InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Incarceration ( Chapter 16 )

Saori could hear herself blink in the overwhelming silence.  Staring up at the wire rack that held the netting, suspended from the ceiling over the bed, she sighed softly.

A week.

It had been a whole week since Fai had ordered Yerik to arrest her—almost five days since they'd arrived here, and yes, she realized that she was being punished for her impetuous decision to kidnap him.  Even so, she had to admit—at least, when she wasn't mad enough to spit—she was lonely.

In the last few days, she'd explored the majority of the estate, wandering around for hours, taking in the beauty that existed beyond the carefully kempt gardens.  Like her original thought when she'd first driven onto the property, she'd realized that the landscaping around the castle itself was so meticulous, so rigid—almost militaristic in feel—that she couldn't help but to be uneasy within the confines of the too-perfect yard.

And there was no one to really tell her that she couldn't venture farther.  Following the gentle stream that coursed through the garden, she'd had to stop when she found the outer wall of the estate—a high and thick cobblestone wall.  The stream flowed through a duct in the base of it, but that duct was fitted with thick iron bars, so she'd followed that wall instead.  Maybe she could have scaled it, had she really wanted to, but a part of her had to acknowledge that she really deserve to be detained for what she’d done, even if she hadn’t really had any bad intentions.

There was a lot of wildlife on the estate.  She hadn't realized that, to start with.  Nothing dangerous, no, but plenty of rabbits and birds and smaller things.  Today, she'd watched a pack of stoats for a long time as they worked and played.  It was mating season, so she'd seen some of that behavior, too.  In the end, though, she had walked back to the castle, only to learn from Vasili that Fai was exactly where he was every day: locked into the study with the door closed, attending to tai-youkai business, and Yerik?  Well, she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him in the last couple days, either.

It baffled her, actually.  Vasili had been curt and even cold those first couple days, but he had warmed to her a little bit since then.  That wasn't really the trouble, anyway.  No, what really perplexed her was exactly why she was being detained here.  After all, if she were truly being punished for kidnapping Fai, to start with, why was she staying in his house, and why was she free to go wherever she pleased?  No one had tried to stop her when she ventured outside.  No one actually talked to her at all, to tell the truth, Vasili aside.  But she hadn't seen Fai, either, not since they'd arrived and she'd watched him lead off down the hallway that led to his office moments before she was taken to the east wing.

She just wasn't used to being alone this much.  She hadn't realized just how much of a social creature she actually was, and the idea that she couldn't even contact her family just made it a little bit harder to deal with.  Too used to her family’s sometimes microscopic attention, she supposed—too accustomed to the warm and welcome smiles of her family . . . The forced isolation was hell; it really, really was . . .

She was so deep in her thoughts that she almost missed the soft knock on the door.  So soft that it might well have gone unnoticed had she been human, she frowned as she tried to decide if she had actually heard it or if it had been some sort of strange figment of her imagination.  It took her a few seconds to comprehend the almost novel idea that she really had heard the sound, and she pushed herself up on her hands as the door slowly opened.

To her surprise, Fai stepped into the darkened room, lit only by the small fire that she'd built in the fireplace to chase off the spring chill in the night air.  Clad in his regular ensemble of dark slacks and nondescript light dress shirt—this one was white—he stood just inside the door, scowling as he eyes adjusted to the dusky twilight from the brightness of the hallway beyond.

"Fai-sama," she murmured, leaning forward, drawing up her knees under the coverlet, wrapping her arms around them.

His head snapped to the side, his gaze locking with hers.  Across the distance, she couldn't rightfully discern his expression, but she felt the slight flare in his youki when he pushed the door closed softly and turned to face her, hands digging deep into his pockets as silence fell between them.

"I . . . I didn't wake you, did I?" he finally asked, his voice softer than usual.

She shook her head.  "No . . . I wasn't asleep yet."

She couldn't tell if he believed her or not, but he nodded.  "You're usually asleep by now," he went on.  Then, he sighed.  "Every night, I try to get away from work to come up and see you, and then I lose track of time.  Are you all right?"

She frowned at the implication of what he'd so casually said.  "You . . . come up here every night?"

He shrugged and turned his head.  In the brief flash of light from the dancing flames, she saw his brow furrow as a consternated expression surfaced.  "Just checking on you.  That's all.  Anyway, you're fine, so . . ."

Narrowing her gaze as she watched him turn and reach for the door knob, she couldn't help the flare of irritation that forced her to toss aside the blanket and hop out of bed.  "Fine?" she squeaked indignantly.

He looked rather perplexed.  "You aren't fine?" he asked.

She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly.  "If you call spending all day, every day alone, 'fine', then sure, I suppose," she gritted out.  Then she shook her hand, as though to take back what she'd just said.  "I'm sorry," she said, rubbing her forehead as she struggled to rein in her rioting anger.  "I guess I'm not here for a social visit, am I?"

"Welcome to my life," he grumbled, sounding almost—almost—apologetic.  "I didn't mean to leave you alone, however," he went on.  "I fell behind when someone thought I needed to go, running off to meet the orphans."

