InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Rite of Kinship ( Chapter 51 )

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

Scowling at the sight of the niji no hebi garb—traditional clothing, created from the hide of the formidable rainbow serpent—Ben tucked in the haori and tied the hakama before reaching for the swords that he'd dropped onto the bed as he hurriedly changed clothes.

He wasn't even sure, why he'd packed the outfit that he rarely ever wore.  The scales of the hide were small, as pliable as satin, giving off an iridescent kind of sheen over the underlying black skin—hence the name.  It had been one of his first assignments after he'd come of age: to hunt down the legendary youkai beast and to slay it to bring back the hide.  Hidekea had formally issued the challenge to prove Ben's abilities—his strength—as well as to create the clothing that Ben had worn for a long, long time after that.  Yukina had created the raiment that retained the armor-like resistance against physical attacks as well as the inherent ability to withstand poisons, as well.  These days, however, the outfit was more for show than for actual use, worn mostly at formal occasions when required, such as youkai weddings and the like.

Maybe . . .

Maybe he'd always known deep down that it would come to something like this.

Charity hurried into the room, shrugging on a beat-up, old brown leather backpack that was not only huge, but looked like it had seen much better days.  Upon seeing her with that on and wearing InuYasha's fire-rat clothing, Ben raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.  "What do you think you're doing?" he asked rather sharply.

She blinked and glanced at him, ears twitching atop her head as she turned her attention to adjusting the back pack once more.  "I'm coming with you," she stated flatly.

He barked out a terse laugh.  "I'm sorry.  I thought I just heard you say that you're coming with me, which you most certainly are not doing."

She rolled her eyes and gave the straps a good tug.  "Yes, I am."

"Charity, I don't think you—"

She stomped over to him, jammed her index finger two inches from his nose.  "You heard what Hana-san said, didn't you?  Kyouhei-san might well be hurt, Ben, and I'm not going to sit here, waiting, if I can help him!  You seem to forget that I saw what they did to Manami-san!"

Snapping his mouth closed on the argument he'd been forming, Ben winced.  "Even then, I don't want you—"

"I'm going!"

"You're not!"

"I am!"

"Charity—"

"Ben," Toga interrupted as he strode into the room.  "You cannot go."

Whipping his head to the side to glower at Toga, Ben narrowed his eyes.  "I am," he stated.  "I'm not going to sit here while—"

Toga held up a hand.  "I'm going to send InuYasha and Ryomaru—which means, daughter of mine, you need to return that outfit . . . Anyway, they're to bring in your parents back and locate Kyouhei-san.  You're too close to the situation, and—"

"No," Ben argued, turning to face the tai-youkai.  "It's my family—my brother—and I'm going to deal with this alone."

"That's exactly why I'm asking you to stand down," Toga replied.  "You're not thinking clearly, and in this situation, you're going to be walking straight into the viper's nest, so to speak.  You cannot.  You have too much invested in this."

"I am thinking clearly," Ben argued, his voice deceptively calm.  "This has gone on long enough.  I'm going to end it, one way or another."

Toga's eyes flashed as he leveled a glower at Ben.  "Okay, then let me put this another way—not as the tai-youkai, but as a father.  My daughter's life depends upon yours.  If you go in there without thinking, you might well end up, dead.  Have you ever thought about just how many youkai could be there?  Hana said that there are a number of youkai in and out of there daily for private meetings with your father.  Do you think that they'll just let you walk in and grab your brother?"

"I know what I'm doing, Toga," Ben countered.  "And I know that Charity's future lies with me, but no matter what you say, you cannot command me not to go."

"I beg to differ," Toga retorted.

Straightening his back, Ben drew a deep breath.  There was only one way to end this argument.  He just had to say it . . . "I invoke the Rite of Kinship."

"Damn it!" Toga bellowed.  "You think that will solve anything?"

"I don't," Ben said.  "But it's my right, and there's not a thing you can do about it now."

Toga looked like he wanted to argue, but he knew the ancient bylaws as well as Ben did.  Even so, Ben rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the scattered remnants of his calm in order to soften the blow to the tai-youkai's ego.  "I know what I'm doing, Toga, and I'm not walking in there with any death wishes.  Send those two if you wish, but only to round up whatever youkai are there for questioning or for whatever information they'll give you, but chichiue turned this into a family matter the moment hahaue chose to raise a hand against Manami and—God forbid—Kyouhei, too.  As for Charity . . . She's coming with me.  Kyouhei might need her."

Toga gritted his teeth.  "Then I'll—"

"You cannot," Ben interrupted.  "You're one of the main ones they're after.  Don't worry.  I'll protect Charity with my life."

Toga grunted, glowering at Ben.  "That's what I'm afraid of."

Charity hurried over to hug her father.  "We'll be careful, Papa."

