InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Primitive ( Chapter 6 )

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

He wasn't sure, what woke him.  He didn't know if it was a sound or a feeling, if it was a thought or a dream . . .

It wasn't as much a cognizant decision as it was the culmination of a natural instinct, maybe . . . or maybe . . .

Yawning wide, he turned in an unintentional gravitation toward the source of warmth that huddled beside him in the filmy and hazy light of dawn.  Somehow, the coarse, military-grade blankets did little to stave off the chill that permeated from the ground on which they rested, and he deliberately tried to ignore the intrusion of conscious thought as he slipped his arms around the immediate source of warmth, drawing her against him as the heat of her body offered him a semblance of peace, of comfort.

It reminded him of . . .

Well, he didn't know what, exactly, but if he woke up entirely, he probably could place it.  Too bad that the idea of doing that wasn't at all inviting.

'Damned if she isn't nice . . .' his youkai-voice mumbled sleepily.

'Mmmm . . .'

'Warm and soft and . . .'

'Shh . . .'

'And . . . nice . . .'

As if in response to his muddled thoughts, she seemed to scoot in a little closer, her sigh, soft, almost more of a breath than a real sound.  He could feel it in her, though: the subtle relaxing of her body, as though she had been tensed against the chill air—an almost liquid sense of lethargy that reached out from her to him as he balanced on the very edge between awake and asleep.

'We . . . could go back . . . to sleep . . .'

That wasn't a bad idea; not at all.

There was something entirely . . . familiar about her, wasn't there?  Something that he didn't quite understand, and yet, it was there, nonetheless.  Even in the cloudy and murky haze of his mind, he recognized it, even if it wasn't on a wholly coherent sort of level.  Her youki allowed itself to blend with his in a strangely heady sort of symbiosis.

Breathing out a half-sigh, half-moan, she rolled over onto her back, pushing herself up on her elbows as she blinked slowly, as though she were having trouble, clearing her mind.  "G'morn'ng," she mumbled, eyes drifting closed even though she was leaning up.

He grunted, and if she noticed the arms he drew back away from her, she didn't comment—and neither did he.  "Morning," he muttered, rolling away from her, dragging the blanket up over his shoulder, almost over his head.

She yawned loudly, and he could tell from the sound of it that she was stretching, too.  "I'm starving," she finally said, pushing herself up, hunching forward to wrap her arms around her raised knees.  "I guess I might still have one of those pirozhki left . . ."

He was torn.  On the one hand, he was hungry, too.  On the other?  It was damn chilly outside the blanket, and his bag was on the other side of the small shelter.

"I could go catch a few more fish, but we should probably get moving soon," she went on slowly, thoughtfully.

"The pirozhki is fine," he grumbled, tossing aside the blanket and pushing her aside so that he could lean over to snag his backpack.

'Oh, now, calm down . . . She was just offering to catch a few fish.  It's not her fault that you couldn't do it, even if your life depended upon it.'

'Shut up.'

She sighed and crawled out of the shelter to stir up the still smoldering embers of the fire to build it back up again.  Fai stifled a sigh of his own as he ate the priozhki in a few bites and busied himself with folding up the blankets and disassembling the shelter.

'I think you offended her,' his youkai pointed out after a few minutes of judicious silence.

'I didn't.  She doesn't have enough sense to be offended about anything.'

'Well, that wasn't nice, Fai.  Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, did you?'

'Absolutely not.  Dunno what you're talking about, anyway.'

'Unless you're still all bent out of shape over the whole hunting situation.  Just because she was able to catch fish without a line doesn't mean—'

'I’m not bent out of shape over anything.  Whoever heard of fishing without line? No one—other than her oji-chan, anyway . . .'

'You sound like you are . . . And you were last night when you came back to camp, empty-handed, only to find her already back with five stinking fish, cleaned and cooking.  Why was that, anyway?  I mean, you should have been glad—thankful, even—considering you couldn't manage to catch a damn thing . . .'

Fai uttered a terse grunt, but didn't bother to respond to that.

It was natural, wasn't it?  She deliberately took a stab at his ego, and who wouldn't be offended by that?

'Except she wasn't doing any such thing, you realize,' his youkai went on thoughtfully.

'Why are you taking her side?'

His youkai snorted.  'Because you're being kind of a jerk for no good reason.  Okay, so the two of you didn't exactly get off to the best start, but you know, she's not nearly as bad as you'd like to think she is.  In fact, she's kind of . . . compelling, don't you think?'

'Compelling?  Compelling, how?' he scoffed.

'You know, if you can't figure it out, then I don't know what to tell you.'

"I made some tea . . ."

