InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Unrest ( Chapter 45 )

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

Lifting his gaze to peer over the top of the report he was supposed to be reading, Fai frowned as he watched Saori, who was settled on the sofa with the pile of ledgers and receipts, bank statements and basically everything that had to do with the finances, dating back to when Fai first took over as tai-youkai.  Everything was, in fact, in the ledgers, but she’d wanted to double check everything: an insane undertaking, really, but she seemed to be making decent headway into the pile.  First thing, she said, was to just check over the general bookkeeping before she tried to delve into it, looking for discrepancies.

In all actuality, he didn’t honestly think that she’d find much in the way of errors.  That wasn’t the problem.  He could only hope that maybe she could figure out a way to save some money, maybe cut a few corners, that kind of thing.  He suspected that the real problem was just that he’d been looking at those books for so long that he couldn’t rightfully see them from a fresh perspective.

That wasn’t why he was looking at her now, though.  Now?  He sighed.  She’d been uncharacteristically quiet all day.  He just wasn’t sure why . . .

Oh, he’d asked her, of course.  She’d smiled a little tightly, shook her head, assured him that everything was fine.  He could see right through it, but just how was he supposed to get answers out of her if she didn’t want to give them?

‘Maybe it’s nothing.  Maybe you’re just reading too much into it.’

His frown deepened.  ‘No, that’s not it . . . She’s definitely acting like there’s something on her mind . . .’

Unfortunately, he wasn’t entirely sure, how he could get her to talk about something that she very obviously wanted to keep to herself, at least, for now.  He’d tried to get her to open up about it last night when he’d come to bed, only to find her, rereading the same page of a book about five times—if she’d read it, at all.  When he’d asked her about it, she’d just forced a little smile, told him that everything was fine . . .

But he’d felt the upset in her youki, a sense of reluctance that wasn’t there before.  If she hadn’t snuggled against him so readily, he might well have thought that maybe it was something he’d done.  As it was, though, he had spent a long time, staring into the darkness, wondering just what it was that felt . . . off . . .

Maybe it was simply that he was entirely attuned to her—everything about her.  He wasn’t sure exactly when that had happened, but he couldn’t say that he was uncomfortable with it, either.  He guessed that if he had to describe it, he’d just chalk it up to the idea that they were mates.  It was the simple feeling that everything about her resonated with him, and that . . . It was a good thing—a wonderful thing.  A perfect thing . . .

He sighed, leaning back in his chair as he dropped the pen he’d been holding onto the desktop with a clatter.  “Saori . . .”

She didn’t look up.  “Hmm?”

“You know,” he drawled as he considered how he wanted to phrase what was on his mind.  “I . . . I’m here if you want to talk to me . . . about . . . anything . . . anything at all that might be bothering you . . .”

That got her attention, and she peered at him over the top of the ledger.  “Nothing’s bothering me,” she assured him with a sweet smile.  “You know, I think I’m almost done, going through the general bookkeeping.”

He frowned as she turned her attention back to the books once more.  On the one hand, he was about ready to demand that she tell him what was on her mind.  On the other?  Well, he liked to think that she would tell him on her own.  Maybe he was reading more into it than what was really there.  Maybe his own hyper-awareness was coming back to bite him . . .

‘Except that you know how the old saying goes: if it looks like a duck, and it quacks like a duck . . .’

‘And she tells me that it’s nothing.  Am I supposed to accuse her of lying?’

‘Of course not!  Just give her some more time.  If it’s that important, she’ll tell you.  Maybe she is just having one of those moments that they say women have . . .’

‘Yeah, and what would you know about that?  You know, I’m pretty sure that if I said that to her, she’d be mad at me for it . . .’

‘Well, I didn’t tell you to say it to her, for God’s sake!  Women are touchy about stuff like that, aren’t they?’

Fai heaved a sigh since that, in his estimation, really didn’t deserve an answer . . .

A loud rumble outside abruptly caught his attention.   It sounded like a sonic boom or maybe an earthquake, and he dropped the report on the desk as he stood up to look outside.  InuYasha was standing in the yard, yammering at Yerik as the latter slowly picked himself up off of the ground, and Fai shook his head.  “I think your uncles are trying to kill my brother,” he muttered, leaning against the window frame.

