InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Goodbyes ( Chapter 13 )

"You're a beautiful woman, Saori.  That's more than reason enough."

Lying in bed, staring at the cracked and discolored ceiling in the half-dark, Saori let out a deep breath as those words—Fai's words—tumbled around in her head.

What did he mean by that?

'Well, Saori-chan, I'd say that it's simple enough.  It means that he thinks you're beautiful.'

Her youkai-voice's observation made her scowl darken.  'But . . . But he said it so nonchalantly . . . like he was talking about the weather or . . . or something . . .'

'But he did say it, and that means something.  You don't just randomly say that about someone unless you actually think so.'

Saori wasn't so convinced.  After all, she'd spent a good hour, staring in a mirror after she'd taken a long shower.  She hadn't seen a thing that she would have put into the category of 'beautiful', anyway . . .

'That's just because you look at yourself every single day and have since you were old enough to realize that your reflection was your reflection.  You see what you see, and it's easy to think that it it's ordinary.  It'd be a little weird if you actually realized how you might look to someone else.'

'If that were true, then why didn't guys pay attention to me . . . well, ever . . .?' she challenged.

'Maybe they did, and you just never noticed, Saori.'

She made a face, yanking the thin blanket up under her chin.  'Oh, I think I would have noticed on all those Saturday nights, spent at home, doing nothing . . .'

Her youkai-voice snorted in a very unladylike manner.  'Except you weren't ever at home, alone, doing nothing on Saturday nights.  There was always something going on, and that's what you were doing.'

All right, so there was some truth in that.  Life was never really boring around her family, that was for sure.  Even so . . .

'Anyway, plenty of guys looked at you.  Thing was, none of them were worth your time, so it seemed kind of pointless to waste time on them.'

Saori heaved a sigh.  She wasn't entirely sure she agreed with her voice, after all.  Maybe if she'd had one or two boyfriends along the way, even if they weren't 'The One', then she wouldn't feel so awkward sometimes, would she?

The buzz of her cell phone, rattling against the nightstand, drew her attention, and she grabbed it before it worked itself onto the floor.  Seeing the name on the caller ID, she bit her lip, debated for all of a moment, whether or not she should answer it, but in the end, she connected the call and lifted the phone to her head.  "Nii-chan," she greeted, hoping he couldn't hear anything amiss in her tone of voice.  "Is everything okay?  It's a little late . . ."

Rinji grunted.  "I hadn't heard from you in a week?  More?  So, I figured I'd better find out if you were in jail or something . . ."

She grimaced.  "Nope, no jail," she told him.  "I will be coming home soon, though . . ."

"Oh?"

Saori sat up with a sigh, her attempt at light banter falling away in an instant.  "I'm losing my job," she finally admitted.  "Fai-sama is going to allow the home to stay open, but in order to do so, they have to cut some of the staff, and since I was the last one to be hired . . ."

"Is this some kind of retaliation for the kidnapping?"

"No, and I didn't kidnap him—I appropriated him," she insisted quickly, only to frown for a long moment.  "Well, I don't think so, anyway . . ."

"You . . .?  Just what the hell does that mean?" Rinji growled.

"It means that I suggested—strongly—that he come meet the children, is all," she said.  "Anyway, it has nothing to do with it—I don't think . . . No, if Fai-sama wanted me fired, he would have just said so.  He's too honorable to do something devious like that."

"And how would you know that, Saori?" Rinji challenged.  "You barely know him—hell, as far as I can tell, no one really knows him.  Gives ojii-sama a run for his money in the stoic department from what I hear."

"He's not like that at all," Saori argued.  "He's just . . . I mean, once you get to know him?  He's . . . He's very warm, very . . . Well, I don't think 'sweet' is a good way to describe him, but he's . . ."

Rinji didn't say anything for a minute, but he did heave a very long, very loud sigh.  "Saori . . ."

"I met his brother, too—well, not really."  She made a face.  "I met him, of course.  He showed up after I was kidnapped by this wolf-youkai to treat his cousin who was shot, and—"

"What?  Wait, what?"

"It wasn't exactly a kidnapping," Saori explained.  "He was just too worried about his cousin that he explained it after he grabbed me, is all . . ."

"He—? Really."

"Nii-san . . ."

