InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Slow Burn ( Chapter 23 )

The tick of the clock echoed in the silence with a rhythm and unrelenting drumming that was enough to drive her insane.

It was like this every night.

Letting out a deep breath, Saori blinked as she stared up into the darkness, her arms crossed over her stomach on top of the duvet.  She could hear herself blink.

Almost three weeks.

It had been nearly three weeks since she’d returned home, back to the safety and familiarity of this place.  This room used to bring her such solace, especially when she was feeling particularly down, when she’d tried to figure out why boys never noticed her, when she had done poorly on an important exam or something like that.

Now?

Now it wasn’t nearly the same, and the trouble was, she didn’t know why.

Odd, too, was the conspicuous silence of her normally verbose youkai-voice.  She wasn’t entirely sure what it meant.

‘If you must know, I’ve been thinking.’

‘Oh, there you are.  Thinking?  Thinking about what?’

A quiet sigh punctuated the voice’s words.  ‘About a lot of things . . . About this weird sense of being entirely unsettled.  Surely you feel that, too?’

Brows drawing together in the filmy dark, Saori rolled onto her side and forced herself to close her eyes.  ‘It feels like . . . like something’s missing, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, that feeling.  You know, it’s hard to breathe, isn’t it?’

Her eyes slowly opened as she gnawed on her lower lip.  “Hard to breathe,” she echoed, her voice barely a whisper.

‘Not for real—not in the literal sense.  More like, it just feels . . . Remember when we went skiing and the lift took us way up to the top of the mountain?  How thin the air was, how you had to really breathe deep to get rid of that light-headedness?  That’s how it feels, don’t you think?’

Saori nodded vaguely.

‘We miss him, you know?  A lot . . . So, I’ve been trying something, but it hasn’t worked—at least, I don’t think it has.  I’d hoped . . .’

‘Tried what?’

Again, her youkai sighed.  ‘I was trying to feel him—Fai-sama.  I thought that if I tried hard enough—stretched myself out far enough . . . But it didn’t work.  I guess we’re too far away—or . . . Or he just doesn’t care . . .’

That thought was enough to make her wince.  Of course, she’d have to be stupid to think that it would matter to him.  Why should it?  Everyone had gone out of their ways to let her know just how foolish they thought she was, in the first place, and yes, she had to agree.  Kidnapping the Asian tai-youkai was a stupid, stupid idea, and she knew that, too: just another example of how her lack of foresight got her into trouble time after time after time . . .

Even so . . .

‘He’s probably glad to have his life back to normal,’ she thought, fighting through the deep and horrible pang that settled in her stomach.  ‘It was a nice idea, though . . .’

Her youkai didn’t argue with her.  In fact, it sighed again.  ‘There’s no sense in dwelling on the past, right?  That’s what they say, anyway . . . Besides, that school in Morocco called to request an interview with you, so that’s something.’

‘Morocco . . .’ she mused.  On the one hand, the idea of moving to Morocco wasn’t exactly appealing to her.  To be so far from her family again . . . and yet, that same thought was enough to make her seriously consider it, too.  At least there, she could move on without being constantly reminded that she had done something foolish—again.

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair.  No, it wasn’t like her family was still harping on it, but that didn’t really matter when she saw it in their expressions when they thought she wasn’t looking, that sense of befuddlement, like they just couldn’t grasp why she’d opted to do what she had done.

The truth of it was that over the course of her life, she’d always felt a little bit like the proverbial black sheep of her upstanding and highly respected family.  All of them excelled in their chosen professions, in their lives.  Even the one person that the entire family considered to be kind of a pariah was an internationally famous rock star, but Saori?

She was the one that everyone knew made decisions that didn’t always make sense.  She was the one who was always doing things that made them shake their heads, and yes, it was always with love and affection that they’d point out how silly some of her choices really were.  It didn’t really do much to alleviate the horrible feeling that she wasn’t much more than a huge disappointment . . .