He hugged her a moment longer than he needed to.  "You'd better be."


"Okay, we go in first.  Oyaji and I'll round up anyone who's there for their meetings while you locate your father.  Once we get them all cleared out, then you can go in and find Kyouhei," Ryomaru said as they stood on the hill, looking down at the sprawling compound that Hidekea and Yukina called home.  "That back building looks like servants' quarters, so I'm guessing we don't have much to worry about there—unless Muira's servants are gung-ho about rushing in to save their miserable excuse for a master . . ."

Hana shook her head quickly.

Ryomaru snorted indelicately.  "Didn't fucking think so."

They'd traveled all afternoon and well into the night, arriving just after two in the morning, and everything was quiet—almost eerily so.

"Shouldn't be too damn hard," InuYasha pointed out.  "Looks like they're all sleeping anyway."

True enough.  All the lights were out, and the place was silent.  "Hana, do you have any idea where they would have Kyouhei now?"

She bit her lip.  She'd wanted to return, and they needed her, just to help them locate Kyouhei as quickly as they could.  "They . . . They might have him in the building where they were holding Manami-san . . . That's where they usually keep prisoners . . . if he's not in his room . . ."

"Can you check it without being caught?" InuYasha asked, pointedly looking at Charity.

"Yes."

Hana grimaced.  "We can try his room first.  If . . ." she looked wildly hopeful, though the darkness that belied her gaze could not be forced aside as easily.  "Maybe I was wrong . . . Maybe he didn't overhear us, after all . . . I-I-I mean he didn't say anything when Kyouhei-sama opened the shoji screen . . ." She made a face, very nearly dissolved in tears.  But she bit it back quite admirably.  "His room has a private door.  We can check there first . . . If . . . If he's not there, the building—the one they used for the woman—It has an identilock . . . Only Hidekea-sama and Kyouhei-sama could open it . . ."

Ben’s scowl darkened.  "Hahaue can't?"

The servant girl quickly shook her head.  "There was no need . . ."

"See what you can do.  If he's in there, then Ben can make him open the damn door before he takes him on," InuYasha growled.  "All right, enough talk.  Let's go."

Ben grabbed Charity's hand before she could slip away.  "You . . . Charity . . ."

She smiled, understanding just what he was trying to say.  "I'll be careful," she promised him.  Her expression shifted just as quickly, though, and she frowned, her gaze wide, worried, almost fearful.  "Just . . . Whatever we find in there, keep your head, Ben."

He pulled her close for a quick hug, and then he managed a half-smile.  "Go find Kyouhei," he said as he let her go.

She nodded as she hurried to catch up with Hana, reshouldering her backpack along the way.

"You ready?" InuYasha asked Ben.

"Yep," he replied grimly.

Ben and InuYasha ran after Ryomaru, who had taken off, well ahead of anyone else, around the closest side of the 'U' shaped house to access the rooms.  "That one has absolutely no patience at all, does he?" Ben grumbled.

"Keh!"

Ben rolled his eyes since he'd forgotten exactly who he was speaking to.  By the time they reached the courtyard behind the house, Ryomaru already had two youkai handcuffed around the support poles that ran the length of the raised walkway.  "How many more of you bastards are there?" he asked, hands on hips, glowering at the youkai he'd managed to wrangle.

Neither of them would answer, and even in the wan light of the paper lanterns secured to the beams that ran the length of the gaps between the poles, their absolute loathing for Ryomaru was very, very obvious.

"Have it your way," Ryomaru growled, turning to slap open the next shoji screen.  InuYasha was already about two rooms down, slamming open the paper screens, grumbling out loud when all he found were empty rooms.

"If you want that element of surprise, Ben, you'd best go grab it now," Ryomaru called over his shoulder as he stomped off to the next door.

Staring at the room down the insular path to his right, Ben strode away.  The area outside the door as well as along the walkway was a little better lit than the rooms that were being checked for occupants now.  When he reached the final door, he frowned.  He could feel him, couldn’t he?  'Chichiue . . .'

Raising his fist, he slammed it hard against the frame surrounding the fragile sheets of oiled paper.  The shoji screens groaned and quivered under the force of the blow, and he stepped back with his hand on the hilt of his sword to wait.

The door crashed open, revealing a somewhat mussed Hidekea, who looked like he was ready to light into whoever he found on the other side of the screen.  When he saw Ben, however, his eyes widened then narrowed as a wholly unpleasant half-smile surfaced on his features—features so much like Ben's that it was almost akin to looking at himself in the mirror.  It was entirely unsettling . . .

"Benjiro . . . So, you did remember the way home."

"Benjiro?" his mother called out from the darkness behind his father.  "Is it . . .?"

"Ben!" Charity's voice called out from somewhere behind him.  "We can't find him!  He's not in his room, and he's not in that building . . ."

