InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Sour ( Chapter 22 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Tapping the button to end the intercom connection of his cell phone, Inutaisho Sesshoumaru pushed away from the desk and stood up to wander over to the tall bank of windows that overlooked the garden behind the mansion situated on the outskirts of Tokyo.  It was a warm and sun-drenched, late spring day, and yet, he couldn’t quite shake the strange feeling that something was happening—something that he just couldn’t see . . . Just out of the range of his perception, it felt like something that was whispered on the wind more than an actual, concrete sense, and as normal as everything was, it was a foreboding that he simply could not shake . . .

There was nothing at all to suggest that anything was amiss, but over the years, Sesshoumaru had learned to give credence to this feeling.  It wasn’t something that happened often, but that didn’t matter, either.  The times when he’d felt it before, he’d always come to realize later that it was a warning.

But why?

It was that same feeling that had led him to call Cain, the North American tai-youkai, who had assured him that everything was fine on that side of things.  Then he’d placed calls to Australia, South America, Africa, and even Europe, despite knowing that there really was no way that MacDonnough was going to tell him much of anything, and he was right.  The only tai-youkai he hadn’t called, as a matter of fact . . .

‘Faine-san . . .’

‘And will we call him . . .?’

Frowning slightly at the question posed by his youkai-voice, Sesshoumaru didn’t move toward the desk, either, as his gaze swept over the rolling lawn outside.

“Tou-chan, are you busy?”

Brushing aside the unsettling thoughts for the moment, he didn’t turn to acknowledge his daughter’s intrusion.  “Aiko,” he said.  “I always have time for you.”

She laughed, and for a brief moment, the long-past chime of her childish giggles echoed in his head.  He’d always loved the sound, and he appreciated the more mature tone as she’d grown older, too.  Still, the memory was enough to bring a fleeing sense of moments long past.  “Kaa-chan asked me to see if there was anyone else you wanted to add to the guest list for the fundraiser before she finalizes it and submits the list to the printer.”

“Not that I can think of,” he allowed, finally turning away from the window, though he made no move to return to his desk.  “I’m sure Kagura’s list is fine.”

Peering down at the slim-file in her hands, she tucked a long strand of silver hair behind her ear before nudging her wire-rimmed glasses up her nose with a crooked finger.  “Okay . . . Oh, I know we normally don’t send invitations to our overseas relatives, but Gin-chan mentioned that Evan would be in Japan around that time on his world tour.  Should we send him one?”

Gritting his teeth, Sesshoumaru let out a deep breath.  “That one . . .”

Aiko laughed.  “He behaves himself very well when he’s representing family,” she reminded him.

Sesshoumaru’s expression said quite plainly that he wasn’t entirely in agreement with his daughter’s statement.  “I suppose it can’t be helped,” he allowed.

Aiko nodded, settling in a chair across from the desk to type in Evan’s name on the guest list.  “All right.”

Striding back to his desk once more, Sesshoumaru sank down, propping his elbows on the armrests, tapping the tips of his fingers together slowly, methodically.  “How is Saori?”

Aiko’s smile dimmed slightly, and she sighed as she met her father’s gaze.  “Well, she’s fine,” she began, very obviously choosing her words.

“Is she still upset with me?”

“She’s not upset with you . . .”

Sesshoumaru raised an eyebrow.  “So, she hasn’t been referring to me as ‘ojii-sama’?”

Aiko wrinkled her nose.  “Well, there’s that . . .” she admitted.

Sesshoumaru nodded.  “It makes no sense.  She was arrested—granted, Faine had every right to do that, given the situation.  She barely said two words to me, the whole trip home, and she hasn’t spoken to me since, even when delivering files for Toga.”

Aiko slowly shook her head.  “Maybe . . . Maybe she didn’t want to come home . . . Or maybe . . .” Aiko sighed.

“Maybe . . .?” he prompted when she trailed off.

