different angles, and sent it off to her second-cousin, who was actually more of an uncle.

A minute later, her phone rang, and she connected the call.   "Oji-chan?  You got those pictures?  It doesn't feel like anything's out of place or broken, but I wanted your opinion."

Kichiro Izayoi's warm voice came through the line.  "Hey, sweetness.  Well, it's impossible to know for sure without x-rays, but from what I can see in the images, it looks like just a really bad sprain.  One of the pups?"

"Yeah," she allowed.  "A sprain?"

"Can he move his toes?"

"Yes, but I don't think he can bear weight on it."

"Not surprising," Kichiro remarked.  "You should be all right in treating it as a sprain, at least for the rest of the day.  If he cannot bear weight on it in the morning or if the swelling gets worse, then I'd seek out a doctor.  Try to immobilize it so that his youkai-blood can heal it faster, but don't wrap it too tightly."

"Okay," she said.  "Thank you."

"Any time, Saori-chan."

The line went dead, and she dropped her phone on the ground as she smiled at the boy, who was eyeing her rather dubiously since he hadn't understood the conversation that she'd just had in Japanese.

Saori let out a deep breath of relief upon seeing the movement.  "Well, it doesn't seem to be broken," she said, reverting to Russian once more.  "If you can move your toes, it's a great sign.  It does look like it's sprained, though, but you should be back to normal in a day or two.  We'll look at it again in the morning, and if it looks worse or you can't stand on it, then we'll take you to a doctor, okay?"

"Okay," Sasha said slowly.  "I don't have to go back yet, do I?"

She laughed since Sasha made no bones about his reluctance to be made to go back home just yet.  Not surprising, given that the boy absolutely loved camping.  Digging out an ankle support and a long bandage, Saori shook her head.  "Not unless your ankle is worse in the morning," she assured him.  "Now, let's get this wrapped up, and you can take it easy for awhile."

It didn't take long to get Sasha's ankle braced and wrapped.  Settling back on her heels, Saori gave her handiwork a critical stare.  "Sasha, if the wrap starts getting uncomfortable, let us know so we can loosen it a little."

Dmitri sighed.  "Do you want to stay here or do you want to go back and watch everyone else?"

Sasha considered that, then craned his neck as he leaned back to look up at Dmitri.  "I want to watch the others!" he said.

Dmitri chuckled, shrugging as he intercepted Saori's amused expression.  "I figured," he said.

"Wait!" Saori exclaimed, digging into the first aid kit once more.  She pulled out a small bottle of ibuprofen and shook out a couple white tablets.  "Take these.  They should help the pain."

Sasha did as he was told, taking a long swallow from his canteen before making an exaggerated face.

Dmitri stood up, still holding on to Sasha.  "Thank you, Saori," he said as he started back toward the path that led a little deeper into the forest.

"Thank you!" Sasha called over Dmitri's shoulder.

"You're welcome," She replied, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest as she watched them disappear into the trees with Yuri on their heels.

"You're a nurse, too?"

Gasping softly as she spun around, only to come, face-to-face with the Asian tai-youkai, who was standing behind her, resting most of his weight on one foot, hands draped on his hips as he gazed at her with a hint of brightness in his eyes.  She blinked, stared.  He almost seemed . . . Amused . . .?

"I . . . I took first aid classes," she explained, shrugging her shoulders, ducking her chin almost nervously.  She wasn't sure why.  There was just something . . . different . . . in his expression . . . something she couldn't quite grasp . . .

He nodded, as though what she'd said made perfect sense.  "So, who did you call?" he asked.  He only sounded curious, which, she supposed, she could understand.

"Oji-chan . . . Well, one of them . . . He's a doctor.  I just figured he could tell me what he thought, and he agreed that it looked like a nasty sprain."  She grimaced.  "It's going to be sore today, but he should be okay in a couple days."

Fai slowly shook his head.  "You have way too many family members," he remarked dryly.

For some reason, that made her giggle.  "You say that like it's a bad thing," she pointed out.

He shrugged.  "I guess that depends on the family," he allowed.

She sighed, letting her arms drop in favor of picking up the first aid kit.  "Mine is pretty large," she admitted.  "Sometimes, it's hard to be a part of it, too . . ."

"How so?"

She forced a smile as she slung the strap over her shoulder.  "Oh, you know . . . Some of them just have left very large shoes to fill," she said.  "It's like . . . being born under the shadow of a great mountain, and no matter how far you reach out, you just can't step out of it and into the sunshine."

He considered that for a long moment responding. "You love your family," he pointed out slowly, almost carefully.

Pushing her hair back behind her ear, she shrugged again.  "I do," she agreed.  "I love them a lot.  It's just sometimes . . . and I feel like they're all so great that I'll never be more than just little Saori-chan . . ."

"You'll be fine," he assured her, his lips curving up in the barest hint of a smile.  "I have every faith that you'll shine brighter than any of them."

She stopped, let her head fall to the side as she blinked, as she stared at him.  He seemed genuine enough, and maybe he was just trying to make her feel better, but something about the glimmer in his eyes . . .

"I'm going to go help Dmitri with the pups," Fai said as he headed toward the path.

"Okay," she called.  "I'll be right there as soon as I put this away."

She watched him go, a secretive little smile, toying with the corners of her lips.

'You know, I think he likes you.'

She couldn't contain the blush that shot into her skin.  'Don't be silly,' she chided, pausing long enough to zip the bag closed.  'He was . . . He was just being kind . . .'

'That was not being kind, Saori.  That was a man who truly believes what he said.'

'Yep, fascinating like a science experiment,' she thought darkly.  'Once he goes back home, he won't think about me, ever again, and . . . and he'll just be a really nice memory for me.'

'Is that what you think?  You're being uncharacteristically pessimistic.'

'It's not pessimism.  It's realism.  I mean, I may not be the ugliest girl out there, but it's not like I'm anything special, either, and Fai-sama . . . He's extraordinary . . .'

'Says you.  You know, you're just as pretty as anyone else—prettier, even—and besides, it's not like everyone bases that much stock in physical appearances.'

'Yeah, except there has to be a physical attraction there or it won't matter, anyway.'

'And you don't think there is?'

'For me, maybe.  For him?' she sighed.

'I think you're out of your—What's that?'

Head snapping up as her brain registered what her youkai had noticed, she narrowed her eyes as she slowly scanned the trees on the far side of the clearing.  The wind had shifted, blowing the stranger's scent straight to her, and she thought she saw a flicker of movement.   She started forward, only to stop when a young man—maybe a couple years older than she—a wolf-youkai—stepped out of the forest.

His gaze was wild, almost panicked, scanning the area quickly until he lit on her, and he stopped short.  "You . . . You can help me!"

Saori blinked as the man strode over to her and grabbed her by the wrist.  "Wait!  Who are—?"

"Move," he growled, dragging her into the trees.

She yanked on her arm, to no avail.  The wolf was stronger than he looked, and he held onto her with a death-grip.  Uttering a harsh scream, she choked when he let go of her, only to yank her toward him, catching her around the waist uncomfortably tightly, his free hand clamping over her mouth as he hefted her off her feet and started to run . . .