Rinji grunted.  "All right; all right. You're okay, obviously, so . . ." He trailed off with a sigh.  "So, do you know when we should expect you home?"

She giggled suddenly, refusing to feel bad, or at least, refusing to let her brother see how bad she felt about the idea of being let go.  "Soon," she replied, inflicting enough happiness in her tone to keep Rinji from seeing right through it.  "Probably in the next week or so?  I guess, anyway."

"That quickly?"

Rubbing her forehead, she bit her lip.  "They need to keep their funding," she replied.  "It's a good thing—a great thing," she blurted, focusing on the silver lining.

Rinji blew out a deep breath, and she heard the clink of ice cubes in a glass.  "Give me a call and let me know when you're coming back then," he told her.  "And kaa-san says to give her a call soon.  She misses hearing your voice."

Saori grimaced since she hadn't called her mother in a few weeks.  It wasn't intentional, no, but she hadn't gotten a chance to since she'd gotten back from appropriating Fai . . . "I will," she promised.  "Tell kaa-chan and tou-chan that I miss them, too."

"Will do," he said.  "I'll tell them that you're coming home soon."

"Oh, no, don't!"

"Why not?"

She giggled again.  "I kind of want to surprise them."

He sighed.  "If that's what you want.  Talk to you later."

The line went dead, and Saori's smile faded.  She let the phone fall onto the coverlet beside her as she leaned forward, wrapped her arms around her raised knees.  Everything about this room was humble, just like the rest of the facility.  The floors creaked, the paint was chipped, the furnishings were cheap and falling apart, and yet, the warmth that permeated every inch of the place touched her—something she would miss like crazy . . . She might well get a better paying job, might work at a nicer place, but she had a feeling that she'd never experience the same sense, no matter where she ended up . . .

'It's more than that, Saori . . . What about Fai-sama?'

Brows drawing together as she pondered her youkai's question, she scrunched up her shoulders.  'Fai-sama . . .'

A strange sort of chill ran up her spine, and she rubbed her arms.

She didn't know why she felt that way . . . or did she . . .?

Fai stared at the flames, dancing on the hearth.  He'd lit it more out of the need to do something than anything else since it wasn't really cold tonight.  Settling on the end of the creaky bed, he frowned.

Why was he feeling so entirely unsettled?

'Don't answer that.'

'Why not?  Why don't you want to think about why you might feel that way?'

Fai's scowl darkened, the firelight pooling in his eyes, lending them a flash, a glow . . . 'What am I supposed to say when I have no idea?'

'Do you think Saori's sleeping?'

Glancing at the small travel clock on the nightstand, Fai let out a deep breath as he stood up, as he wandered over to the smudged window.  It wasn't dirty, no, but it was so old that the glass was starting to take on that milky sort of sheen around the edges—the kind that would never wash away, no matter how vigorously it was scrubbed.  'It's almost midnight . . . She's got to be sleeping already . . .'

'I don't know.  Maybe she's not.  Besides, I think Yerik was wanting to leave in the morning, so if that's the case . . .'

That thought was enough make him pivot on his heel, to stalk over to the door.  He was just reaching out to grab the knob when a curt knock drew him up short, and he made a face.  "Come," he called, sensing Yerik's youki through the thin wood, altering his course as he strode back to the end of the bed once more.

The door squeaked, groaned, as his brother slipped into the room and closed the door behind himself while Fai sank down again.  "The area seems secure.  I took the liberty of running it, just to make sure.  Everything should be fine, and I gave Director Bostoyev my cell number in case he cannot reach you . . . We can leave in the morning."

Fai leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, tapping his fingertips together slowly, methodically.

"Fai . . .?  Fai . . .?"

"What's that?" Fai said, blinking as he slowly turned his face, just far enough to peer up at Yerik.

Yerik's emerald green eyes narrowed as he gave his head a slight shake.  "Fai, what's gotten into you?  Ever since I found you, you've been acting . . . different."

"Different?  How so?"

"You tell me."

"Don't know what you're talking about," Fai grumbled, wishing for the world that he had a shot of vodka—anything—that might take the edge off of the unrest that was plaguing him.  Unfortunately, the only thing here was maybe kvass, and that didn't have enough alcoholic content to do a damn thing.

