InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 2: Defiance ❯ Confusion ( Chapter 16 )

~~Chapter 16~~

~Confusion~

 

~*~

 

 

Sierra awoke slowly, groaning as her head thumped out a rhythm she wanted to ignore.

 

Being awake hurt.

 

Rolling out of bed with a heavy sigh, Sierra stumbled to the bathroom and washed her face. She even managed to brush her teeth, thinking vaguely that she was glad that she was off for the week. She didn't even want to leave her apartment. She hadn't as much as stepped a foot outside her door in the two days since she'd been home.

 

She wasn't sure if she was angrier at Toga for not telling her, more upset that Sesshoumaru had managed to run her off, at least before she got a chance to tell Toga what she thought of his `secret', more betrayed that he had flat-out lied to her about Fujiko, or sadder that Toga hadn't trusted her enough to tell her in the beginning.

 

`Would you have believed him?'

 

She winced. No, she wouldn't have. How could she? She had stopped believing in Santa Claus a long time ago. She'd stopped believing in pots of gold at the end of rainbows, in fairies, in ogres, in unicorns, and even in `happily ever afters' . . . at least, she had until she met Toga. Somehow he'd made her think that the `happily ever after' might be possible. `I was so wrong . . .'

 

Wandering out of the bathroom and heading toward the refrigerator, Sierra glanced at the answering machine in passing. The digital display told her that there were fifty messages waiting for her. How many would there have been if it had held more than fifty? `Toga . . . why didn't you tell me?' For some reason, the knowledge that he had filled her answering machine hurt even more, and she blinked back sudden tears as she hit the `delete all' button without listening to a single message.

 

`He's just like Allan,' she thought as she grabbed a container of orange juice and broke one of her self-imposed rules by drinking straight from the carton. `Just like him, and I . . . I hate him . . .' Stubbornly blinking back tears, Sierra tried to ignore the other voice that whispered in the back of her mind. `You don't hate him . . . and you know you don't . . .'

 

Maybe that was the problem. After all this, she couldn't hate him, and maybe that was what hurt the most.

 

Slamming the orange juice down on the table as she pushed the refrigerator closed with her foot, Sierra shook her head. “Come on, Sie. You can't spend the rest of your life hiding . . .”

 

With a sigh, she dragged a weary hand over her face and shuffled over to the suitcase she left just inside the door.

 

It didn't take long to unpack. Hanging up the clothes she hadn't worn took less than five minutes. Grabbing the stack of panties and bras to stuff them back into her drawer, Sierra frowned as a slip of paper fell out of her clothes. She put away the clothes before she stooped to retrieve it. Fine linen stationery greeted her, and she slowly unfolded it. Another paper fell into her lap but she didn't read it right away. Staring incredulously at the fine scrawl on the paper, she shook her head slowly, her eyes flaring wide as a strange sort of numbness set in moments before it gave way to a hot wash of anger.

 

:

 

Crawford-san:

 

Enclosed is reimbursement for your inconvenience.

 

Inutaisho.

 

:

 

A sense of foreboding flooded over Sierra as she slowly lifted the fallen bit of paper. Eye narrowing as she stared at the check and tried to make sense of the number printed on it, she let her head fall back as near-hysterical laughter spilled from her lips.

 

`Five hundred thousand dollars . . . ? So is that what it's worth for him to get rid of me . . . ? What a . . . a . . .'

 

Was she supposed to be grateful for Sesshoumaru Inutaisho's feigned generosity? Was the check meant to make her feel better about what he—what his son—had done to her? Should it pacify her into thinking that they weren't horrible, terrible people?

 

`No,' she thought, shaking her head as she dropped the check onto the coverlet beside her and wiped her hands on her legs as though she were trying to rub off something vile, something contemptible. It was an insult, wasn't it? Did Sesshoumaru honestly think that she'd only seen Toga as a paycheck of sorts?

 

Rising to her feet, she stalked across the room, throwing open her closet and grabbing the first thing she laid hands on. The mere thought of that check made her feel dirty.

 

Did Toga know about it?

 

A fresh swell of absolute rage rose to choke her, and she gritted her teeth together so hard that her jaw ached as she tugged her clothes on. They were so rich that they could stand to throw money around blindly? Uttering a low, frustrated growl, Sierra yanked her shoes on and snatched the offending bits of paper off the bed.