She glanced up, blinking, and set aside the ledger she was going over.  “They’re not trying to kill him,” she insisted as she hurried over to see what he was looking at.  “Hmm . . . You know, I think Yerik-kun is getting faster on his feet . . .”

Fai snorted.  “You think?”

She sighed as she watched the training going on.  “Back home, whenever we had a family gathering, it always ended up in the back yard, sparring,” she ventured, her voice soft, a little sad.

He stared at her for a long moment before turning his attention out the window again. “You miss your family,” he said.  “Your mother?  Father?”

She nodded slowly.  “Nii-chan, too . . . I mean, I know that I can call them any time, but it’s just not really the same . . .”

His frown turned a little more thoughtful.  Yes, he supposed, missing her family could easily be responsible for her slight despondency today, last evening . . . She had her uncles here, of course, but that wasn’t exactly the same, was it?  Watching the training going on outside, he snorted indelicately.  Considering her uncles were about as blood thirsty as they came?  It wasn’t exactly conducive to a sweet family visit, now was it . . .?

Beside him, she sighed.  Fai slipped an arm around her, drawing her gently against him.  The only family he had was Yerik—and, he supposed, Saori.  He was used to being alone for the most part, but it wasn’t something he’d chosen.  She . . . She was most certainly a product of the love and devotion of that family she missed.  Maybe . . . Maybe he could try to be a little more tolerant, and maybe . . .


Settling back in the high boughs of the old tree in the back garden of the impressive estate, InuYasha watched, arms folded, as Ryomaru put Fai through his paces.  True enough, he’d insisted that the Asian tai-youkai learn the basics of what they knew, all in the guise of deeming the young man worthy of taking care of his great-niece, Saori.  The truth of it was, however, that even InuYasha had to admit that he was solid enough of a swordsman and overall fighter to hold his own easily enough.

From what he’d said, he was trained by some wacky old Chinese guru—Master Ling, they’d called him.  InuYasha had never heard of him, but he’d been told that Ling was a master of both the Taijijian martial arts as well as the Taijijian sword.  Fai’s blade was a decent one though single bladed, which wasn’t strictly Taijijian style, but his was actually imbued with the ability to absorb earth style attacks—pretty damn useful, given that he could stop any manner of earth attack, even if said-attack was more of a reaction than an actual assault.  Yerik’s sword, however, was the traditional Taijijian design: twin-edged, slightly heavier than Fai’s Kamennyy-Nozh.  Right now, they’d decided that Yerik would benefit more from strength and agility training than anything else since that sword was heavy enough that it slowed him down a little.

None of that was really important.  He had to admit that the Russians were quite able to hold their own easily enough.  No, it was more of the idea that they just wanted to make sure that Saori herself had found the right fit.

She’d always been a little impulsive, a little more free-spirited than anyone else in the close-knit family.  InuYasha had always enjoyed, taking her out camping and hunting and teaching her things that she found fascinating, maybe more so than anyone else in the family.  The others learned survival skills, and yes, they’d be fine if they were ever in a situation that required it, but Saori had always thrived upon it.

It was that sense of independence that she’d discovered early on that led to her, venturing out on her own, seemingly without a second thought.  Even as a great-uncle, it was something that he could be proud of.  Saori didn’t question her choices when she followed her heart, so it really shouldn’t have been a surprise that she’d let it lead her here, either . . .

But it hadn’t take InuYasha long to realize that the little girl that he’d known for so long had finally grown up, and in the doing, she’d stumbled into her mate, too, even if she had gone about it in an entirely unorthodox way.  When he’d followed her as she’d chased after Fai on that challenge with that lumbering bear-youkai, he’d sat in the trees, far enough way to keep his presence hidden, but near enough to keep an eye open for any signs of ambush or deception, and he’d watched as they’d hugged, kissed there on the would-be battlefield.  In his estimation, those moments were enough to solidify in his mind that those two really did belong together . . .

He hadn’t bothered to follow them to the bear’s home, though.  After all, Demyanov had managed to keep his head on his shoulders this long.  He’d keep her safe then, too . . .