Scrunching up her shoulders, she licked her lips.  “Maybe she . . . didn’t want to be . . . rescued.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Aiko.  She was arrested.”

“But she said that he never treated her like a prisoner,” Aiko pointed out.

Frown deepening as he considered his daughter’s words, Sesshoumaru nodded slowly.  “Toga said that Faine called him a few days ago—wanted Saori’s phone number.”

“Did he give it to him?”

“Of course not,” Sesshoumaru replied.  “No, I don’t like it.  There’s something strange going on.  I feel it.  I’m not sure, however, what to make of it.”

“Your feeling?”

He nodded once.

Aiko nodded, too.  “Well, it could be nothing at all,” she allowed rather philosophically.  “But then, I don’t think they were together long enough to really get a good grasp of the situation, either.  Maybe it’s as simple as a little unfinished business.”

Sesshoumaru stared at Aiko for a long moment. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” she replied.  “I just know that Saori . . .”

“Saori, what?”

Blinking away her reverie, Aiko forced a smile as she pushed herself out of the chair.  “Oh, nothing,” she replied brightly and held up the slim-file.  “I’ll leave this with kaa-chan.”

He watched her go, his frown deepening thoughtfully.  He wasn’t obtuse enough not to realize that Aiko was most certainly keeping part of it from him, but that wasn’t the issue; not really.  His children and grandchildren were entitled to their privacy, and if they wanted to tell him things, they would.  He knew this, and he allowed it, and whatever was going on in this situation should be handled in the same way, but . . .

But the idea of Saori, getting caught up in something that could potentially cost her her freedom?  Sesshoumaru wasn’t entirely sure that it was a price he was willing to sit back and watch her pay, either . . .

Even so . . .


“Why haven’t you closed the orphanage?”

Settling back in the comfortable chair as he stared into the glass of vodka in his hand, Fai didn’t move his head as he shifted his gaze to meet Evgeni’s, who was settled on the sofa across from him in the sparsely decorated receiving room.  “I found that I could keep it open,” he replied in a tone that should have indicated that the subject wasn’t open to debate.

Evgeni’s thoughtful frown darkened.  “For how long, Fai?” he asked, shaking his head.

“They cut their budget by a third.  It’ll be fine,” Fai insisted, “and it isn’t open to debate.”

Evgeni sighed at the set-down, but, true to form, he didn’t let it go.  To be honest, Fai would have been surprised if he had . . . “I know it was your dear mother’s pet project,” he said, his tone taking on a certain reverence that only colored his voice when he dared to bring up Fai’s late parents, especially his mother.  “You’re spreading yourself so thin, though . . . You can’t keep all these programs on the books and think that it’ll be all right.”

“I know my budget well enough,” Fai responded tightly.  “You don’t have to worry about it.  It’s my responsibility, not yours.”

Settling back, Evgeni stared at him for a long moment.  “What’s bothering you?” he finally asked.  “You seem so tense, so . . .”

“Everything’s fine,” Fai insisted once more, downing the vodka, willing his noticeably short fuse to even out.  “I just have things on my mind.  That’s all.”

“Like Yerik?  Are you sure that it’s a good idea, sending him out on hunts?”

“Yerik is capable, and it’s what he’s chosen to pursue,” Fai said.

“He’s so young . . .”

“I would not send him out if I didn’t have every confidence that he can handle it,” Fai remarked.  “He’s already gone on a couple hunts, and he’s done very well.”

Evgeni didn’t look entirely convinced.  “If you’re certain . . . I mean, at this point, he is your heir . . .”

“Are you questioning my decisions, Gen?”

Blinking quickly, the older man had the grace to flush at the very obvious set-down.  “Of course not, Fai.  I just worry what your father would have said . . .”

“I didn’t make the decision on a whim,” Fai went on.  Then he sighed, thumping the empty glass on the table with a heavy clatter to emphasize the closing of the topic.  “By the way, there was something I wanted you to look into for me.”