 

Well, she wasn't going to accept it, not by a long shot. Just what kind of person did they think she was, anyway? She hadn't done a thing to them, had she? `No,' she thought as she snatched her coat on her way out the door, `not a damn thing . . .'

 

She might not be rich, but at least she had integrity—at least she'd never, ever set out to hurt someone on purpose, and that had to mean something, didn't it? As far as she was concerned, the entire family could take their money and burn in hell along with it . . .

 

 

-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-

 

 

Toga stared at the phone with a scowl. `Do you really think she'll answer this time?'

 

He winced. No . . . no, he really didn't.

 

`Damn you, Father . . . what have you done?'

 

Then again, he had to allow that he should have told Sierra, himself, but his mother was right. How was he supposed to tell her something as big as that? How was he supposed to explain to her that he wasn't actually human?

 

Still, his father shouldn't have done what he did, either. He didn't have the right, did he? Just because Sesshoumaru was his father, he hadn't had the right to tell her a damn thing, regardless of what his intentions were. That he'd done it on purpose was a given—yet another example of Sesshoumaru's desire to run Toga's life, and damned if Toga was going to stand for it. Unfortunately, Sierra had to want to listen to him in order for Toga to tell her anything, and he didn't have to be brilliant to know that she was avoiding him on purpose. Not for the first time, he had to wonder exactly what his father had told her. With a sigh, Toga rubbed his reddened eyes—he still had yet to sleep since he'd returned from Japan, and he dialed her number one more. Somehow he had to get her to listen.

 

She was the one, and if he hadn't known it already, he did now. There was no doubt in his mind that Sierra, with her gentle laughter, her smile that lit her entire being, was the one that he wanted to be with.

 

The phone rang, and for a heart-stopping moment, Toga thought maybe it was Sierra. When he saw the number on the caller ID, he sighed but answered it anyway. “Hello?”

 

“Toga! You left so suddenly . . . are you okay?”

 

He smiled wanly at the sound of his aunt's concerned voice. Of all his relatives, she was the one he'd always known could give him the best advice . . . She was the one he trusted. “Tell me how to fix this?” he muttered with a half-hearted sigh.

 

Kagome sighed. “Aww . . . she won't listen?”

 

Toga shook his head. “No, she won't, and I . . . I don't know how to get her to want to.”

 

“That's the key, right? Making her want to listen . . . I wish I had some answers for you. Maybe you should try to remind her why she wanted to be with you, in the beginning.”

 

Rubbing a weary hand over his face, Toga shook his head as a bitter wave of hopelessness crashed over him. “This would be so much easier if I were human . . . even half-human . . .”

 

She laughed softly, and for some reason, he couldn't help but feel like a pup all over again. “Ah, now there's one I've not heard before. You wish you were hanyou?”

 

Toga shrugged. “No one told Uncle Yasha he couldn't be with a human.”

 

Kagome sighed. “Sweetie, your Uncle Yasha had a whole host of other problems. Life isn't easy, but if you're meant to be with Sierra, then you'll find a way to make her listen to you. You're no different now than you were before she knew of your heritage.”

 

“I wish I believed you.”

 

“You don't have to believe me. Just give it time.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“I've got to go. It's almost time for InuYasha to get home, and I've not started dinner yet . . . but if you need me for anything, just call, okay?”

 

“All right.”

 

“I love you, Toga.”

 

He smiled slightly. “You, too.”

 

Dropping the phone onto the charger with a heavy breath, Toga tried to will it to ring again. It didn't work.

 

`Keh. Pathetic . . . look what you've been reduced to . . .' With an inward wince, Toga wandered off to take a shower.

 

Torturing himself with the hottest shower he could stand, Toga stood under the tap until the heat faded and the tepid stream turned cold. Steam still lingered in the bathroom as he draped a towel around his hips and tucked the ends together.

 

Using another towel to squeeze as much moisture out of his hair as he could, Toga wiped the mirror off with his free hand. It clouded back over within moments. Personally, he preferred Uncle Yasha's habit of shaking off the excess water. Kagura, however, wasn't fond of that, so Toga had gotten used to using a towel instead though he did indulge the urge every once in awhile—just never, ever in his mother's domain . . .

