InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Brotherly Love ( Chapter 46 )

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

Leaning up on his elbow, Fai smiled vaguely as he watched Saori sleep.  The early morning sunlight, filtering through the windows seemed to catch in her hair, dance over her shoulder, her cheek, despite the dusty shadows that still covered her eyes, protecting her from the burgeoning light.  Sooty eyelashes, so thick and long, the kiss of pink that touched her sun-glowing skin . . . Deep rose lips, slightly parted as her slow, even breathing filled him with a sense of well-being that ran through him in such a way that it had become a part of him without even trying.

He frowned, but it was more of a thoughtful expression than anything as he gently ran the back of his knuckles against her cheek, reveling in the smoothness, the warmth of her, both body and spirit . . . He wasn’t sure how, but this family of hers . . . They’d raised her to be who she was, and that, to him, was astounding, almost humbling.  A gentle spirit, an underlying sweetness . . . Everything about her . . .

Every day, the memories of a lifetime without her seemed to fade, and every day, he had to wonder if she could feel it, too.  She’d never said; not really, but it stood to reason that if he knew that she was his mate, that she had to know it, too, right?  That was how it worked, or so his mother had told him.  In those days, he had scoffed, told Faina that he had plenty of time to worry about such things.  If he’d realized then that he’d lose her so soon, would he have sat down, listened to what she had to say . . .?

He grimaced.  He’d like to think that he would have.  He’d like to think that he wasn’t such a terrible son.  Even so, there were moments when all he could remember were those times that he blocked out her gentle thoughts, the way she’d try to encourage him not to be so hard, so unyielding, and all he’d wanted was to be just like his father . . .

And that was how he’d lived his life from the moment he’d become tai-youkai until the moment she had walked into his life, and from the very start, she’d forced him to take a long, hard look at himself, even when he hadn’t wanted to do any such thing.  She hadn’t done it in such a way that he’d never even realized as it was happening.  Watching her, listening to her . . . That’s what had made him understand . . .

And now?

Leaning back, scratching his chin, he considered that simple question as the minutes ticked away on the clock.  His father . . . He was a fine man, an excellent tai-youkai, and yet . . . He wasn’t perfect, was he?  He was flawed, like everyone was, but some of the things his father believed . . . Fai wasn’t entirely sure he believed those things, too.  Strength was important—Alexei had told him so often that it was everything.  But it wasn’t, was it?  It was the wisdom that came with a level of understanding—wisdom that tempered the will to dominate . . . The wisdom of realizing that not everything could or should rely upon him . . .

Saori knew this, understood it, probably because she’d lived it.  The dynasty that she was a part of . . . They’d all taught her, hadn’t they?  Taught her that sometimes, it was okay to ask for help, that sometimes, it was the only thing that could really give a new perspective on a difficult dilemma.  She knew this because she’d seen it in action—the Inu no Taisho, the Japanese tai-youkai . . . Even the reaches of her family in North America . . . and if he wanted to be honest with himself, he’d have to admit that the majority of his trouble in reaching out, asking for advice, even trying to find homes for the orphans . . . That was all because of his own pride, his desire to do everything for himself, his disdain for feeling as though he might be beholden to someone else . . .

He made a face.  Not that he didn’t still feel it keenly . . . He did, of course.  He supposed that it was a part of him, so ingrained that it was there as surely as breathing.  That was his initial reaction to most things: the believe that he had to figure it out on his own.  It was a slow process, opening himself to the possibility that allowing others to aid him did not necessarily brand him as weak.  Maybe, if anything, it showed more strength, after all . . .

‘Very introspective this morning, aren’t you?’ his youkai-voice murmured.

‘Maybe . . . Lately, though, it’s about the only time I’ve had to sit and think freely . . .’

‘Since the arrival of her doting uncles, you mean?’

‘Something like that,’ he thought with an inward wince since he was still feeling the effects of the last few days of training.  Of course, ever since the kitchen incident with Ryomaru, it seemed to Fai that that particular uncle was a little more blood-thirsty than usual.  Then again, he could just be imagining things . . .

‘Nope, he was definitely trying to kill you yesterday . . .’

Fai snorted.  ‘Yeah, he probably was . . .’

