InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Magic ( Chapter 42 )

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

The great hall of the cottegi was entirely unrecognizable.  Between the time that she’d gone upstairs to get ready for the ball and now, it had been completely transformed.  Walls had been retracted, opening the hall to the living room that had been cleared of furnishings.  All the doors to the solar had been pulled open, too, where small tables had been set up: all of them draped with silk tablecloths in varying shades of white, with candles and flowers.  Garlands of flowers in every conceivable color adorned the pillars, strung with fairy lights, bouquets of every size everywhere—so many that the smell of those flowers filled every inch of the space.

People were talking quietly, some were dancing, and everyone looked so beautiful, so regal, that Saori found herself, self-consciously straightening her skirt, hands sweating in the long gloves she’d bought on a whim when she’d purchased the dress.  The sales woman had insisted that they would be perfect for such an occasion . . .

The festivities of the last couple days had led up to this, and, despite her lingering upset over Fai’s near-statement, she had to admit, she would have hated to miss this.  Not everyone was invited, though.  She’d overheard others talking about it.  Apparently, there were only five hundred invitations to the ball, and most of the villagers had gone home hours ago.

She had no idea where Fai was.

He’d knocked on her door, tried to get her to let him in, but at the time, she was in the middle of having her hair done by Arrida’s stylist and was sitting around in a towel since she hadn’t started to dress yet.  One of the maids had sent him away—something that she figured she’d hear about later . . . maybe . . .

“Wow.”

Saori blinked and turned around, only to come, face to face with Yerik, who looked entirely respectable in his black tuxedo.  He held out a hand as he bowed slightly.  “Would you dance with me?”

She stared at him for a moment, but relented, slipping her hand into his.  He chuckled as he led her toward the dance floor. “Don’t think that I’ve forgiven you for your part in that whole debacle,” she told him with a shake of her head.

Yerik grinned unrepentantly at her as he pulled her into the dance.  “That guy didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you,” he scoffed.  “Besides, did you want him to escort you tonight, did you?”

“No, but I could have turned him down without anyone’s help,” she pointed out rather primly.

“That’s true, but you didn’t need to, so . . .”

She sighed, figuring that it would do her no good to try to argue with the stubborn Russian, and she shook her head, her gaze shifting over the other people, scanning the crowd for one particular person.

“He knows you’re unhappy with him,” Yerik said, noticing her preoccupation.  “He asked me to make sure that you have a good time.”

That got her attention quickly enough.  “He’s not coming down?”

Yerik shrugged.  “He didn’t want to ruin your evening.”

She narrowed her eyes.  “Is he up there, pouting?” she demanded.

Yerik’s smile turned a little ironic.  “Come now, Saori.  You know him better than that, don’t you?  If he says he is staying away so that you will enjoy yourself, then you can take that at face value.  My brother may not be perfect, but manipulation is not something he’s ever ascribed to.”

She grimaced.  She did know that.  Fai was many things, could be many things, but no, the man she knew wouldn’t do any such thing.  He wasn’t trying to make her feel bad or guilty.  In his mind, he knew that she was upset and that it had to do with him, so the logical thing for him to do was to stay away . . .

Yet that bothered her, too . . .

Yerik sighed.  “You’re still angry at him over Gustav, right?”

She sighed, too.  “N-No . . .” she admitted.  “After that, he . . . Well, it’s what he started to say, I guess . . . He didn’t finish it, and . . . and I guess he was right, really, but . . .” She grimaced, her gaze falling as she ducked her head.  “It . . . It hurt . . .”

“What did he say?”

Shaking her head slowly, she winced.  He couldn’t see it since she’d lowered her head.  “It’s not what he said, it’s what he meant . . . I reminded him that he introduced me as his employee, and he . . . He wanted to know what he should have said when he didn’t even know . . .”

Yerik let out a deep breath, and she glanced up in time to see him grimace.  “Ouch . . .”