 

A dull thud made Toga stop and listen. Opening the bathroom door only to be hit by the sudden blast of cooler air, he winced but was galvanized into action when another knock sounded on the door.

 

Wrinkling his nose to get rid of the scent of the soap, Toga realized too late that he couldn't smell much of anything. With a snort, he swung open the door and stepped back in surprise as his heart stopped for a painful moment before slamming hard against his ribcage. “S-Sierra?”

 

Her eyes were absolutely blazing with angry fire. She waved a bit of paper in front of his face so fast that he couldn't discern it. She evidently thought he should know what it was. Her voice trembled with rage when she spoke. “You . . . you . . . jerk! I thought you were different! You lied to me, you used me—you hurt me, and I . . . I thought . . . Oh, just take this!” she bellowed, stuffing the paper into Toga's hand as he blinked stupidly. “Take it, and tell your father to shove it up his . . . ass!”

 

Toga didn't even look at the slip of paper she gave him. She whirled around on her heel to leave. Toga grabbed her wrist, the cloying sense of desperation turning over in his stomach in a wholly sickening sort of way. “Sierra, please . . . just listen . . . don't go.”

 

She stopped but didn't look back at him. Shoulders slumping as her head bent forward, she shook her head slowly. “Why, Toga? Why didn't you tell me you were engaged?”

 

Her question caught him off guard, and he shook his head as though to refute the claim. “Come again?”

 

She bit out an incredulous laugh followed by a sniffle as she lifted her free hand to wipe her cheeks. Toga winced. “Your father said that you're engaged . . . to that woman . . . or whatever she is . . .” Turning her head to glance over her shoulder at him, Sierra's eyes were brimming with tears that hadn't fallen. “What are you?”

 

Toga nearly whined. He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head again. “I'm not engaged. My father lied to you . . . and I should have protected you from him. I'm sorry, I . . . I failed.” He willed himself to let go of her, and as his hand dropped away, Toga turned, leaning back against the door. “You deserve someone who can protect you . . . someone who won't hurt you.”

 

“You . . . you're not . . .?” she asked in a tiny voice, an underlying hope lending her a breathy air.

 

“No,” he reiterated, horrified at the pain that surrounded her like a shroud. “No! I wouldn't . . . Please believe me, Sierra . . . please . . .”

 

She slowly faced him, her gaze penetrating, intense. “Can I ask you one question?”

 

He nodded miserably as he crumpled the paper tighter in his hand.

 

Narrowing her gaze, she seemed to be searching him for any sign of recognition, as though she weren't quite certain that she really knew him, after all. “Why didn't you tell me? About what you are?”

 

“What I am?” he echoed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

 

“I saw him,” she blurted, her eyes lit by a curious fear, by the absolute horror of whatever it was that his father had done to her. “I saw . . . and you're . . . you're one of those things, too, aren't you? You're a . . . a . . . My God, what the hell are you?” she screeched, burying her face in her hands as she doubled over, as if she felt the need to protect herself from him.

 

“What did he do to you?” Toga demanded, unable to keep the harshness out of his tone as he grasped her hands and pulled them away from her face. “Sierra, tell me! What did he do?”

 

She shook her head miserably, choking on a sob that she tried to hold in. “I . . . I don't know . . . There was this—this green . . . rope or . . . or something,” she managed to choke out, “and he had . . . these teeth . . . and claws . . . and . . .”

 

Grimacing as he struggled to comprehend the idea that Sesshoumaru had raised his energy whip against her, Toga ground his teeth together and let go of her wrists. “Did he hurt you?” he forced himself to ask, loathe to hear the answer.

 

She shook her head and dashed her hand over her eyes, staunching the flow of her tears with a level of vindictiveness that he hadn't realized she possessed. “N-no,” she said, her voice thin and weak, wrapping her arms around herself in a wholly protective sort of way. “I don't . . . understand,” she whispered. “I don't understand any of it . . .”

 

“He . . . he showed you . . .?” Toga muttered incredulously. It occurred to him, though, that Sesshoumaru would do something as drastic as that. As obsessed as he was with the idea of Toga staying away from humans, he'd do it. That Sierra had followed Toga all the way to Tokyo . . . well, Sesshoumaru would have had to be stupid not to realize exactly what that meant, wouldn't he? “Of course he did . . .”