Blinking away the lingering reverie, Fai finished belting the rolled up tarp and blanket and dropped his backpack on the ground.  Letting out a deep breath, he accepted the tin mug she offered him.  His fingertips brushed over hers, and his eyes flashed up to meet her gaze, just in time to see the slight pinking in her cheeks, the way her nostrils flared just a little.  Hair whipping around in the breeze, the flashes of silver that shone in the long strands, the steely gray of her gaze as a strange sort of warmth lit the depths of her eyes . . .

He had no idea just how long a time passed as he stared at her, as he struggled to understand on some level, just what it was that he felt.  Her deep pink, almost rosy, lips parted slightly, the warmth of her breath brushing over him in the gentlest ripple, setting off a chain reaction that shot through him in an instant—something the likes of which he'd never felt before.  He didn't know what it meant, didn't comprehend the surge of feelings that had lain dormant in him up till now . . .

The undercurrent that passed from him to her and back again was electric, almost like a jolt to his system, and he felt the heat suffusing his skin as the strangest urge to quickly look away shot through him.

It was the oddest feeling, the most uncanny sensation—almost like the ground had been yanked out from under him, and, while he didn't fully understand it, something about it almost frightened him . . .

Almost.


Peering around the small convenience store—the fourth one he'd stopped by in the last few hours—Yerik paused for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the weaker and duller light.

It was slow-going.  Basically traveling in a wide arc as he moved a little farther away from the estate, searching for any trace of Fai in any shop or store or even restaurant that he came across, he had to admit that the frustration was mounting at a rapid pace.  He'd always been fairly good at controlling his impatience.  Good thing, considering his resolve was being sorely tested this time . . .

'Relax a little . . . We'll find him.  Besides, there's a reason that Fai's tai-youkai.  You know better than anyone that he's fully capable of defending himself.  Wherever he is, you know he's fine.  He'll be fine.  Don't panic.'

'I'm not panicking.  I don't panic.  I just want to find him sooner rather than later.'

'You will.  Show him your skills, Yerik.  Maybe he'll listen a little better to you if you do.'

Scowling at the logical sound of his youkai's assertions, Yerik strode over to the counter, sizing up the scrawny man behind the counter.  Tall, lanky, hidden in the nondescript folds of the smudged and dingy blue denim shirt he wore, his dark golden hair a little dull and limp, the young man shot Yerik a cursory sort of glance out of his owlish eyes.

"Have you seen this man in the last couple days?" Yerik asked without preamble as he handed the kid his cell phone—the picture of Fai that he'd already pulled up.

The kid took the phone and scowled at the image thoughtfully.  "No, I . . . This is the first time I've worked this week.  Is he a friend of yours . . .?"

"You could say that," Yerik replied.  "Is there anyone else who had been here?"

"Oh, yeah," he replied.  Shuffling out from behind the counter, the young man glanced at him before heading down an aisle toward the back of the store.  Yerik followed.

"This man . . . Have you seen him?" the kid asked, handing the phone to a girl who was busy, stocking shelves.

The girl straightened up, shot Yerik a cursory glance, as she turned her attention to the picture on the cell phone.  "Oh . . . He was here . . . um . . . a couple days ago?  With a woman . . . They were in a white van.  It sounded terrible—the van, I mean."

"And did you see what direction they headed off in?" Yerik asked, taking back his phone and stowing it into the deep pocket of his thick leather coat.

She frowned, tucking a long strand of light brown hair behind her ear.  "She asked how far it was to Barsk."

"I see.  Thank you," Yerik said, turning on his heel and striding toward the door.  Barsk . . .

It was the best lead he'd had so far, and at least he knew the direction they were headed, even if he had no idea just where they might be going.  Barsk was a small town not too far from where he was currently, but if that was their destination, why?

'A white van . . . and a woman . . .?  Just what is Fai up to?' his youkai mused as he slipped back into his car and punched the ignition button.

His scowl darkened as he pulled onto the street, heading out of town in the direction of Barsk.  In all the time that he'd known Fai, he hadn't ever been anything less than utterly pragmatic, entirely too disciplined to just take off for any old reason and without saying anything, even if he'd just mentioned it to Vasili.

No, something about the whole thing just wasn't right.

'And you're sure you're not just overreacting and trying to take a minute to prove your point to your oh-so-esteemed brother?'

Snorting indelicately at the blatant barb of his youkai-voice's words, Yerik dragged a hand through his collar-length golden hair.  'Of course not!  And even so, he was wrong, and this just proves it.  He can't do everything on his own, no matter what he thinks.  There are too many people who depend upon him . . .'

'Including you.'

He grunted, but didn't really answer that.  There wasn't much to say about it, anyway.