Good thing, then, that he and his mate as well as InuYasha and Kagome had left last night for the orphanage.  Nezumi—he’d been told that it meant, ‘rat’ in Japanese—had said she wanted at least a week to check over all the broken-down vehicles to see if she could salvage any of them, and apparently, Ryomaru and InuYasha both had a soft spots for children—something that Fai might not have guessed if he hadn’t seen the ridiculous number of toys and other necessities that they had collectively bought for the little ones . . . Those children were like to think that it was Christmas.  Then again, it wasn’t like there was ever much money for that, either . . . But even those children had heard the stories—the tales of the hanyou and priestess who had defeated Naraku so long ago.  Fai had little doubt that meeting InuYasha was going to akin to meeting a real-life super hero to those children . . .

“Morning.”

Smiling as he met Saori’s sleep-bleary gaze, he leaned down, kissed her forehead as she broke into a dreamy little grin and snuggled closer against him.  “Did I wake you?”

She shook her head, burrowing deeper into her pillow, her hands tucked under it, smiling up at him.  “No, but I had a really nice dream . . .”

“Oh?  Was I in it with you?”

She giggled.  “Not unless you were a giant mountain of cotton candy . . . In my dream, I had a stomach ache . . .”

He cocked an eyebrow at her.  “You ate a giant mountain of cotton candy in your dream?”

She nodded happily.  “And then, I drank out of a huge lake of hot chocolate . . .”

Fai snorted and rolled his eyes.  “You dream in candy?  Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Well, one time, I had a dream that I was being chased by a gargantuan marshmallow . . .”

He sighed.  “Yep, why would you possibly dream about me when you could dream about all the things that would make you sick if you ate them all?”

“You realize that I can’t really control who or what shows up in my dreams, don’t you?” she parried.

He finally gave in and chuckled.  “All right, as long as you’re not kissing someone else in your candy dreams,” he grumbled. Then he narrowed his eyes on her.  “You’re not, right?”

She giggled again, leaning up to kiss his chin in a wholly playful kind of way.  “No, no kissing, not anyone.”

He leaned over her, pinning her against the bed, leaning on his elbows to keep the bulk of his weight off of her as her giggling escalated.  “You’re making it really difficult for me to kiss you,” he told her.

She didn’t stop giggling as he stole a quick kiss, then sighed when she kept going.  “You know, you’re not too good on my ego . . .”

Grasping his face in her hands, she didn’t look contrite in the least, and that just figured.  “I think it’s going to be a beautiful day.  I can feel it.”

Her happiness was an infectious thing, and he chuckled, letting his forehead fall against hers.  Savoring the absolute closeness of the moment, he allowed himself another minute, just to breathe her in.  “All right.  As much as I’d love to hear more about your bellyache, I have some calls I have to return and a continent to watch over.  Want me to make your breakfast first?”

She sat up when he swung around, sitting on the edge of the bed.  “I could make breakfast for you,” she offered, rising up on her knees, slipping her arms around his neck, her hands clasped over his heart as she leaned against his back and planted a ridiculously loud kiss on his cheek.  “You go do your work, and I’ll bring it to you.”

He grunted.  “Can you even cook?”

She snorted.  “Baka,” she muttered, letting go of him so that she could slip off the other side of the bed.  She didn’t see his grin as she shuffled off to the bathroom.

Chuckling softly as he stood up and grabbed the pair of pants that he’d stripped off last night before bed, he made quick work of donning those as well as a clean shirt before letting himself out of the room.  His master plan was to get as much work out of the way as he possibly could before the tai-youkai, along with the potential adopter families started arriving late next week.  As always during the tai-youkai summits, a lot of discussion went on regarding trouble areas and other things of that nature, along with general information sharing and checking up on the progress of different global matters.  More often than not, Fai tended to keep his problems close to the vest.  He did rather hope, however, that there were things that he might be able to offer assistance with, given that they were all so open to the idea of taking some of the orphans into their jurisdictions—Ian MacDonnough, notwithstanding.

Which reminded him, too.  He still needed to call that bastard.  Not his favorite thing to do, given that MacDonnough had a terrible habit of being as asstastic as he possibly could be . . .

The curt knock sounded on the door as Fai stepped off the staircase.  Waving away Vasili as the butler hurried into the foyer, Fai frowned at the strange youki that he sensed but couldn’t quite place.  Almost familiar, but not quite—almost hostile, but not exactly . . .