Narrowing his gaze as Ryomaru hopped out of the way to avoid the long blade of Yerik’s sword, he flicked his dog ears as he uttered a low snort.  Ryomaru was having a slightly more difficult time with Yerik today.  He wasn’t exactly using his entire arsenal, and he wasn’t really putting everything he had into the fight, but it was a close thing.  In the little longer than a month since they’d taken on Yerik as a student, he’d come a long way.

The buzz of his cell phone interrupted InuYasha’s musings, and he snorted indelicately as he tugged the device out of his pocket.  “Izayoi,” he said, foregoing any perceived pleasantries.

A soft chuckle greeted him on the other end of the line.  “Jiijii . . . How are you?”

Recognizing the voice of his great-nephew, InuYasha sat back again.  “Fine, fine,” he replied a little impatiently.  He never had been one to yak on the phone.  “Your aunts make it safely onto the plane?”

“That’s why I was calling.  They’ve hit a short delay—at least, they said it shouldn’t be longer than an hour—but, yes, they’re on the plane and waiting.  They should land sometime this afternoon—maybe closer to evening with the delay . . .”

“All right,” InuYasha grumbled.  “Thanks.”

Rinji sighed.  “How’s Saori?  I mean, she’s video chatted me; all of that.  What’s your take on it, though?”

“She ain’t a pup anymore, Rin,” he reminded the younger youkai.

“I know that,” Rinji replied.  “But you know better than anyone that she doesn’t always do things in the way she should, and sometimes it backfires on her.  So, I’m asking.”

InuYasha grunted.  “She’s fine.  It’s that mate of hers that could use some training.  Can’t even see the fissure between youki yet . . .”

“Her . . .?” Rinji grunted.  “Her mate, you said?  Demyanov-sama . . .?”

“Keh.”

“Is . . .? Is that right . . .?”

“Anyway, we’ll get him trained up.  Can’t let him run around without knowing the fucking basics.”

“But . . . I mean, he’s been challenged quite a few times, hasn’t he?” Rinji argued.  “So, he has to know something about fighting . . .”

InuYasha snorted.  “Taijijian ain’t the same,” he scoffed.  “A bunch of forms that get in the way of having your sword where you need it to be when you need it to be there.”

Rinji grunted, mostly because he, too, had studied some various forms of martial arts, as well.  It just so happened that when it came to actual swordplay, he tended to blend the various disciplines he’d learned.  “Taijijian is about more than form,” he reminded InuYasha.  “It’s also about focus and balance . . .”

“Yeah, well, someone who has the grit to challenge him ain’t gonna necessarily fight fair, either, and if they don’t fight fair, then focus and balance don’t really mean shit.  As long as you’re stronger than your opponent, then the rest don’t matter.”

Rinji chuckled.  “You have a valid point, jiijii.  Anyway, I’ll let you go.  Take care of everything there.”

“Keh.”

The call ended, and InuYasha let out a deep breath.  He had a few hours, then, before he had to head to the airport to pick up the womenfolk: Kagome and Nezumi.  Nezumi had offered to take a look at the orphanage’s vehicles, see if she couldn’t get them up and running again before the trip down to meet the perspective adopters.  Kagome?  She just missed InuYasha, she’d said . . .

‘Keh!  You miss her, too, baka.’

Breaking into the smallest grin as he gazed out over the landscape, golden eyes, glowing softly.  ‘Yeah . . . Yeah, okay . . . I miss her, too . . .’


Stepping off the bottom stair of the grand staircase, Saori frowned as the very loud bang that sounded suspiciously like a cooking pot being heaved across the kitchen resounded in the castle.  Casting Vasili a questioning glance, only for the butler to sigh and very slowly shake his head, she laid a hand upon his arm.  “What’s going on?” she murmured, as a second clatter—this one, accompanied by a very loud bellow—echoed through the hall.

Vasili shot her what could only be described as a very longsuffering shake of his head.  “I believe that His Grace and Master Ryomaru are both in the kitchen,” he said.