“I know he didn’t mean it the way it came out,” she went on quietly.  “At least, I don’t think he did . . .”

“I can’t speak for him,” Yerik replied.  He looked thoughtful, like he was considering what he wanted to say, and he probably was . . . Even so, Saori . . . Well, she still couldn’t quite brush off the upset that still remained too raw, too fresh . . .

“You don’t have to explain for him,” she said.  “In fact, maybe you shouldn’t . . .”

Yerik shook his head.  “I know that.  It’s just . . . Saori, you need to know—I mean, really need to know . . . You’re good for him—maybe too good for him—and that’s saying a lot.  I mean, for a very long time, Fai was . . . was everything to me.  He was my father, my mother, my . . . my best friend . . . As dumb as it sounds, Fai was my entire world for a long time.  No matter what I said or did, he was always there, and he never treated me like I was a burden or like he was annoyed by me, and you know he had to have been.  A twenty-something year old man, taking care of a toddler?  A hyper toddler, at that . . . but somewhere along the line, he forgot how to sit back, how to take a minute to breathe.”  Shaking his head, Yerik smiled a little sadly.  “Or maybe he never knew how to do those things.  I don’t know.  Since he’s met you, though?  He’s different—in a good way.  It’s just . . . He tends to take it all, you know?  Everything that happens—he assimilates it, like it’s his duty.  That’s why he’d rather stay up in his room than to come down here, to be the reason you don’t enjoy yourself tonight.”

“Saori!”

She blinked and turned, just in time to see Arrida Feodosova, gliding toward her in a whirl of pale yellow silk.  Yerik stopped, his hands falling away from Saori as their hostess approached.  “Good evening, my lord!  Impeccable, as always,” she greeted as Yerik leaned down to kiss her cheek.  “Saori!  You look absolutely gorgeous!  That color really brings out your eyes—I didn’t realize that they’re blue!”

“Oh, thanks,” she murmured.  “Thank you for sending Karinia to fix my hair.”

Arrida waved off her thanks with a flick of her delicate hand.  “That was nothing!  Consider it my apology for the misunderstanding with Gustav . . . I hear that His Grace wasn’t very pleased about it . . .”

Yerik cleared his throat—Saori had a sneaking suspicion that he was trying to cover his sorely misplaced amusement.  “I’m going to go grab a drink.  Would you ladies care for anything?” he asked.

“No, thank you!” Arrida chirped.

Saori shook her head.  “I’m fine.”

He nodded and slipped away into the crowd as Arrida took Saori’s arm and led her off the dance floor.  “I had no idea that His Grace and you . . . If I had, I certainly wouldn’t have encouraged Gustav . . .”

“It’s, uh . . .” she hedged, unsure just what she ought to say.

Arrida arched a golden eyebrow artfully and smirked in a conspiratorial kind of way.  “It’s complicated, right?”

Letting out a deep breath, Saori nodded.  “Yes.  Very.”

“Oh, my dear, it always is!” Arrida started to laugh, but she stopped suddenly, rising up on tiptoe as she scanned the gathering.  “Where is His Grace, by the by?”

Biting her lip, Saori shook her head.  “You know, I was just going to go see what’s keeping him.  If you’ll excuse me?”

Arrida’s smile returned.  “Absolutely!  And men say women take a long time, getting ready . . .”

Saori laughed softly as Arrida turned and swept away.  She sighed as she watched her go before slowly turning and heading for the grand staircase . . .


Striding out of the bathroom with a towel slung around his hips and another one draped over his head as he scrubbed at his sopping hair, he headed over to the door, but stopped short when the familiarity of the youki on the other side of it reached him.

He hesitated only for a moment before opening the door, but anything he’d thought of saying died on his tongue as his eyes flared wide, as he stumbled back a step—tripping over his own feet, as it were.  She stood there, wringing her hands, gnawing on her bottom lip in a decidedly nervous kind of way, and she had to clear her throat before she managed to speak.