Opening the door, a blander than usual expression on his face, it didn’t hold for long.  Eyes flaring wide for a mere moment, Fai was caught off-guard when the youkai narrowed his amber eyes, a menacing light igniting behind them as he deliberately flicked his hand, sending a sapphire blue energy ball, straight at him.

Fai barely had time to react, hopping out of the way to avoid the impact.  A moment later, the flash of energy crashed into the wall with such force that the very foundations of the castle shook and groaned.  “Sesshoumaru?” he blurted, but shook his head as he slowly straightened his back, squared his shoulders.  No, that wasn’t right . . . Too young to be Sesshoumaru, even if he looked just like the Inu no Taisho . . . But just who the hell was he . . .?

As suddenly as the menace in his aura had spiked, it disappeared as the tall, silver-haired dog crossed his arms over his chest, gave a thoughtful nod.  “Not bad, Demyanov-sama,” he allowed, the smallest hint of a grin surfacing on his ridiculously handsome features. There was a certain laziness in his gaze, the same kind of bored expression Fai had seen on Sesshoumaru’s face before.  “So . . . You’re Saori-chan’s chosen mate?”

Fai nodded just once, narrowing his gaze on the man who stepped inside.  “Who are you?”

A high-pitched squeal erupted behind them, and before Fai could figure out, just what was going on, Saori flew down the stairs, straight into the silver-haired man’s open arms.  “Nii-chan!” she exclaimed, leaning back to look up into his face.  “What are you doing here?”

“Fine way to greet me, Saori-chan,” he chided.  Then he chuckled.  “I just wanted to come meet your mate.  That’s all.”

She gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth as her eyes widened.  “My . . .? How did you—?”

Nii-chan rolled his eyes.  “Jiijii told me.”

She made a face, then giggled despite the blush that exploded in her cheeks, giving her nii-chan a quick hug before stepping back and gesturing at Fai.  “Figures . . . Nii-chan, this is Fai.  Fai, this is nii-chan—my brother—Rinji.”


Slowly pacing the length of the office floor as he scanned through the adoption applications contained in the slim-file, Rinji nudged the wire-rimmed glasses up his nose, a thoughtful scowl on his features as Fai eyed him, head bent as though he were reading the documents before him.

It was . . . uncanny. That was the only word that he could think of to describe it, really.  Family resemblance was one thing.  People had been known to say that Fai and Yerik looked like brothers, certainly.  Rinji Senkuro, however, was literally the spitting image of his great and noble grandfather . . .

“All of these look good,” Rinji remarked, glancing up just as Fai shifted his gaze back to the papers in his hand once more.  “She did a remarkable job.”

It was actually rather creepy . . . like he was a clone or something unnatural . . .

Fai cleared his throat, set the papers aside.  “She did.  I knew she would.  It’s why I offered her the job.”

Sucking in his cheeks, shifting his mouth to the side as his eyes narrowed slightly, Rinji stared at him.  “And that’s the only reason you came and . . . appropriated my sister?”

The question was asked mildly enough.  Fai would have to be stupid to miss the undertone, though.  Big Brother wasn’t very pleased that Fai had stolen her right out from under his nose, as it were . . . “No, but I . . . I didn’t really know at the time . . . It’s not like that’s something you know from the second you meet someone.”

Rinji appeared to consider that.  Then he shrugged.  “I suppose.  Hell, I don’t know.  I don’t have one yet.”

Maybe he was the direct result of some kind of DNA manipulation . . .

“Can’t help you there, Rinji.  She found me, remember?”

Rinji opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut, cocking his head to the side as he slowly narrowed his eyes.  “You want to know why I look so much like my grandfather?” he asked dryly.

The expression on his face was most definitely a Sesshoumaru look, and that, in turn, sent a rather uncomfortable shiver down Fai’s spine.  “It is a little weird,” he admitted.

Rinji rolled his eyes.  “Don’t worry.  You’re not the first one who thought it was strange.  From what I’ve been told, I look like kaa-san, and she tends to look a lot like ojii-san.”

Fai snorted.  “Shouldn’t you look at least a little bit like your father?”