 

“A-are you . . . like . . . him . . .?” she asked. The hesitation in her voice was a painful thing.

 

“Sierra . . . you know me, don't you?” he countered softly.

 

She slowly lifted her gaze to meet his, and as much as he hated to see the dampness brightening her eyes, he refused to look away. Lips trembling, nostrils quivering, she stared at him. “You should have told me,” she whispered at length, shaking her head. “I know; I know . . . Maybe I wouldn't have believed you, but . . . but you should have tried . . .”

 

He shrugged. “I wanted to . . . Father warned me that I shouldn't tell humans. He said that they don't understand.” His gaze shifted to stare at her. She was looking at the floor, arms crossed protectively over her stomach. Her hair spilled over her shoulders in gentle waves, and despite the distinct redness on her nose, Toga was certain he'd never see a more beautiful woman in his life. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat as emotion rose to choke him, as he felt her slipping away. She didn't trust him—he could feel it—and that tore his soul wide open. “I thought . . . if I didn't tell you . . . I thought he wouldn't be able to hurt you . . . I thought he'd leave you alone.”

 

She shook her head slowly, drawing a deep breath, releasing it in a gust of a sigh. “Toga . . .”

 

“Maybe a part of me thought I could hide it . . .” he went on, talking more to himself than to her. “It's funny. I was never ashamed of being youkai until I saw the lengths my father's gone to, to try to keep me from being with a human.”

 

She lifted her chin just a little; he could feel her gazing at him through the thick fringe of her eyelashes—eyelashes that were still damp from her tears.

 

Leaning in the doorway as he stared at her, unable to do a thing to help her, unable to stop the flow of raw pain that radiated off her in vicious waves, Toga shook his head. “If there were any way . . . if I thought I could do it . . . I'd give it all up for you.”

 

That brought her face up the rest of the way. The tears she'd been struggling to hold back spilled over. He winced. “Don't cry . . . please . . .”

 

She tried to stop. It made her cry harder. Slowly, hesitantly, he held out his hand to her. She stared at it for a few moments then took it, letting him pull her inside the apartment before he closed the door.

 

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled as she let him pull her into his arms. “I'll tell you whatever you want to know, just please don't cry.”

 

“Just . . . don't keep things from me,” she told him, her voice muffled by his body. “Just . . . hold me.”

 

Toga let out his breath in a rush of relief, knees weak as the doubt, the emotion, of the last few days flowed out of his body. “All right,” he agreed, unsure which he was agreeing to. In the end, he supposed he meant both. “All right.”

 

It took several minutes before Sierra managed to stop sobbing. Toga did the only thing he could do, holding her and trying to reassure her through his gestures that he was there, that he wouldn't go anywhere.

 

When she finally leaned away, she offered him a trembling smile with her eyes still full of tears. Gently, he wiped her cheeks with his thumbs and kissed her forehead. “I'm sorry, Sierra. I'm sorry; I'm sorry; I'm sorry . . .”

 

“And he was lying about . . . about her?” she asked again, her cheek resting against his heart.

 

“Yes, he was,” Toga insisted. “I should have known he'd say something—do something . . . I should have been there to stop him, and . . . kami, I'm sorry . . .”

 

“Stop apologizing, Toga. I—” She gasped suddenly and jerked away from him as her cheeks reddened and her eyes skittered away. “O-o-oh, I forgot . . . I didn't . . .”

 

Toga frowned then glanced down, remembering a little too late that he'd just taken a shower and hadn't had time to get dressed before he'd answered the door. “I'll . . . get dressed,” he mumbled quickly as he hurried past her, down the hallway to his bedroom. His own face was hot with color as he berated himself for making her feel uncomfortable all over again . . .

 

`Baka! Bet that looked good . . .' he thought with a mental snort. `Baka, baka, baka!'

 

As he reached for a pair of pants, he frowned at the paper in his hand. He'd forgotten he had it. Carefully smoothing it, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the writing he knew too well. A low growl welled up in him, escalating in both volume and outrage as he strode over and slammed the paper onto his dresser. `Damn him . . .'