"Oh, don't you?  What is it about Saori that has gotten to you so badly?  You're sarcastic, grouchy, short-tempered, impatient . . . You're never like this."

Fai snorted.  "Nothing at all," he forced himself to say.

Yerik shook his head.  "Fai, you know, I—"

"You did well," Fai interrupted, partly to shut Yerik up, partly because it was the truth.

"I did?" Yerik echoed, golden eyebrows disappearing under the thick fringe of his bangs.

Fai nodded.  "You did," he allowed.  "You tracked me down without any real leads, found me in the forest . . . took care of the wolf-youkai . . . You did very well, actually."

For a moment, Yerik seemed surprised by the praise.  Then he broke into a somewhat embarrassed sort of lopsided smile.  "Thank you, Fai."

"You're welcome."

Yerik paced the floor a few times.  Fai could almost hear the gears, turning in his mind, and he braced himself for what he knew was coming, but he'd opened the door, so to speak . . . "Good enough to be a hunter?"

'And there it is, Fai . . .'

"We'll see," Fai replied entirely noncommittally.  "You're only eighteen, Yerik.  Finish the university first, then we'll talk about it."

Yerik stared at him.  "That's just your way of trying to put me off," he said.  "What's the point of finishing the university if I have no interest in anything but hunting?"

Fai sighed.  "It's something Father never would have wanted you to do."

"Yeah, well, Father's not here, and you aren't him.  I'm not saying that to be an ass, Fai.  It's just that you don't get to tell me what I am or am not qualified to do.  It’s my life, and I want to do this.  I . . . I need to do this."

“I just . . . Let me think about it,” Fai replied.

Yerik didn’t look at all pleased about it, but he gave one jerky, curt nod.  “I’m not a child, Fai,” he said quietly.  “I know that you worry, but if I didn’t think I could do it, I never would have brought it up.  It’s not something I just decided on a whim.  I’ve thought about it for years—years . . .”

“I know,” Fai admitted with a scowl, with a grumble.  “You’re not given to being impetuous.”

“No, I’m not.  It’s just this feeling—this . . . Well, I suppose you could say that it just feels like a compulsion.  I know it’s not a pleasant job or one that most would ever want.  You are Father’s son—born and raised to be tai-youkai.  I’m not, but I feel this . . . this need to help you protect the legacy that Father and his father before him created, and if I can do that—if I can make your burden just a little easier to bear . . .”

“But it’s not your problem, Yerik,” Fai insisted, knowing deep down that his brother’s mind was already made up.  “If I somehow gave you the impression that I expected you to do anything that you don’t want to do—”

“It wasn’t you,” Yerik said.  “I mean, I guess it was to an extent, but it really wasn’t anything you ever said or did.  It was . . . It was years of watching you as you took time out to entertain me, and the look on your face as you turned away—the burdens that I didn’t understand until later . . . I saw it, even when you didn’t want me to.  I saw it, and . . . and it isn’t all on you.  It never should have been.  This—being a hunter—this is what I can do.  This is what I want to do.”

Fai opened his mouth to argue with Yerik, but snapped it closed with a frustrated sigh.

Yerik strode over to the door, paused with his hand on the handle.  Fai could feel the agitation in Yerik's youki, but at the moment, he just wasn't ready to delve into it any further—not now, not tonight, and as much as he wished it were otherwise, Yerik’s words, his quiet conviction . . . He could understand it, too.  He’d seen it—sensed it—in their father.  He understood it all just a little too well.  "Anyway, we'll get going in the morning," Yerik said, his tone, tight, clipped.  "If we take turns driving, it won't take too long to get back home.  Then I can go back to the university, since that's where you are dying for me to be."

Fai nodded as his brother slipped out of the room once more, leaving him alone with his troubled thoughts and answers that he just couldn't grasp, not yet.

"I can't believe that they're letting you go," Dmitri commented with a frown as he watched Saori pack the canvas duffle bag she'd brought with her when she'd first arrived to take the job at the home.

"It's okay," she said, sparing a moment to smile brightly at her friend—a friend she would miss terribly.

He wasn't buying, and his expression darkened, his neck length black bangs, hanging into his eyes, as he crossed his arms over his chest.  "It's not okay," he retorted, arching a jet-black eyebrow, his lips curling into a cynical sort of sneer.  "The children love you, and you love them.  They're going to be heartbroken, you know."