Rinji shrugged.  “I suppose, but then, Saori looks exactly like a female version of him, so . . .” Resuming his pacing, he flipped through the files once more.  “So, I assume you’re going to marry my sister.  When?”

Fai blinked, shifted in his chair, unsure why that particular question caught him off-guard.  It really shouldn’t have—and it probably should have occurred to Fai already . . . but it hadn’t.  “Uh, we . . . We haven’t . . . uh . . . discussed it . . .”

Rinji nodded, but kept pacing.  “And I assume you intend to ask for permission to propose to her, as well?”

“. . . Permission?”

That got Rinji’s attention quickly enough.  Glancing up from the slim-file, he frowned thoughtfully.  “Of course . . . Otou-san . . . ojii-san . . . Well, all of us, actually.  I mean, Saori’s very special to all of us, and something like this?  It’s a big deal, don’t you think?  A huge deal, really . . .”

“W—I—Uh—”

The look that Rinji dealt him then was enough to cut him off short.  The narrowing of the eyes was entirely menacing, the shake of his head was telling, too, but when he arched one of those articulated eyebrows . . .?  Fai grimaced inwardly.  “Your Grace . . .”

“Yes?”

Snapping the slim-file closed, he crossed his arms over his broad chest, leaning back just a little as he stared at Fai—hard.  “You’ll marry Saori before you make her your mate for real, won’t you?”

It was a question, but it didn’t feel like one.  Deliberately rising from his chair, he took his time, stalking over to fill a glass with vodka.  “That’s kind of personal, don’t you think . . . nii-chan?”

Suddenly, Rinji laughed—an entirely warm and welcoming kind of resonance.  “You’re right,” he said, shaking his head.  “It’s your business.  I had you going there for a second, though, didn’t I?”

Letting out a deep breath, Fai had to wonder if he’d actually lost that round, after all.  He rather had a feeling that he had . . .


Saori looked up when the soft knock sounded on her door.  Recognizing the familiar youki, she smiled.  “Come in,” she called.

Rinji opened the door, peeked in, only to smile when he spotted her, settled against the thick pillows in the large bed, slightly obscured by the yards and yards of netting, tied back to the high bed posts.  “Busy?”

She laughed and waved him in closer.  “No . . . Well, yes . . .” she sighed, setting aside the first ledger she’d been combing through.  “Fai asked me to look these over . . . He’s . . . He’s having a little trouble, trying to figure out, what’s going on with his accounts.”

Rinji’s smile faded as he sank down beside her.  “Can I?” he asked, holding out a hand.

She frowned.  She knew well enough that Fai really hated for outsiders to know his official business.  But Rinji . . . He was family, and more than that, this kind of thing?  It was what he did on a daily basis.

She handed it to him, and he scooted back beside her, bringing his long legs up onto the bed, crossing them at the ankles as he pulled his glasses out of his pocket and broke open the ledger.  “What is this?” he asked after a minute, flipping through the pages, pushing up his glasses with the back of his hand.

She shook her head, leaning in, peeking over his shoulder.  “What do you mean?  It’s the accounting.  Well, it’s the first year—I thought that’d be the most logical place to start.  It’s not much, is it?”  Shaking her head quickly, she sighed.  “I mean, it’s a good amount of money—a decent amount, really, but not when you consider everything he pays for . . .”

Rinji shrugged and flipped back to the beginning again.  “Okay, but this is just his personal accounting, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

Rinji turned his head, scowled at her.  “I mean, why does he pay everything out of one account?”

She bit her lip.  It had taken Rinji two minutes to ask the same question that it had taken her a few days to get around to questioning.  Of course, the first couple days, she’d spent, going through, making sure that all the figures in the ledgers were accurate.  Even so . . . “I’ll ask him, but when he gave me all of this, it’s all there was.  I just thought that maybe things were done differently here.  Maybe they just never felt the need to separate everything into an expense account and his personal one.”

Rinji shook his head.  “That could be,” he allowed slowly.  “But that seems pretty dangerous.  I mean, the separate accounts are used for safety, really . . . Just in case something unforeseen happens, then there’s the other account to fall back on, not to mention the added ease of being able to differentiate whether it’s an office expense or not . . .”