Eyes widening, mouth dropping open in a round, ‘o’, Saori blinked, started to move off in that direction, only to draw herself up short, as though she were afraid to find out, just what was going on in there.  “Oh . . . This isn’t going to be good,” she murmured, more to herself than to the aged butler.

Vasili cleared his throat delicately.  “I believe that His Grace was making borscht.”

“Oh, dear,” she said since she knew how particular he was about that.  It galvanized her into action as she hurried off to see if she needed to intervene . . .

Rounding the corner of the dining room, she spotted Olga, the housekeeper-cook standing just outside the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, her arms crossed over her chest, slowly shaking her head.  Grimacing as she steeled herself for what she was about to see, Saori slowly pushed the doors open and slipped into the kitchen just in time to spot Fai and Ryomaru, standing toe-to-toe in front of the huge stove.  Fai was waving a thick wooden spoon at Ryomaru, who was rolling his eyes and bearing his fangs in an entirely menacing display.

“You ruined my borscht!” Fai growled, jabbing the spoon within inches of Ryomaru’s nose.

Ryomaru snorted, knocking the spoon to the side, planting his hands on his hips.  “Are you kidding?  Everyone knows that the secret to excellent borscht is kelp!”

“No, they don’t because it isn’t!” Fai snarled, whipping the spoon to the side as he glowered into the kettle of soup on the stove.  “I’ve been making borscht all my life, and you . . . You’re Japanese!  You don’t know a damn thing about borscht!”

“The hell I don’t,” Ryomaru hollered, shoving Fai aside so that he could stir the soup.  “I’ve been professionally trained, and in my professional training, I learned that kelp is key!”

“Then your professional training was done by someone stupid because kelp does not belong in borscht!  Now, get out of my kitchen!”

“You know, I—”

“Ryomaru, what are you doing?”

Covering her mouth as Nezumi stepped into the kitchen, striding straight toward her mate to grab him by the ear and tug—hard—the human woman shook her head, scowling up at her wincing mate.  “Ow!  Nez!” he complained as she dragged him toward the door.  “Wench!”

“Oh, no,” she grumbled, shoving the swinging doors open and yanking her mate through it.  “You’re a guest in his house, and you’re being rude, Ryo!”

“Rude, my ass!  Ow, damn it!”

Fai grunted, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the retreating pair.  “Good.  Maybe she can keep him out of my kitchen,” he growled.

Wisely hiding her amusement as she ducked her chin, folding her arms over her chest as she shuffled forward, she uttered a sound that could easily be agreement—or simply humoring—as she reached into the flour container and dusted it on the counter.  “Ryomaru-oji-chan is very good at cooking,” she ventured in what she hoped was a neutral tone as she punched down the black bread dough and pulled it out of the bowl.

“Apparently, not when it comes to borscht.”

“Okay, maybe not borscht, but he is a good cook—a certified chef, actually.”

“And just why would someone like him learn how to cook, in the first place?”

She shrugged.  “Well, as far as that goes, the story went that he had to learn how to cook before Nezumi-oba-chan would agree to have children since neither of them knew how, to start with.”

He grunted.  “So, he cooks, and she works on cars . . .?”

She nodded.  “He hunts, too, of course.”

Fai snorted by didn’t bother to comment further.  Saori bit her lip, since she could kind of imagine just what Fai was thinking about all of that . . . It rather amused her, too, come to think of it . . .

There was a certain kind of calm to be found in kneading bread dough, she thought, pushing against the dough with the heels of her hands.  Pulling it forward, folding it over, pushing it back, over and over, she let out a deep breath as she tried not to think about those awful things that Evgeni had said to her—those things she couldn’t quite shake off.

He was trying to frighten her, to cow her.  She knew that.  Ordinarily, she’d try to simply brush it off, but something about the seething hatred in the man’s youki . . . She’d never, ever met anyone who could hide that much vileness, but Fai . . .

She grimaced.  Fai had said that Evgeni was a lifetime friend of his father’s, wasn’t he?  A trusted confidant to the tai-youkai . . . Even so, why?  Certainly, she could understand the desire to protect Fai, but . . .