Even her second-cousin, Samantha was excelling in her chosen field, despite the reservations that the rest of the family had about it since Samantha had opted to become a hunter—not exactly the best job for a woman.  She was about a year younger than Saori, though in truth, the two had never been that close.  Samantha was always so focused on training, on bettering her skills for her dream of becoming a hunter.  She tended to be a bit more serious overall, a little on the shy side.  Since Saori’s family had spent a good amount of her younger years, living in Hong Kong, the two hadn’t developed the kind of relationship that many of her other relatives had in their own age groups, and by the time the Senkuro family had finally moved back, Samantha already had her circle of friends.

The thing was, she’d never felt quite as isolated in her life, despite the proximity of those who loved her, as she did now.  There were things in her head—things she couldn’t really put into words—things that they wouldn’t understand, even if she could.  She felt so unsettled, as though some part of her was missing, and it wasn’t something she could really articulate, either.  Afraid that they would think she was even more flighty than they already did, and even the people she would normally feel that she could talk to about anything . . . She didn’t really feel that way now.

‘What is it that you want to do?’

That was the big question, wasn’t it?  Too bad she really didn’t have an answer for it, either.

No, the only thing she did know was that, with every day that passed, with every morning that she opened her eyes, only to find that there really wasn’t anything magical, just waiting right around the corner, that there wasn’t anything other than the same old thing, dressed up in a slightly different way—just enough to keep her from going insane, not nearly enough for her to feel as though any of it held any real significance at all . . .

The flash of eyes—not quite brown—flecked in golds as brilliant as her grandfather’s, emerald flickers of light that sparkled and shone . . . She couldn’t discern the expression as they faded from her mind, and she winced.  In her head, she could hear his soft laughter—he hadn’t indulged the sound often, but the couple times she’d heard him . . . And she knew that she really had no right to dwell upon those memories.  They really didn’t belong to her, and, as much as she hated to admit it, even just to herself, she had to allow that she’d stolen those, too.

Those moments weren’t meant to be hers, and if she hadn’t forced the issue by tossing the unconscious man into that van, they never would have been.  But . . .

‘Maybe tomorrow . . .’ she thought as she closed her eyes once more.  ‘Maybe tomorrow, things will be different . . . Maybe, if I . . . if I could just hear his voice one more time . . .?  Maybe it’d be easier to let go of him . . .’

Her youkai sighed softly: more of a breath than an actual sound.  ‘We don’t have his number, Saori, and anyone who does isn’t going to be very interested in handing it over to you.’

Sometimes, she really hated that voice.  Sometimes she wished that it would just let her hang onto things just a little bit longer . . .

‘It’ll be okay, Saori . . . It will be.  Just . . . Just close your eyes, try to sleep.  Maybe we can figure something out tomorrow . . .’

‘Maybe,’ Saori agreed half-heartedly, squeezing her eyes closed for a second before letting out a deep breath as she snuggled deeper under her duvet, into her pillow.

Too bad she didn’t really believe it.

‘Where . . . am I . . .?’

Narrowing his eyes as he slowly shifted his gaze over the hazy and murky darkened landscape, Fai struggled to make out something—anything—in the eerie quiet.  There was nothing at all, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t even sense the divide between the earth and the skies.  He couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began, and the place where he stood was dry, but felt so strangely soft, pliant, under his bare feet.

But where was he?

Glancing behind himself at the miring darkness, his frown deepened.  He wasn’t afraid.  There was no sense of anything dangerous or out of sorts, but he knew that he hadn’t ever been in this place before.

It felt like . . .

A vague scent came to him, one that was entirely too thin for his liking—one that he knew as well as he knew his own.  Taking a slow step forward—strange how the cuffs of his trousers felt damp, but his feet were bone dry—he didn’t think, didn’t stop to consider it as an insular thought seemed to grow larger in his mind: he needed to follow that scent, had to find the source . . .

He stopped abruptly, almost as though he’d walked straight into an invisible wall.  Eyes flaring wide against the darkness that he couldn’t see through, he waited, breathless, half convinced that he was imagining things, half praying that he wasn’t . . . It came once more like a pulsebeat, like a flicker of an unfurling tide, so thin, so weak and thready that he couldn’t quite decide if he’d just wished it into being or if it really was true.  The stronger the compulsion grew to give chase, the more he held back, as though the idea that he might well be disappointed in the end could hurt him . . .