 

Dragging on a pair of jeans and a cream colored long sleeved knit shirt, Toga made a face and left the three neck buttons open before heading back out to the living room. Sierra had removed her coat but still stood, leaning against the sofa. “He tried to pay you off?” Toga asked, barely containing the rage in his voice.

 

She nodded slowly then shook her head. “The note I found with it in my bag said that it was for `reimbursement'.”

 

He clenched his jaw closed, fighting to contain the encompassing anger that turned his stomach. Unconsciously flexing his fingers, Toga didn't realize that his disguise was losing its power of concealment, forgot that he'd always been told that the spell couldn't hold if he were to allow himself to get too close to losing control of his temper. Since he'd had to replace the concealment after Halloween, he alone was responsible for holding it together. Reaching for the phone, his hand moving in a blur of movement as Sierra gasped softly, Toga dialed his father's number and loosened his hold on the phone before it crumbled in his hand.

 

“Inutaisho Sesshoumaru's office.”

 

“Get me my father. Now.”

 

The secretary paused a moment. “Inutaisho-san is currently in a meeting . . . would you like to leave a message?”

 

Toga snorted, temper escalating at the perceived power play. “I don't give a fuck if he's in the middle of his own funeral. Get him now.”

 

Another pause. “Please hold.”

 

Unable to stave back the low growl as the tinny sounds of Muzac filled his ears, Toga drummed his claws—now very prevalent—against the table.

 

“I assume this could not wait, Toga?”

 

“No, Father, it couldn't. What the fuck did you think you were doing? It wasn't enough that you paid off Lily's father to move her out of my life, you thought you'd do the same to Sierra?”

 

Sesshoumaru uttered a low sound in his throat: one he often made when he was irritated about something. “Is that what she told you? I assure you, I was simply—”

 

“Simply fucking around in my life for the last damn time, Father! I've had enough of your meddling! Find yourself another pup to serve you because This Toga is finished!”

 

Toga never heard the rest of whatever Sesshoumaru started to say. With a pitiful crack, the receiver broke into pieces and fell out of his hand in a pathetic sprinkling of plastic bits and pieces.

 

Glancing up at Sierra when she gasped, Toga was horrified to see her: hands covering her mouth, absolute terror on her face. “Your eyes,” she mumbled, “they're . . . red . . .”

 

Her words were enough to shock him out of some of his anger. Blinking suddenly, Toga glanced into the mirror above the table and closed his eyes against the sight of his own glowing red eyes. He forced himself to draw a few deep breaths. When he looked again, his eyes were normal.

 

Afraid to look at her, afraid to see her fear, Toga slowly peeked over his shoulder. The fear was gone, however, replaced by confusion. “What happened to you?” she asked softly.

 

Toga sighed, dragging his hands over his face as he willed away the residual anger that would do nothing to aid his plight. “This is how I normally look. I'm a dog-youkai—inu-youkai.”

 

She shook her head. “No . . . I meant . . . your eyes. I didn't know them.”

 

He stared at her for several long heartbeats, his gaze assessing her as he tried to decide whether or not she was up to seeing the truth—the real truth—of what he was—what he could be. “Do you trust me?”

 

Sierra considered that question for a moment. Finally she nodded. “I do . . . when I recognize your eyes.”

 

Toga stalked back to his bedroom to retrieve the Mokomoko-sama before he dragged on his shoes and grabbed his coat. “Come on. I've got something to show you . . . just remember: I swore I'd protect you. I won't hurt you. I'd never hurt you . . . I promise you that.”

 

Sierra nodded slowly and shrugged on her coat before following him out of the apartment.

 

 

-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-

 

 

“So what's this thing you want to show me?” Sierra asked as she hopped out of the SUV. Since she'd spent the entire hour long trip snuggling with Toga's Mokomoko-sama, she was still holding it in her arms.

 

He chuckled when he saw her, still cuddling the fur against her cheek. Seeing his smile, she laughed softly. “I really, really love this blanket,” she remarked casually.

 

“I need that `blanket',” Toga remarked as he held his hand out for the furry piece.

 

“Need it?” Sierra echoed with a frown, but handed it over. “What are you going to do?”