"Where's Kyouhei?" Ben demanded quietly, managing to keep a tight rein on his emotions despite the rage that simmered, just below the calm façade.

Hidekea rumbled out an ominous chuckle.  "That treacherous son of mine?  He's exactly where vermin like him ought to be . . . and I'll be happy to send you down there to keep him company soon enough."

"And just what the fuck does that mean?" InuYasha demanded, stepping up beside Ben to glower at the crazed old panther-youkai.

Hidekea glowered disdainfully at InuYasha, his animosity a palpable thing, even in the stingy light.  "You dare to bring their ilk here, into my domain?  Be gone, hanyou.  I have no use for the miserable likes of you."

"Is that right, you old bastard?" InuYasha growled back.  "If you think you're so tough, then why don't you step out here?  We'll see whose ilk is better."

Ryomaru snorted.  "Keh!  'Cept you can't, oyaji," he reminded him.  "Ol' Ben, here, invoked that rite, so all we can do is stand here and watch."

InuYasha wasn't entirely ready to back down.  He glowered at Hidekea for another long moment before glancing at Ben.  "Fucking figures," he muttered, his ears twitching crazily in silent testimony to his current state of mind.  "You'd better not fuck this up, Philips."

"What, 'rite'?" Hidekea demanded, his irritation spiraling higher and higher by the second.

Ben stared at his father for a long moment before answering.  "The Rite of Kinship," he said.  "You will fight me, and I . . . I'll end this."


Biting her lip as she watched Ben, standing toe to toe with his father, Charity literally had to force her attention away before she forgot her ultimate objective.  That Kyouhei was neither in his room nor in the store house that Hana had mentioned was not something that she'd banked on.  But what, exactly, had Hidekea meant . . .?

"That treacherous son of mine?  He's exactly where vermin like him ought to be . . . and I'll be happy to send you down there to keep him company soon enough."
That's what he'd said.  But what, exactly, did it mean . . .?

'Well, think about it.  Either he means that Kyouhei-san is lower than where we're standing now . . . or he means . . .'

Charity grabbed Hana's arm as the latter looked close to swooning.  "Hidekea's words . . . 'Down there'?  Is there somewhere like that?" she demanded.

Hana blinked, shot Charity a wild-eyed look.  The woman was teetering on the very precarious edge, wasn’t she?  About to lose what little control she had over her mild at the moment . . . Charity shook her head.  "Focus, Hana-san!  Is there somewhere below ground where they might be keeping him?"

"Below . . ." Eyes flashing wide, Hana nodded, grasping the hem of her modest kimono as she sprinted toward the doors that led into the main area of the house.

Charity followed as Hana skidded to a stop, gripping her forehead as she counted the tatami mats.  "Three over, two up," she muttered.  Her hand shot out, and she pointed.  "That one!"

That was all Charity waited to hear.  Yanking the mat off the floor and tossing it aside, she scowled at the wrought iron trap door that was hidden beneath.  There was no handle, however—no way to open it.

"Oji-chan!" she hollered, trying in vain to pry her fingers into the crack around the block.

A moment later, Ryomaru strode into the room, only to stop and glower at the door that Charity was trying to lift.  "Do you know how to open that?" he asked Hana.

The girl shook her head.  "We're forbidden from going down there . . . It's where many of the valuables are kept . . ."

Ryomaru made a face.  "So, it's like a giant vault."

Hana nodded.

Charity grimaced when her claw caught against something, but when she yanked it free, she triggered the mechanism, and, with a loud groan, the panel started to slide back.

"Let me go first, just in case," Ryomaru commanded as he gently moved Charity out of the way.  "You," he went on, poking a finger at Hana.  "You stay here."

Hana nodded as Ryomaru drew his sword and started down the steps.  Charity followed, wincing as her foot falls sounded in the quiet.  There were no sounds, no nothing—as though the very life had been sucked right out of the room that was almost more of a cavern—a huge, hulking space, created of solid iron.  The security lights spaced in about five-foot intervals were only bright enough to lend the area a static sort of glow—a dusky quality that felt as cold and unwelcoming as the rest of the place above ground.

The house was beautiful in the old style, and the rooms that she'd seen were all spotless, decorated with sparse furnishings, despite the full murals, the understated yet expensive pieces of art that were arranged throughout . . . This room, she realized, was an antique collector's dream, packed full of various works of art in a myriad of mediums: statues of jade, of iron, vases that were so thin that the light could almost pass through them, suits of old-fashioned armor from various periods of time, paintings, tapestries, even decorated shota screens that stretched out around her in what felt like an unending space. . . And yet, there was something wholly horrifying about it all, too, though Charity would have been hard-pressed to explain just why she felt that way.  She had a feeling that it might well have something to do with the meticulous way in which everything was arranged or the silence that felt so artificial, so contrived . . .