The door opened, and Fai stepped in, only to stop short when he spotted Rinji, stretched out on his bed.  Saori couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out of her when she saw the strange look on the tai-youkai’s face.  He really had no idea, just what to make of what he was seeing, and it showed in his expression.  “Fai, do you mind if Rinji sleeps with us?” she couldn’t resist asking.

That earned her a very droll kind of look as Fai started unbuttoning his shirt, heading for the bathroom.  “No, it’s fine, but I’m not cuddling with him.  At all,” he tossed over his shoulder.

“That’s . . . kind of gross,” Rinji muttered.  He started to sit up, but Saori caught his arm.

“He’s going to take a shower, nii-chan . . . You can stay till he’s done.”

Rinji didn’t look like he liked that idea especially, either, but he did lie back.  Then he smiled, his amber eyes glowing softly in the dim lamplight.  “All right, Chan-chan.  Tell me, how was your day?  No one was mean or picked on you, did they?”
She laughed since that was what he’d asked her every evening, either in person when he was there at the house or on the phone just before she went to bed.  “It was fine,” she assured him, letting her temple fall against his bicep. “No one was mean, and they didn’t pick on me, either.”

He chuckled, and the warmth of the sound was so welcome, so familiar, that it made her sigh.  “Good, because if they’re not nice to you, onii-chan will be happy to walk you to school every day . . .”

She grinned.  “What would you have done?  If someone had been mean to me?”

He snorted.  “That’s simple.  I’d have taught them the true meaning of fear,” he told her.

She wrinkled her nose.  “Except you’re onii-chan, and onii-chan is entirely too nice and too sweet to do any such thing.”

Heaving a sigh, shaking his head, Rinji shrugged his shoulder to shake her off.  It didn’t work.  “I’ll have you know that I can be just as intimidating as anyone.”

She laughed.  “Of course, you are.”

He sat up, obviously put out by the idea that she was simply humoring him.  “All right, I’m going to bed,” he told her, but he did pause long enough to kiss her forehead.  “You mind if I take these with me?  I’d like to take a better look at them.”

“Okay,” she agreed, sitting up, wrapping her arms around her raised knees.

He gathered up the ledgers, shot her another lopsided little grin.  “Night, Saori-chan.  Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

She giggled, wiggling her fingers at him when he paused in the doorway and glanced back at her.

He closed the door behind himself, and she flopped back against the pillows once more.  She wasn’t sure that Fai wouldn’t mind, but since he was here, Rinji was the best one to ask, anyway.  Still, why did she feel like there was something she ought to know, maybe ought to see, that she was missing entirely . . .?

Fai slipped out of the bathroom a few minutes later, wearing a pair of sleeping pants—she’d never seen those before—and a tee-shirt for good measure.  “I prefer the way you usually sleep,” she ventured as he rounded the bed and stretched out beside her.

“Your family’s strange, Saori.  I wasn’t entirely sure you were joking about him sleeping in here with us.”

She shook her head but laughed.  “He’s in a guest room, if you must know.  But I’m glad he’s here.”

Fai sighed, but the sound was more akin to a near-yawn than a sound of exasperation.  “He did offer to pay for the repairs in the foyer,” he mumbled.  “I realize that I should be magnanimous and tell him not to worry about it, but he tried to blast me to Kingdom Come.”

She wrinkled her nose, rolled over to snuggle against Fai’s side.  “He wouldn’t have done that,” she scoffed.

Fai didn’t look like he agreed, but he did slip his arms around her, pulling her a little closer.  “I still can’t get over how much he looks like your grandfather,” he admitted.

“Right?  They even smell very similar.  Used to confuse me so much when I was a pup . . .”

Fai grunted.  “I did mention that I think your family’s a little strange, didn’t I?”

She yawned, her eyes slowly drifting closed.  She was just too comfortable, too warm, too everything . . . “You’ll like them.  They’ll grow on you.”

This time, he snorted.  “Yep, just like a fungus—or a virus that you just can’t shake . . .”

She giggled.  “No, you will.  I promise.”

Letting out a deep breath, he kissed her forehead, gave her a little squeeze.  “Go to sleep, Saori.  Your Candy Land is waiting for you.”

She smiled, or at least, she thought she did.  Maybe she didn’t.  She was too close to sleep to tell.