 

He shot her a half-hearted smile. “I don't want you to be afraid of me. Just . . . I want you to see what I . . . what I can be.”

 

The confusion in her eyes was evident though he could tell that she was trying to believe him, probably reminding herself that he'd promised that he would never hurt her. It bothered him that she was so skittish around him, but telling himself that she'd understand soon enough, Toga strode away to the center of the field as he tossed Mokomoko-sama over his shoulder. The empty land was perfect, surrounded by high trees that blocked everything from view, and while there was a good chance that he'd stand taller than the trees in his inu-youkai form, the area was as close to isolated as he was likely to get. He'd only done this once before. If he wasn't angry it was mentally exhausting to do it. In this case, though . . .

 

Closing his eyes, Toga concentrated on his form. Willing himself to change, he felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. A strange, disjointed feeling surged in his veins, he could feel his body stretching, growing, mutating. His senses shifted. His throat changed. The ability to speak was replaced by a heightening sense of smell, of hearing. He discerned Sierra's sharp gasp. A rippling along his spine as Mokomoko-sama merged with him to create a thick mane, a long line of fur that coated his back and ended in a huge bushy tail.

 

Toga opened his eyes as the tingling died away. It had taken only seconds. It had felt like so much longer.

 

Spotting Sierra smashed back against the vehicle, Toga uttered a soft whine that still managed to bend a few nearby trees. Thought was more difficult in this form, more abstract, more instinctual.

 

`Mate,' mumbled the mind of the youkai. `Toga mate . . .'

 

Padding toward her, head lowered as he stared curiously at the diminutive human, the youkai nudged her with his cold, wet nose. She shrieked, pushing herself up on the SUV, using her feet to shove herself back against the windshield in her frantic effort to get away from him.

 

`Mate fear . . . smell fear . . .'

 

Drawing back, he cocked his head to the side, ears quirking as he regarded the small human. One of his paws was larger than the vehicle she cowered upon. He uttered a soft wuffing noise. She flinched.

 

The youkai sat on his haunches, raised his right paw to wave at her, beckoning her to recognize him. Nose filled with the scent of her terror, he growled low, growled at himself.

 

`Calm fear . . . no fear Toga . . .'

 

She gasped and scooted off the vehicle and grabbed the door handle as she tried to yank it open. The youkai reacted, unwilling to let her escape. Lowering his head to rub against her, he watched as she screamed again and threw her hands over her head in a wholly protective gesture.

 

Moving slowly, as though he understood that he would frighten her if he did not, the great black dog backed away, sank down, legs stretched out, and he laid his muzzle on his paws with a wailing sigh, a mournful sound.

 

`Mate afraid . . . not fear . . . Toga . . .'

 

Lifting his head, gazing sadly at her, the youkai did the only thing he knew to do, the thing Sierra might understand. Rolling over onto his back, poised with his legs drawn up, his tail tucked between them, he stared at her, willed her to understand what he couldn't say.

 

“Oh,” Sierra breathed, recognizing the show of submission for what it was. Slowly reaching out as she pushed herself away from the vehicle, she came forward. He whined.

 

Her touch was halting, wary. Stroking the fur on his face, near his ears before she gained a little more courage and sank her fingers into the thicker fur of his ruff, Sierra's eyes widened as a sense of understanding seemed to dawn on her. “So this is why . . .”

 

And then she laughed.

 

 

~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~* ~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~

A/N:

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Reviewers

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MMorg

DarklessVasion ------ Kyonarai ------ chichiwvu (drama? of course!) ------ FullmetalArchivist ------ angelica incarnate ------ Iggy Lovechild

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FFnet

Akihanah ------ Clawfang ------ sari15 ------ Flames101 ------ My Own Self (Toga was told not to tell the `family secret'… and how do you tell someone you're not human?) ------ Ryguy5387 ------ BloodyKitsune ------ myeerah ------ SilverStarWing ------- lil-epad (Good guess, but no … Sierra is not youkai at all ….) ------ Jasmine Fields ------ almostwhole

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AFFnet ------ AScom

obsesed_wit_fluffy ------ akdreamer ------ Midnight_Sparrow ------ flyer_byer ------ marina

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Final Thought from Sierra:

What a big puppy!

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Defiance): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~