“May I?” she asked, gesturing vaguely at the space inside his room.

He nodded.  To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure he could speak; not yet . . .

She stepped inside rather timidly, and he closed the door, leaning back against the wall since he rather needed the support.

He’d taken her places before, and she’d dressed in appropriate outfits.  He’d never seen her looking quite like this, though . . .

Hair drawn up in gentle sweeps, curls, braids, with tiny flowers woven into the strands, all the starker against her dark hair, but the dress . . .

The bodice was nothing but a configuration of lacy flowers and rhinestones in a sweetheart design with more of the lace sprays of blooms that created the straps, connected to the plunged back.  It flowed into a flared tulle skirt layered over a satin underskirt in the same shade of eggshell blue as the rest of the dress that flared out around her hips and legs in flowing motion, accented with another spray of those lace flowers down the side, tapering to a riot of vines and ending with a sweep/brush train.  The embroidered lace was enough to cover everything, yet the sheer peeks of her body below was enough to send every last one of his senses into full-out overdrive.

There was something about the way she looked, something vulnerable and fragile and beautiful, like the first tender blossoms of springtime . . . It was something he’d seen in her so many times before, but somehow, in that moment, something about the way she was presented to him brought those things home in a landslide of comprehension.  The delicate slope of her shoulders, the regal arch of her neck . . . the shadows and stark rise of her collarbones above the blatant swell of her breasts in direct contrast to the absolute tininess of her waist—he was pretty sure that he could almost span her waist with his hands—into the cascade of her skirt, smooth and flowing, ruffling out just lightly at the floor where the front barely brushed the carpet, while the back tumbled out behind her, grounding her in a whisper of tulle and softness and lace . . .

It was all he could do to keep himself from reaching for her, from dragging her into his arms—and straight into his bed . . .

“You . . . You really weren’t coming down, were you?” she asked quietly, wringing her glove-encased hands in a decidedly nervous kind of way.

He sighed, forcing his gaze off of her, over toward the far wall—anywhere in an effort to kick his brain into working again.  Easier said than done . . . “Yerik . . . Yerik said he would escort you,” he said.  “I wanted you to enjoy the ball.”

His reply didn’t do a thing to quell her anxiety.  He could feel it in the way her youki surged and retreated in a wholly tentative way—as though she were afraid to let it touch him, and that . . . That made him grit his teeth—hard.  “I . . . I know what you said down by the water—what you started to say, and . . . and I . . . understand . . .” she began, her voice so soft, so quiet, so unsure . . . “I just . . . I . . . Fai-sama?”

“Yes?” he asked when she trailed off though he still had yet to look at her again.

“What . . .? What . . . are . . . we . . .?”

Something about the quiet sense of absolute vulnerability in her voice, as though she’d asked the one question that she desperately needed to have answered, even if it was the last one she’d ever wanted to ask . . . His eyes slipped back to her, even though he didn’t turn his head, and the way she was staring at her hands, fingers that were knitted together so tightly that her fingertips had to be white under the casing of those gloves . . . and the rawness in her youki . . .

It took two strides to reach her, to drag her against his body as a soft gasp escaped her.  He held her, hugged her, above her head, he grimaced.  For some reason, he had a feeling that everything rested upon what he said to her now—or what he didn’t say . . . Closing his eyes, feeling the wild and frenetic beat of her heart against him, he sighed. “I . . . I can’t breathe without you, Saori,” he murmured, hating the defenselessness that she had found in him: hating it, but loving it, too . . .

And just like that, the tension, the fear in her subsided.  The flare of her youki was like the sudden rush of the warm spring breeze, blowing up around him, taking his breath away, and just as suddenly, she giggled.  It was rough, and it was stunted, maybe a little shaky as she slipped her arms up under his arms, over his shoulders.  “I . . . I can’t breathe without you, either, Fai-sama,” she replied.