She made a face.  For some reason, what he'd said . . . It bothered her.  The idea that his entire life centered around work and nothing but . . .? But Fai, unlike her uncle, unlike her cousin's mate, didn't have anyone to help him—at least, that was the feeling she got from him . . .

Letting out a deep breath—it wasn't really a sigh, but it wasn't really not one, either—Fai shuffled toward her, nodding at the bed.  "Mind . . . Mind if I sit with you till you go to sleep?"

Surprised by his question, Saori slowly nodded and sank back down.  Fai pulled the blanket up over her before settling himself on the edge of the bed beside her.  "So . . . how long am I going to be punished for appropriating you?" she couldn't help asking as she snuggled against the fluffy pillows.

That earned her a rather calculating look.  "Until you prove that you're adequately sorry for what you did," he replied rather cryptically.

She stared at him, blinking slowly, studying his profile in the din half-light.  Hair hanging over his eyes, chestnut glimmers catching the glow in golds and deep umbers, his face was almost lost in shadows as he stared down at his hands, his eyes glimmering, shimmering in the vague dusk . . . "I am sorry for knocking you out," she allowed slowly, quietly.

He sighed.  "Somehow, I don't think you're even slightly sorry for the kidnapping," he pointed out dryly.

"How can I be when you changed your mind about defunding the orphanage?" she countered mildly.  "I suppose if I have to be detained for it, then your estate is, at the very least, a beautiful prison."

Turning his head just enough to pin her with a very droll look, Fai snorted indelicately.  "You could at least act a little contrite, don't you think?" he prompted.

"Kaa-chan always said that lying is the beginning of the end," she quipped.  "Besides, it's my policy not to lie, and if I said I was sorry, then it'd be a lie since the end result was what I was hoping for."

He slowly shook his head.  Then he laughed, which brought her up onto her elbow.  When he continued to chuckle, she leaned over, pressing her hand against his forehead.  "What are you doing?" he asked, still sounding amused while he grasped her wrist and tugged her hand down.

"Checking to see if you have a fever," she replied, tugging her hand free as she sat up, planting her hand on his forehead once more, taking her free hand to test her own forehead, too.  "You don't seem to have one . . ."

"I don't have a fever," he grouched, pulling her hand away once more, but this time, he didn't let go of her wrist.

"Then, what was so funny?" she asked, unable to contain the hint of breathlessness in her tone as she tried to ignore the curious sense of warmth that radiated straight through her from the contact.

Again, he shook his head.  "The way you see things," he told her simply.  "Right, wrong . . . entirely straight, right down the middle."

"And you don't?"

He shrugged.  "I can't."

"Have you ever seen things that way?"

"Not in a very long time," he admitted.  "Maybe never.  I was taught early on to look at things from different angles.  When you change your perspective, sometimes the lines between right and wrong can blur.  That's all."

She considered that for a moment.  She supposed that Fai had a point.  After all, being able to see a more comprehensive picture was a necessary skill for the job.  "So . . . because you're tai-youkai—because you were raised to be tai-youkai—this was part of the things you were taught . . .?"

"Something like that."

"Do you think I should work on that, too?  Try to see things a little more objectively?"

Narrowing his gaze on her for several long heartbeats, he shrugged, let go of her wrist so that he could reach up, tuck her hair back behind her ear.  "I kind of like the way you see things," he finally concluded.  Then he gave his head a little shake.  "Well, you may want to rethink your stance on kidnapping, though.  Not everyone is as lenient as I am."

"That was acquired appropriation, and I only do that when I'm desperate," she informed him haughtily, wondering vaguely if he could see the heightened color in her cheeks.

"You can try to pretty it up, Saori, but it is what it is."

"And it's my fault that you're still trying to catch up on your work, isn't it?"  She grimaced.  "I am sorry about that . . ."

"I'm caught up now," he told her.  "Tomorrow, though, I have to go to the distillery to look over a few things . . ." Trailing off for a minute, he stared at her.  "Would you like to come with me?  It's probably not very interesting for you, but . . ."

"A distillery?  What do you make there?"

"Vodka," he said.

"Your family business," she concluded.  "I'd love to see it."

He didn't look as convinced as she sounded.  "It'll probably be boring," he warned her.

She giggled and lay back down again, snuggling deep into the comfort of the thick down mattress pad, the fluffy soft pillows.  "I think it'll be interesting!"  Then she pushed herself up just a little, eyes flaring wide.  "Oh, I wanted to ask.  Did Yerik go back to school?"

"Uh, no," he said, shifting around, leaning back against the headboard and stretching out his legs, crossed at the ankles.  "I sent him on a hunt, actually."

"You did?"

He grimaced, almost as though he thought that what he'd done was a bad, bad thing.  "I still don't know if it's a good idea, but . . . but I can't really tell him what he can and cannot do . . . If I don't give him the job, then he might decide to go ask one of the other tai-youkai if they have an opening . . . At least, here, I can keep an eye on him . . ."

"I think he'll be fine," she replied.  "He's smart, and he's proved that he's more than capable.  I mean, he was able to locate you without much trouble, right?  So, that has to mean something."