Her smile faltered, but she held on.  "As long as the home stays open, I have no complaints," she said, brushing past him to gather more things from the dresser.  "Besides, I'm not the only one they have to let go."

"I know," Dmitri said.  "I barely avoided it."

Saori's smile waned as she leaned against the dresser for a minute.  "I'll miss you, though," she admitted.

Dmitri nodded and held out his arm.  She hesitated for only a moment before stepping over, accepting the hug he offered.  "So, what will you do now, Saori?" he asked, giving her shoulders a brisk squeeze.

She sighed, squeezing him back before turning to resume packing.  "Well, I was offered a position back home before I accepted this one.  I doubt it's still open, but I'm sure I can find something there.  I just . . . I liked the feeling that I was really needed here, I guess."

"And you won't feel like that somewhere else?"

"No, I'm sure I will," she replied.  "Maybe not as much, but I'll be fine . . ."

Dmitri looked like he wanted to argue with her, but he must have figured that there wasn't a point, other than making her feel worse.  Wandering over to the window, he leaned against the frame, staring down at the front of the facility.

"You'll keep me updated, won't you?  About the children?" she asked, bumping an empty drawer closed with her hip before stepping back over to the bed.

"Yeah, sure," he said, leaning down to peer out the window a little closer.  "Oh, is His Grace going to give you a ride to the airport?"

Frowning as she dropped the clothing on the bag, she hurried over and ducked under his arm to see what he was looking at.  Down in the cracked pavement below, Yerik and Fai were standing by the car that Yerik had driven, along with Director Bostoyev.  The car doors were open, waiting, and Saori slowly shook her head.  "No," she admitted.  "They're . . . They're leaving . . .?"

"Looks like it," Dmitri commented.

Saori didn't stop to think.  She wheeled around and took off at a sprint, reacting on instinct as a strange sense of trepidation surged through her.  She didn't stop to question it as she raced down the hallway, down the stairs, grimacing when she smacked into the front door since it didn't swing outward.

"Fai-sama!" she called, stepping outside, struggling to catch her breath as the men turned to look at her.

Something about the finality of seeing him, ready to get into that car, to drive away from her forever dislodged something deep inside her, and she very nearly choked as panic, so deep, so raw, exploded in her.

'Do something, Saori!  Do something before he leaves!  Once he gets into that car and drives away, he'll be gone—beyond your reach!  You're never going to see him again, you know?  At least . . . At least . . .'

And she didn't stop to think, didn't consider what, if any, ramifications might well accompany her actions.  Dashing across the short porch, down the two steps to the cracked and disheveled sidewalk, across the walk, the grass, the broken pavement of the driveway, she threw herself into Fai's arms—he barely had time to catch her—her arms snaking around his neck, pulling him down at the same time that she rose up on tip-toe, her lips smashing against his in a clumsy and awkward kiss that still shot straight through her, straight to the heart of her, with a sigh, a breath, a deluging brilliance.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, it registered that he hadn't fought her at all, that he had done nothing to warn her off, to push her back—had, in fact, wrapped his arms around her—and was holding her so tightly that she almost couldn't breathe . . . All of it, every last bit, she committed to memory, knowing deep down that an hour from now, a day from now, a year from now, ten years . . . It would all be gone, everything but this moment—this one insular breath of time—that would stay in her heart forever . . .

A blatant throat-clearing intruded, snapping her out of her bemusement, and she gasped, her face exploding in crimson color as she stumbled back a step, as her hands flew up to hover over her mouth when her eyes flared wide.  A strong hand caught her—she didn't know who and didn't look.  Fai's expression was entirely unreadable, as he stared at her, his brows furrowed slightly, as though he were trying to see into her head.

"I-I-I—" she began, only to be cut off when Fai held up a hand.

Then he turned his head, stared at his brother for several long moments.  "Hunter," he said, addressing Yerik, whose eyes widened at the word Fai used.  "As your first act as my hunter, I order you to place this woman under arrest."

Yerik blinked.  "For kissing you?"

That earned him a narrow-eyed look.  "No, for kidnapping the Asian tai-youkai.  Put her in the car."