The truth of it was that he didn't rightfully know exactly when he'd noticed it all.  He guessed he knew well enough, even early on, just how stressful the weight of everything was on Fai.  He never complained, of course.  He never gave voice to it, and yet, it was always there, too: the strain around his eyes, the tightness in his expression, the pensive looks on his face that Yerik had seen too many times to count over the years, even though that look always disappeared the minute that Fai realized that Yerik was near . . . He didn't know if Fai was trying to hide it from him, but he had a feeling that it was simply that Fai didn't want Yerik to worry about anything, including him . . .

He supposed that it was kind of a strange situation.  Yerik didn't actually remember their parents.  Whether his mind had blocked the memories or if he was simply too young to properly form them, to start with, he didn't know.  From the earliest times that he could recall, Fai had been both his father and his mother, all wrapped in the guise of a brother, and, even though it had to have been exhausting, entirely mentally overwhelming, Fai never, ever complained, either.  No, it was quite the opposite, actually.  Always ready with an encouraging nod, a faint smile, a word or even a gentle ruffling of his hair, Fai had been the one constant in his life . . .

And maybe that was the reason why, as Yerik had grown older, that he'd started to wonder just what he could do to lighten his brother's load.  It bothered him, didn't it?  For every single fond memory that Yerik held dear, he knew that so many of them were created by his brother, whether directly or indirectly.  As busy as he always was, as much stress and strain as he'd been under, Fai still went out of his way to ensure that Yerik's childhood was as close to normal as it could have possibly been.  From the times that he'd dropped everything to spend a few hours—maybe a full afternoon—playing with him in the perfect gardens of the estate, or the times that he'd put aside his work in order to give Yerik advice or just to listen to a recap of his day at school—later, boarding school—and the daily phone calls that Fai never missed, just to make sure that everything was all right . . .

And it wasn't like he'd ever tried to make Yerik feel as though he were interrupting or that he didn't have time, and that was something, too.

It was idyllic, really.

And then . . .

Yerik let out a deep sigh, allowing the spring breeze that filtered through the cracked window to ruffle his hair.  In hindsight, he supposed that it was inevitable.  It really wasn't until the first year at boarding school in Australia that he'd started to hear things—whispers.

He hadn't known that his brother had been challenged so much, so frequently, particularly early on in his tenure as tai-youkai.  So many people were unhappy to have such a young man in the office.  It was nothing against Fai, they'd said.  It was just the belief that someone so untried had no right to call themselves tai-youkai, regardless of his upbringing.

The home that he was raised in had been purposefully removed from the rest of the world, like a haven that Fai had created just for Yerik, worlds away from the strife and tension that made up life outside of the walls of the grand estate.  Yerik hadn't realized that the vast majority of his homeland was made up of poor and poorer, hadn't realized just how much of a charmed existence he actually lived.  Sure, he had been taught how to fight, how to protect himself, how to do all those things that Fai also knew.  But Fai had also opted instead to bring in private tutors for the majority of Yerik's early schooling, and those tutors hadn't ever done anything to really shed light on the rest of the world, either.  Yerik figured that was how Fai had wanted it, and, while Yerik could and did appreciate it, he couldn't help but to feel like he owed his brother so much, particularly as he'd grown older, as the mantle of innocence that Fai had so carefully wrapped him in slowly fell away.

Maybe that was where the idea had come from.  The first couple years, his roommate was the son of a fairly well-known hunter in Australia, and he didn't know when, exactly, the thought had occurred to him, but the more he'd considered things, the more he'd thought things over, the more convinced he'd become.  As far as he knew, Fai didn't have or didn't speak of hunters that he employed.  If he did have some, they weren't close by, and Yerik had realized that on some of those nights when Fai had slipped out of the castle without any real fanfare that he was likely doing the job himself, and for some reason, the idea of his great and noble brother, hunting down the very dregs of youkai society bothered him.

He could do it, couldn't he?  That was what he wanted.  He could do it, was trained for it, even if that wasn't what Fai's intention ever was.  What he hadn't expected was for his brother to be so damn set against the very idea.

Oh, but he was . . .

"Absolutely not.  I forbid it."

Following Fai into the study, Yerik caught the door before his brother could slam it in his face and hurried in after him.  "It's a good plan, Fai," he insisted.  "You're tai-youkai.  You shouldn't be out there, hunting down rogue youkai!"

"And you should?" Fai challenged with a shake of his head.  "I said no."

"You can't forbid me from doing something," Yerik pointed out.  "I'm eighteen, and—"

"Eighteen isn't nearly old enough to think you want to be a—Do you know what hunters do?  They kill people.  Dead.  And you think you could do that?"