Fai didn't look convinced.  "It should be an easy enough hunt.  Well, as far as hunts go, anyway.  This guy's an idiot, so it shouldn't be hard to locate him or to . . ." He grimaced.  "Sorry.  You don't want to hear about this."

"Oji-chan is a hunter," she ventured.   When he looked confused, she smiled.  "His wife is the mechanic."

"Weird," he muttered, shaking his head.  "Your family is an odd one . . . Guess it makes sense, why you'd think it was perfectly all right to kidnap me, in the first place."

She snorted, but not before she felt hot color flood into her cheeks.  "I'll have you know that no one else in my family has ever appropriated another person, ever."

He snorted, and even in the dim light, she thought she saw him smile just a little.  "So, it's just you."

She nodded.  "That's right . . . Did you really have a terrible time?"

He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed and slowly shook his head.  "Truthfully?  No.  No, I didn't have a bad time," he admitted.  "It's the closest I've had to any kind of vacation in . . . years . . ."

"That's a little sad," she told him.  Suddenly, she giggled.  "Maybe I ought to appropriate you again—take you on a real vacation, Your Grace."

He grimaced.  "Don't call me that," he grumbled.  "I don't want to hear that; not from you, anyway."

"You don't?"

He shook his head.  "No."

She frowned thoughtfully, unsure why he would say that.  After all, it was the proper way to address him here.  So, why did it bother him when she did it . . .?

"Anyway, I can't just pick up and leave, as much as I'd like to sometimes.  Too many people rely on me."

He sounded so . . . resigned, as though it were something he'd come to terms with a long time ago.  "You know, why do you have to do everything alone?" she asked, thinking about her family, about the ways in which the tai-youkai had delegated responsibilities so that they weren't spread too thin.  She wasn't sure why Asia was so different, especially when it was an even bigger area to deal with.  "I mean, why don't you have generals to assist you?"

"It's not that simple," he told her with a heavy breath.  "It's not that I couldn't do that as much as there's really no one that I trust enough to allow them to have that much power."

"Is it so bad?"

Fai shot her a dark look.  "Exactly one week after I took over as tai-youkai, I was challenged for the first time—by one of my father's trusted advisors who didn't think I was strong enough to be tai-youkai."

She shook her head.  "I thought that they supported you . . ."

He seemed surprised that she'd know that much, but he shook his head.  "They pretended to," he allowed.  "Most of them, I found out later, were plotting in secret if they didn't challenge me outright.  A couple of them approached another youkai who they thought could defeat me.  They were wrong, of course, but he told me before I finished him that they had sworn their allegiance to him . . ."

"That's terrible," she murmured, reaching out to touch his hand.  He blinked, almost startled, staring down at her hand on his.  "If you could find others you could trust, though . . ."

"That's a huge, 'if'," he told her.  "If I could, then yes, I could delegate some of the responsibilities."

He sounded almost wistful, didn't he?  Whether he realized it or not, he really did wish that he could loosen his hold.  The problem wasn't that he was set to do it all himself, she thought.  No, it was more that he really, honestly, had no idea, just who he could trust . . . and that . . . It was sad . . .

It occurred to her, staring at him, just how weary he seemed.  It was the same sort of expression she'd seen on his face in the very beginning, but, she realized now, that he had lost it as the days had gone on.  That it was back already . . .?

"Fai-sama?"

"Sama," he echoed with a rather sardonic sort of chuckle.  "You know, you don't have to use that for me, either."

She smiled wanly.  "Then, what would you prefer that I call you?"

He seemed a little surprised by her frank question.  Then he shrugged.  "Just, 'Fai' would be fine, Saori," he told her.  "Just my name; that's all."

"That seems a little . . . intimate," she muttered, wrinkling her nose, willing her cheeks not to redden any more.

"Yes, well, given that you've knocked me out, kidnapped me, dragged me off to the orphanage, and then kissed me?  I'd say that calling me by name alone isn't really that much of a stretch."

She giggled at his overly dry tone.  She couldn't help it, considering she also recognized the underlying teasing quality, too.  "Okay, um, Fai . . . But I'd prefer, 'appropriated'."

"I call 'em like I see 'em, Saori," he shot back, but the stern note in his voice was entirely undermined when he chuckled a moment later.

She sighed and let her hand drop away from his.  "Fai?"

"Hmm?" he intoned, rubbing his eyes in a tired kind of way.

"Would it be too forward for me to ask you to stay with me?  Just till I fall asleep?"

"Why's that?"

She shrugged and snuggled down deeper into the bed as her eyes drifted closed.  "Too quiet at night," she murmured, feeling the edges of sleep, creeping up on her.  "Too lonely . . ."

He didn't answer her right away, but the bed shifted as he scooted down, as he stretched out beside her.  The only sounds were the crackle of the fire, the soft ticking of the mantle clock as the seconds passed by.

In the stillness, she thought that she felt his arm slip around her, drawing her closer, thought maybe she felt him sigh, and maybe, just maybe, she thought that she felt the warmth of his lips, pressed against her forehead.

And she smiled.