He sighed, shaking his head as he held onto her for a few moments before letting go and stepping back, draping his hands on his towel-clad hips as he leveled a no-nonsense look at her.  “Okay, I need you to hear me, Saori,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument.  She blinked, looking just a little confused at the brusqueness in his voice.  “You need to stop with the ‘-sama’ thing.  I’m not superior to you.  I’m not your better; you’re my equal.  I’m just me, and you’re just you, and I don’t need it—or want it—not from you.”

She opened her mouth, then snapped it closed, a very becoming and sweet flush blossoming in her cheeks.  He almost laughed at the sheer consternation in her expression—that proper part of her versus his insistence that her formality was not a good thing . . . She sighed.  “I’ll . . . try,” she finally said in an entirely pouting sort of tone.  “You want me to ignore a lifetime of manners.  That’s not easy, you know . . . Fai.”

He rolled his eyes at the added emphasis she’d put upon his name.  Then he smiled, chuckled softly.  “You’ll get used to it,” he assured her.

She uttered a very quiet little, ‘hrumph’.

“Why don’t you go down and find Yerik?  Make him dance with you or help him dodge his fiancées . . .”

She blinked and stared at him for a moment before her rather blank expression shifted into one full of chagrin.  “But—”

He held up a hand as he stepped over to his closet.  “Would you rather watch me dress?  I assure you, I’m very, very naked under the towel.  I don’t have a problem with it, but . . .”

She gasped, and it was almost comical, how quickly she lifted her skirts and hurried over to the door.  She didn’t even look back as she hastened out of his room, and he chuckled again, only a little disappointed that she didn’t choose to remain.


Saori laughed as Fai turned her in a proper waltz.  She was bright, sparkling, glittering like a diamond in the sunshine.  Men stopped, gave her a look, a smile, an approving stare, and none of those were lost on Fai.  He noticed every last one of them, and in response, he held her a little tighter, was just a little more aware of how he handled her, with the care and precision that a woman like her deserved . . .

She didn’t seem to notice the attention she drew, and he figured that was just as well.  Knowing her, it would only serve to make her self-conscious, and even then, did she really need more ammunition to potentially use against him?  He rather thought that she didn’t . . .

“You’re so quiet,” she said with a little shake of her head.  “Why is that, Fai-sa—Umm, Fai . . .”

He chuckled, satisfied that she was trying to remember.  The pretty blush on her cheeks at the slip lent an added sparkle to those captivating eyes of hers, and she laughed.  “Just . . . enjoying the festivities,” he told her.  “You?”

Her cheeks pinked just a little more.  “I’m having a very good time,” she replied almost primly.

Catching Yerik’s eye, he chuckled again since the young man was currently surrounded, quite literally, by a gaggle of females, all vying for his attention.  He shot Fai an imploring look, but Fai could only shrug in a, ‘What-Can-You-Do?’ kind of way, and Yerik narrowed his eyes on him.

“Hmm . . . He doesn’t look like he’s having a good time,” Saori remarked, nodding in Yerik’s direction.

Fai quickly turned her in the guise of dancing and before she could get any ideas in her head about trying to rescue Yerik from his would-be suitors.  “He’ll be fine,” Fai assured her.  “Besides, it’s his own fault.  He’s a little too friendly sometimes.”

“Then I guess I should be glad that you’re a little more reserved,” she mused.  “I don’t know if I’d want to compete like that . . .”

“It’s hardly a competition,” he grumbled as the waltz ended.  Pausing long enough to clap politely, he offered Saori his elbow.  “I think I could use some air,” he suggested.  “Care to accompany me?”

She giggled at the perceived formality, but she slipped her hand under his elbow and let him lead her through the crowd.

The air outside was slightly balmy, carrying with it a subtle hint of a threat of rain.  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky as yet, though, and Saori laughed, tilting her head back as she took in the stars.  “Back home, you can’t see the stars as well,” she ventured as he led her off the patio, down the path the same way Yerik had led her a couple nights ago.  “So pretty . . .”