Gasping when Fai’s arms slipped around her, as his body pressed against her back, his hands closing over hers, helping her to knead the dough, he sighed.  She shivered slightly as his breath stirred the wispy ends of her hair, sending a tickle, straight down her spine.  “Your hands are too small to do this,” he told her, but he didn’t sound annoyed.  If anything, he seemed a little bemused . . .

“I was doing just fine,” she countered lightly, biting her lip, trying to focus on her self-appointed task when the draw of the man was entirely too close for comfort.  Everything about him was blatantly masculine—his hands that were easily twice the size of hers, the way his body seemed to fold in over her—around her . . . The beat of his heart, so strong, so even . . . the scent of him . . . everything . . .

“You’re just not tall enough to get the leverage you need here,” he told her.  “Do you want me to go find you a footstool?”

She wrinkled her nose, turned her head far enough to lean toward him, to kiss his cheek, giggling softly as his skin pinked just a little, as he kept his gaze trained steadily upon the dough on the work bench.  “I think I’m doing just fine,” she countered.

He reached up, smearing flour on her nose despite her efforts to avoid his hand.  “You’re not,” he insisted as she broke into another round of giggles.  “Maybe you should just move and let me handle that.”

“You’d better check your borscht,” she chided, leaning to the side, wiping the flour off her nose with her sleeve.  “I think it’s burning.”

“Nope,” he told her.  “It can’t taste worse, anyway, even if it does burn.”

She rolled her eyes.  “It’s not that bad with kelp,” she told him.  “We ate it that way all the time at the orphanage.”

“I know,” he remarked dryly.  “You don’t have to remind me.  Kelp, indeed . . .”

She smiled at his entirely disgruntled tone.  “It could always be worse, Fai.”

He chuckled, paused for a moment to rub his cheek against hers.  “I like it when you say my name, Saori.”

She giggled, her own cheeks heating at the husky tone that had crept into his voice.  “Do you?”

“Mmm.”

“. . . Fai . . .?”

He grinned, hazel eyes brightening as he studiously avoided her gaze.  “Yes . . .?”

“I’m just . . . practicing,” she told him.

He grunted, but his smile widened, just the same.

“Saori-chan, I—Oh!”

Squeaking out a little gasp as her great-aunt Kagome breezed into the kitchen, only to stop short at the rather compromising position she found them in, Saori giggled and ducked under Fai’s arm to skitter over and hug her aunt.  “Oba-chan!”

Kagome laughed, grasping Saori by the shoulders, holding her at arm’s length to get a good look at her.  The miko of legend was ageless, still as youthful looking as the old pictures of her, back in the day when she was still just a schoolgirl who spent most of her time, chasing down shards of the Shikon no Tama with InuYasha . . . “You look well,” she told Saori, her gentle smile widening a little more.  “Russia is being good to you!”

“I missed you!” Saori blurted.  “Oba-chan, this is Demyanov Fai . . . Fai-sama, this is Izayoi Kagome.”

“The priestess of legend,” Fai intoned, glaring at his flour-covered hands for a moment.  “Very pleased to meet you.”

Kagome smiled, offering Fai a polite bow.  “I trust Saori’s been keeping out of trouble?”

She made a face while Fai chuckled.  “For now.”  Kagome laughed again.

InuYasha stomped into the kitchen, grunting in irritation as he was brought up short by the women, standing in the doorway.  “Wench!” he growled, stepping around his mate.  “C’mon, baka.  Time for your training.”

Fai slipped the loaves into pans and covered them with a clean cloth to rise again.  He didn’t look like he wanted to do any such thing, but he sighed, shook his head, as he quickly washed his hands.  “If I must,” he stated, making no bones about the idea that he really didn’t think it was entirely necessary.

The women watched as the men exited the kitchen, back toward the dining room since Fai needed to retrieve his sword.  Kagome raised an eyebrow at Saori.  “He’s very good-looking,” she commented.  “I think I can see why you . . . appropriated him.”

Snapping her mouth closed, she tried to keep the livid blush off her face.  It didn’t work, and Kagome laughed.  “Well, dear, you have immaculate taste in men; I’ll give you that.  Now, why don’t you show me around and tell me more about your Fai-sama . . .?”

Saori giggled and nodded before leading the way out of the kitchen.