It felt like . . .

Blinking quickly when a soft glow erupted in the distance, Fai started walking again, only this time, as he placed one foot in front of the other, he could feel his pace quickening in time with the light that brightened by degrees.  He didn’t know what he’d find once he reached it, no, but he couldn’t stop the wild syncopation of his heart as it hammered against his ribcage: a wanton heartbeat that left him feeling light-headed, almost . . . almost giddy . . .?

He didn’t know how long he ran, how far he pushed himself as he chased after that elusive horizon.  He couldn’t tell if he was drawing closer or not or if he had simply been running all this time in one place.  All he knew was that, if he could just reach it, that light . . . If he could stand in the brilliance of it, maybe . . .

It felt like . . .

Skidding to a halt as he stepped into the circle of light, Fai blinked, dropped to his knees, reached out so slowly, hand shaking as Saori’s scent wrapped around him.  Just before he could touch her, though, he jerked his hand away, scowling at her straight back, her hair stirred by a breeze that didn’t touch him.  She was humming under her breath, but he couldn’t hear her voice.  No, he could feel it, couldn’t he?  Could feel the reverberations of the sound that didn’t cut through the silence . . .

“Saori . . .?”

His voice was swallowed up by the unearthly stillness, too.  She reached down, sank her fingers into the nothingness beneath her, and he watched, eyes narrowing, as a softness spread from her, radiated away from her, bringing with it the sprigs of spring grasses, of wildflowers and rolling hills that he knew so well.  As the grass spread, the light brightened, the skies seemed to soak colors from the ground as a hazy, lazy blue became the heavens above.

And she laughed.  “Fai-sama?  Is that you?”

“Saori . . .” he said again, only this time, his voice held sound despite the softness of his timbre.  “I . . .”

She scooted around to face him, her eyes as brilliant as he remembered, and he closed his eyes as the scent of her hit him, full-force, as he drank it in like a man lost in a desert, and she was his oasis.

“I’m sorry that I . . . I appropriated you,” she finally said, her voice taking on a rueful sort of tone.  “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were thinking about the children,” he reminded her, slowly scooting in beside her, drawing up his legs, draping his arms casually around them.  “It’s okay.  I . . . I didn’t really mind . . .”

“You . . . You didn’t . . .?” she echoed, eyes rounding wide as she stared up at him.

He reached over, caught her hair that flew into her face, only to gently tuck it behind her ear.  “Are you . . .? Are you happy where you are?  Tokyo?”

Her gaze held onto his for a long moment, but suddenly, it skittered away, falling to the grass, as she gave a little shrug, as the smile on her lips trembled and quivered.  “It’s home,” she replied.  Something in her voice . . . “It’s the largest city on earth.  You could wander around it for days—weeks—and not see the same person twice, not see the same buildings twice.  It’s . . .”

“But . . . are you happy, Saori?”

She didn’t answer right away.  It seemed to Fai that she was gathering her bravado, although why that would be, he didn’t know.  Her entire family was there, weren’t they?  And family was important . . . “I’m happy,” she said, her smile brightening as her gaze took on a steadiness that was almost frightening, although he didn’t know why.

“I’m glad,” he said, hoping she couldn’t hear the underlying emotion that echoed harshly in his own ears.

She sighed, letting her head fall back, her eyes closing as the sun poured down on them.  “This is nice,” she allowed at length, her voice taking on an almost lyrical quality.  “I haven’t slept very well since I got back, actually . . .”

“You haven’t?” Fai echoed with a frown.  “Neither have I . . . Uh, not since you left . . .”

“Really?”

He shook his head, let out a deep breath as he flopped back onto the ground.  Curiously, the sky started to darken, but it wasn’t losing color, either.  No, it was more like time was speeding up, and as the evening shadows fell along with the reds and golds and the sounds of birds in the trees far away, he smiled.  “But you’re sleeping now, aren’t you?”