The room was huge, vast, and felt more like a vault.  The entire thing felt like it was formed entirely out of iron, giving it an infinitely cold sort of feel.

“This place is like a kami-forsaken tomb,” Ryomaru growled under his breath.  He stopped before a thick panel door on the far side of the chamber.  It had a keypad lock with a slowly flashing red light to indicate that the system was active.  From where they stood on the outside of it, she couldn't sense anything—not entirely surprising, she thought, given that the walls had to be a good foot thick, too . . .

Ryomaru dropped his sword back into the scabbard secured to his hip and dug his phone out of his pocket along with a short cord.  He hooked it to the number pad and fiddled with the phone for a minute.  A moment later, the light flashed from red to a solid green as a soft beep announced that the lock had released.  Ryomaru stashed the phone and cord away again as the door slid open.

"Kyouhei-san!" Charity gasped, pushing past Ryomaru as she stumbled into the darkened chamber.  Much smaller than the main one, she wasn't entirely sure what this room might have been created for, but at the moment, she didn't care, either.  Kyouhei half-stood, half-dangled over a foot-diameter drain in the floor, suspended by his wrists, caught up over his head and wrapped in chains so thick that she doubted that she could even get her hands around one of the links.  Leaning forward, all of his weight supported by his bound hands since his knees had buckled, feet simply dragging against the floor, he wasn't conscious.  As she got closer, as her eyes adjusted to the even more stingy light from the one security bulb high over head that was so dim that it might as well not be turned on at all, she had to wonder if he weren't far better off to remain unconscious.  Stripped down to a low-riding pair of hakama, his entire chest was nothing but a web of bruised and mottled flesh, like someone had beaten him with a baseball bat . . . or a bokken . . .

"How will we get him down?" she demanded as Ryomaru stepped back to size up the chains.  "Kami," she breathed, unable to staunch the little whine that escaped her as she stepped around him, only to clap a hand over her mouth.  If she had thought that Manami's back looked terrible, Kyouhei's looked even worse.  In the dim light, she couldn't tell if he even had any skin left intact.  Rent and torn to the point that the skin on his shoulder blades was hanging in stripped-away tatters, he looked like someone had tried to peel him right out of his skin, and Charity had to bite back the bitter rise of bile that threatened to choke her.

"Come here," Ryomaru instructed, his expression carefully blanked as he drew his sword and separated it into the twin blades while he examined the length of ridiculously thick rope that was tied to a massive eye hook embedded into the wall.  The other end of the rope extended upward where it was secured to the end of the chain that rose above them from where they secured Kyouhei’s wrists.  That chain was looped through the intersection of the two thick metal beams easily twenty feet off the floor.  "I'm gonna cut him down, but you need to try to catch him if you can," he said.  "He don't need to hit the floor if we can help it."

She did as she was told, slipping her arms around Kyouhei’s upper chest and bracing her stance against the floor.  Then she nodded to let Ryomaru know that she was ready.

"On the count of three," Ryomaru said, "and then, try to get him out of the way because that chain's gonna come down, and if it hits him, straight on, it'll probably kill him."

"Okay," she ground out.

Ryomaru readied his stance.  "One . . . Two . . . Three!" he yelled, bringing his swords together against the rope like scissors.  The very second that Charity felt the slack of the chain, she pushed off the ground, managed to move the unconscious man a few feet away—just enough to keep him from taking the brunt of that falling chain, full on.  The chain slipped off his wrists since the tension of them being held taut was what had actually held him, and she carefully rolled him onto his stomach as she shrugged off the backpack—Kagome-oba-chan's ancient bag that she'd carried with her through the well and into the past—and rifled through it for the supplies she might need to clean him up and to really be able to assess the damage.  Taking out the large squeeze bottle of distilled water, she carefully washed off his back, wincing at the wounds she could see—and the ones she couldn't.  "It's too dark in here," she growled in frustration as she dug out a flashlight.  Ryomaru took it and turned it on, holding it steady as he sucked in a sharp breath and uttered a low growl.

"Is he poisoned?"

She shook her head.  "I can't tell . . . I think he could be, depending on how long ago they did this to him," she muttered.  "The lacerations aren't healing, but I can't tell if the skin is atrophied or not . . ."  She winced again, swallowed hard as she set the bottle of water aside and reached for a spray-on herbal concoction that should help to speed up his healing processes—providing that he wasn't poisoned, that was . . . "Do you think his mother . . .?"

"Don't think about it, Charity," Ryomaru told her gruffly.  "Let's just get him back upstairs and into better light so you can get him as cleaned up as you can—hopefully before he wakes up, because he's just not gonna feel like doing a whole hell of a lot, all things considered."