“Oh?  What’s that?”

“While I was . . . away . . . my accounts were frozen.  They said that it was because of a charge they’d questioned, which was fine, but they froze all of my accounts, not just my personal one.  I’d like you to see if there was something they weren’t telling me, given that you work at the bank . . .”

“Oh . . . All right,” he agreed.  “I’ll see what I can find out.”

Fai stood up when Evgeni did, stepping over to walk the older man to the door.  “I appreciate it,” he said.

Evgeni waved off Fai’s thanks.  “It’s my job, right?  Is there anything else you require of me?”

“No,” Fai said.

“I’ll call when I find anything out,” he offered.  Then he inclined his head before slipping out of the foyer.

The heavy thud of the closing door echoed in the quiet, and Fai let out a deep breath.  Luckily, the repairs on his office had been completed a few days ago, so he hadn’t had to explain that.

He frowned.  Just why was it that he was so reluctant to talk about Saori?  For some reason, there was such an intensely personal feeling whenever he thought about her that the idea of sharing her, even just in speech . . . It bothered him.

‘Because you want to keep her for yourself?’

Scowling as he strode down the hallway that led to the office, Fai dug his phone out of his pocket, scrolled through the pictures in the memory to find the one of Saori that he hadn’t seen before she left.  Taken at the distillery during their visit, he hadn’t realized that she’d gotten a hold of his phone at some point, long enough to snap a silly picture of herself, complete with the white paper hairnet that everyone was required to wear in the facility.

She was smiling sweetly, her eyes uncannily bright—a little vague, slightly reddened since she was already quite drunk, but she was leaning against a thick wood table . . . He’d found the selfie quite by accident while looking for an image that Yerik sent him.

He didn’t want to share her picture with anyone, either.

It really wasn’t any kind of feeling that he wanted to keep her for himself, though.  No, it was more of a feeling that the more of her he gave away, the less of her would remain with him, if that made any sense . . .

‘Fai . . .’

Closing the doors behind himself, he paused just for a moment before sending the image to the printer.  ‘Hmm?’

His youkai-voice heaved a sigh.  ‘I miss her . . . I miss her a lot . . .’

Fai didn’t respond to that.  He didn’t have to.  There wasn’t a point to it, anyway, was there?  He’d already tried everything he could, including pulling her number off her old phone.  Unfortunately, her number was changed—which didn’t honestly surprise him, but did frustrate him, just the same.  He’d even broken down and called Dmitri at the orphanage, but he said that he hadn’t heard from Saori since she was so unceremoniously arrested, and that just figured, too.

No, he thought with an inward sigh as he waited for the printer to finish.  There wasn’t any point to whining about what he simply couldn’t change . . .

And there really was no point at all in admitting that, yes . . . He missed her, too . . .


Tapping twice against the doorframe of the bright and airy office, Saori took a step back to wait.  This was her last errand of the day for Toga, and she sighed.

“Come in.”

She pushed against the door that was already open a crack before stepping inside the room she knew well enough.  “Oji-chan sent this over,” she said, striding forward, the soft soles of her house shoes whispering, scuffling against the polished wood floor.  “He said that there’s no rush, but that he would like your opinion on the matter.”

Sesshoumaru nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing just a little on her face.  “Arigatou gozaimashita,” he said, holding out an articulated hand to take the file from her.  She handed it over and bowed before she turned to go.

He was faster.  “Take a seat, Saori,” he said, his tone leaving no room for her to argue with him.  Seeing no way around it, she reluctantly sank into the nearest chair, crossing her ankles demurely, hands clasped in her lap as she waited for him to continue.  He regarded her with maddening meticulousness that made her want to fidget.  She didn’t.

Finally, he sat back, setting the file aside as he continued to regard her with that unsettling gaze that had made lesser men crumble.  “Talk to me, my grandchild.  Tell This Sesshoumaru what it is that you’re thinking.”