“I suppose they are,” he allowed.  Truthfully, he couldn’t say that he’d really taken the time to notice it before.

“You know, I was thinking . . . Granted, I wasn’t around when Gunnar-san  was younger, so I don’t know for sure, but I . . . I don’t think that he was ever trained the way you were.  He spent summers in training, both in Japan as well as in Maine with Zelig-sama, but they tell stories all the time about the things they did growing up . . . It seems kind of sad that you don’t have stories like that, too.”

“If Asia were a more peaceful, maybe,” he said.  “It wasn’t like I never had fun . . . It was simply more selective.  I always knew that people were watching me, judging me.  It’s not an easy thing.”

She considered that as she slowly nodded, as the fairy lights played so gently over her—the lights and the shadow and the soft, welcome glow . . . “Well, I guess it’s for the best,” she said, turning an impish little smile on him.  “If you were more outgoing, like your brother, then you’d have been surrounded by girls, too, and if that was the case, you never would have noticed me.”

“Is that what you think?” he asked, stopping abruptly, turning toward her, grasping her arm to bring her around.  “You think any of those women in there could compare to you at all?  They can’t, you know.  You’re . . . You’re . . .”

Heaving a frustrated sigh when he just couldn’t figure out how to say what was in his head, he let go of her and moved off along the path once more.  At times like this, it was hard to find just what it was he wanted to say, wanted to articulate.  He’d never been good at talking about his own feelings, and now was no different.

He supposed that it could well be because his esteemed father had been so adamant that a man should never show his feelings.  Over the years, Fai had gotten into the habit of locking those emotions away, in keeping them to himself so that they couldn’t be used as leverage against him.  The thing was, while that might work in normal things, in his everyday dealings with others, with Saori, that just didn’t work.  She . . . She needed to see those things, didn’t she?

“I’m . . . I’m sorry . . .”

He drew up abruptly, letting out a deep breath at the meek, soft sound of her voice, of her words.  Grimacing inwardly, he tried to control his spiraling irritation—irritation at himself for messing things up yet again, for giving her the impression that she’d done something wrong when she hadn’t . . . “It’s . . . It’s not you, Saori,” he told her.  “I’m just . . .” He rubbed his forehead, wishing for the life of him that he was better at this sort of thing.  “I’m mad at myself,” he said.  “I’m not good at putting things—my feelings—into words.  I . . . I want to, but I . . .” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed.  “I’m trying, Saori.  I’m . . . I’m trying . . .”

The touch of her hand against his cheek drew him out of his self-recrimination, and he blinked as she gently turned his face, rubbing her thumb over the slight rise, the angled planes.  Eyes so clear, so steady, as a myriad of fairy lights from the nearby pond seemed to shimmer in the depths of them, she studied his face, blinking slowly, almost lazily.  “You don’t have to be anything you’re not, Fai,” she whispered in such a way that he had to wonder if she even realized that she’d spoken out loud.

He opened his mouth to speak, to try to tell her, just how much she meant to him, but the words wouldn’t come, and no matter how hard he tried, they jumbled around his brain until they were entirely meaningless.

And he did the only thing he could think to do, the only thing that maybe she’d understand.  Reaching out, pulling her close, marveling at the way the contact just felt right, felt complete, he lowered his head, eyes fluttering closed, breathing in the scent of her, everything about her.  He kissed her . . .

The sweetest touch of her lips under his was a balm, a salve, even as the rise in his senses spun out of his control.  She was closer than anyone had ever been, and it was all right—more than all right.  Savoring the taste of her—the lingering sweetness of wine on her lips—he sighed softly, leaning over her, sheltering her, protecting her through the haze of half-formed thoughts that slipped away from him like the gossamer strands of reason.  His entire life converged in her, and, through her, he could feel himself, coming alive . . .