“Because we’re dreaming?” she mused, stretching out beside him, curled on her side, her hands tucked up under her cheek.

Fai craned his neck to gaze at her, and without another thought, he pulled her against him, let her use his shoulder as a pillow as a contented little sigh slipped from her, as her hand pressed gently against his chest.  “Aren’t we?”

“Fai-sama?"

“Hmm?”

“Do you think . . .?  I mean, if I hadn’t . . . hadn’t appropriated you, do you think . . .?”

He frowned thoughtfully.  To be honest, he’d wondered the same thing himself.  If things hadn’t happened the way they did, would he have gone out of his way to get to know her at all?  In truth, it wasn’t something that had an easy answer; not really.  He’d like to say that he would have, but reality might not have supported that possibility, at all.  So wrapped up in his work, in the things he had to do, the deadlines he had to meet, everything he had to micromanage on a daily basis . . .

‘Not entirely true . . . You did notice at the very start, just how pretty she was.  She caught you off-guard because she really didn’t try to manipulate you or sway you with her appearance because that’s not who she is or what she is . . .’

“Would I have gotten to know you the way I did?” he supplied since she’d trailed off.  “I . . . I don’t know,” he admitted.  “It wasn’t you.  I just . . . I barely took the time to notice anything.”

She smiled just a little.  “Is it bad, then, that I’m really not sorry for it?  I mean, I am, but I’m not . . . That doesn’t make sense, I guess . . .”

“No, actually, it does,” he told her, breathing in deep—so deep—letting the scent of her muddle his thoughts, preoccupy his brain . . . “That’s not to say you should do that kind of thing again.  I mean, I can forgive one time, but if you did it again . . .?”

“I won’t,” she promised.  “I learned my lesson . . .”

He sighed since he wasn’t entirely sure that he bought into that.  “Anyway, want to tell me how you managed to break into my dream?”

She didn’t answer, but she did laugh softly as she snuggled just a little closer against him.  “I wanted to see you just one more time,” she ventured.  “I thought that it’d be easier to . . . to move on . . .”

He didn’t feel his arms tighten around her as his smile died away, as he scowled off into the distance.  “You . . . You want to move on . . .”

She sighed again, but it sounded almost tired, weary.  “I don’t have much of a choice,” she allowed.  “Everyone says that what I did was stupid, which it was . . . I think they’re afraid that you’ll come for me, want to throw me in prison or something, which is your right, isn’t it?  Because I kidnapped you . . .”

He grunted.  “The laws are a little more lenient for appropriation, Saori.  Don’t worry about that.”

“I have an interview for a position at an academy in Morocco,” she said, her voice growing a little thicker, a little more slurred as sleepiness set in.  “It’d be a good place to make a new start.”

For some reason, the things she was saying hurt.  The idea of her, making a new start?  That she might well leave him in her past . . .? “Will you . . .? Will you take it if they offer it to you?”

She uttered a half-yawn, half-sigh and burrowed just a little closer to him.  “I guess so,” she mumbled.  “Here or there . . . doesn’t really . . . matter . . .”

He pondered that as the sound of her breathing evened out, took on that heavier cadence that indicated that she was sleeping.

To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret the whole thing.  After all, he had to be sleeping himself, and he understood that he was dreaming, and yet, if that were the case, then why did Saori feel so real to him?  Why would she have said the things she’d said?  He certainly wouldn’t have come up with that on his own, but . . .

But the idea of her, taking a job in Morocco?  Of her, getting her fresh start, away from her family, but also away from him . . .?

That just wasn’t all right with him, not at all.

He sighed.  He’d figure it out in the morning.  Right now, however, he was done, wondering just how this was possible, how it was that she had managed to find her way into his dream like this, especially when he wasn’t really much of a dreamer normally.  For now, though, the warmth of her body so close to his, the sound of her steady breathing, the smell of her that lent him a measure of comfort that he didn’t question . . . It was enough, wasn’t it?

‘Yeah . . .’ he thought as his eyes drifted closed.  ‘It’s enough . . .’