“Everything’s fine,” she blurted, gaze falling away as a surge of heat washed into her cheeks.

“Is that so?”

She jerked her head once in a nod.  “Yes . . .”

He considered that for a moment, nodding very slowly.  “Then tell me why you have been referring to me as, ‘-sama’.”

She made a face for a split second.   “You didn’t really have to tear Fai-sama’s home apart,” she grumbled, latching onto the most readily available excuse.

“And yet, that was not my doing, but your hot-headed jii-chan,” he pointed out reasonably.  “I trust you’ve seen the results of his wielding of Tetsusaiga to differentiate as much.  Truth, Saori.”

She sighed, scrunching up her shoulders in a rather pathetic shrug as she let go of all pretenses to the contrary and dug the toe of her slipper against the plush Persian rug under her feet.  “The only thing he did was to take away my cell phone,” she finally muttered, bringing her gaze up to meet Sesshoumaru’s, as though she were daring him to call her a liar.

“Is that so?”

She nodded again.  “Yes . . .”

He shifted his mouth sideways, considering what she said, and then he licked his lips before speaking, but his tone was more thoughtful, as though he were hearing—really hearing—what she was saying.  “Is there . . . something between the two of you?  Something you haven’t mentioned?”

Again, she could feel the blossom of heat under her skin as she quickly shook her head.  “Uh, n-n-no,” she blurted, her gaze skittering away, only to dart back and then slip to the side once more.  “I-I mean, he . . . he said I was . . . was beautiful, but it wasn’t like he . . . wasn’t like he really meant it in that kind of way . . .”

Eyebrows rising to disappear under the fringe of his parted bangs, Sesshoumaru lowered his chin slightly.  “Did he?”

She flinched.  “He was just warning me,” she admitted.

“Warning you about what?”

It took her a moment to gather her thoughts, and she sighed.  “It was just because of the wolves.  He thought that they’d taken me for . . . Well, I don’t know why, but he only wanted me to help his cousin who had been shot, so . . .” She made a face.  “Anyway, that’s why.”

“Wolves, Saori?”

It occurred to her that she was borderline-babbling, and she nodded.  “When we took the children camping—it was kind of my way of saying goodbye to them—a wolf-youkai showed up because he’d seen me give first aid to one of the children who twisted his ankle.  He grabbed me and dragged me off, but he just wanted me to help his cousin, was all . . . Fai-sama and his brother found me and, well, I guess you could say they rescued me, even though I didn’t need rescuing . . .”

Sesshoumaru stared hard at her for a long minute.  Then he choked out a terse laugh.  “I have no idea, just how you manage to find so much trouble, Saori,” he said, though he wasn’t unkind.  If anything, he sounded entirely amused.  “And that’s when Fai told you that you’re beautiful.”

She nodded.  “Yes.”

“But then, he had you arrested.”

She grimaced since there were just some things that she had no desire at all to tell her great and mighty grandfather, and the idea that she was forward enough to kiss Fai?  That was one of those things.  “Well, yes . . .”

“But there’s nothing going on between the two of you.”

“N-No . . .”

He still seemed rather amused, even though Saori had no idea why that might be.  In the end, however, he nodded.  Saori bit her lip.  Sure, she was still a little irritated at the way her family had chosen to intervene.  Even so, a part of her really could understand their reasoning, even if she didn’t like it, and her grandfather?  Sesshoumaru wasn’t the kind of person who was used to sitting around and doing nothing when it involved one of his own, and she supposed she could understand that, too . . . “Stop in and say hello to obaa-chan before you leave,” he told her.

She let out a deep breath, sensing that the worst of the impromptu interrogation was over.  “I will,” she promised, rising to her feet.  She moved toward the door, but stopped before letting herself out of the office.  “I’m going now . . . ojii-chan.”

He smiled just a little as she slipped out of the room.