"I could," Yerik said.  "I know what it means.  I'm fully aware.  I can do this.  More importantly, I want to do it!"

Fai shot his brother a quelling look, narrowing his eyes.  "You want to do it?  You want to hunt people down?  To kill them?  To have their blood—their family's blood—on your hands?  No, Yerik!  I won't have it!"

To his credit, Yerik didn't even flinch as Fai's fist slammed down on the wide desktop to punctuate each word.  Instead, he held up his hands in a placating sort of gesture that ultimately didn't work.  "Fai, you know, I did fine when I went out with Jesse's father on that hunt for the kangaroo-youkai, and—"

"You did . . . what?" Fai bellowed, his usually temperate tone all but forgotten as he exploded in an uncharacteristic rage.

Yerik rolled his eyes.  "During semester break," he explained.  "Brad Gillis offered to let me tag along on a hunt to get some experience.  He said I did very well—"

"The hell you say!" Fai growled, reaching for the phone.

"What are you doing?"

Fai grunted.  "What does it look like?  I'm calling that damned Covington, and I'm going to demand that hunter's head on a platter!  Taking you out there when you have no experience, no nothing but a stupid, ridiculous idea in your head!  Of all the incompetent—"

Reaching across the desk, Yerik grasped his brother's hand to stop him from dialing the phone.  "Fai!  No!  As you can see, everything's fine, and I thought it'd be good to see if it was something I could do before I approached you about it.  I did well, and I know I can do the job, so—"

Leaning back, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly, Fai drew himself up to his full height.  Yerik gritted his teeth against the abrasive quality of his brother's youki as it spiked around him.  "No, Yerik. For starters, you're studying business management.  You're going to take over the distilleries because I don't have the time to do it.  Hunting?  It's too dangerous, and I'll be damned if I'll sit back and allow you to go out there and risk your life for no good reason.  Things like this would change you—harden you.  I promised Father that I would watch over you, not send you out there, to put your life in danger.   End of discussion."

Yerik sighed as the memory faded, as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.  He'd let the discussion drop after that—for now, anyway.  Sure, he could understand Fai's feelings, and yes, he had known that his brother wasn't going to be very supportive, at least, at first, about what Yerik wanted to do.  Even so, he'd be lying if he didn't admit that the longer he thought about it, the more he felt that it was something he was compelled to do, as if every part of his life had led him to this decision.  It wasn't one he'd made lightly.  It was something that he felt down to his very bones.

More than that, he wanted—needed—to do it.  Keeping Fai safe, paying him back for a lifetime of dedication and devotion in the only way he could?  Wasn't that the least he could do . . .?


Trudging along the side of the river that would ultimately lead to the orphanage, Saori frowned as she stared at the ground under her feet.

They'd spent the majority of the day, traveling along in silence, and even though she'd started to speak a thousand times, the words got stuck, and the quiet had lingered.

She didn't understand it.

There was no better way to say it.  That curious moment when she'd handed Fai a cup of tea, and . . .

And even just the memory of it was enough to set off the strangest sort of sensation deep in her belly—a curious kind of churning that wasn't at all unpleasant—and yet, it was entirely frightening, just the same.  The closest thing she could liken it to was that giddy kind of flutter that always accompanied an unexpected drop, kind of like when she'd gone to a few amusement parks over the years.  Whenever the roller coasters plunged—that exhilarating, but almost scary feeling . . . It was a lot like that, but entirely different, too . . .

'It's because there's something about him,' her youkai-voice remarked.  'He's fascinating, don't you think?'

Frowning at the rather off-the-cuff remark, she bit her lip, willed her cheeks not to pink as she carefully adjusted the straps of her knapsack and kept walking.  'Well, he's . . . He's nice enough—when he's not irritated about something,' she ventured slowly, almost philosophically.  'And he's very handsome—again, when he's not scowling . . .'

Her youkai heaved a longsuffering sigh.  'This isn't about Kakashi-kun, is it?  Because he doesn't actually know you exist, and even if he did, he's named after a manga character . . . which is entirely lame, if you ask me . . .'

She made a face.  'He has no control over what his parents named him, and even if he did, he's cool enough to pull it off . . .'

'And like I just said, he doesn't know you exist, remember?'

Letting out a deep breath, Saori shook her head.  'It's not like I'd have a chance with a guy like him, anyway, and even then, I haven't seen him since we finished school.  Anyway, what does this have to do with that?'

Her youkai snorted indelicately. 'Well, ask yourself this: in the length of time since you first laid eyes on that boy, have you ever felt like that when you've thought about him?'

'Well . . . no . . .'

'So . . . Doesn't that mean something to you?'

'How would I know?  I don't even know what it was I felt . . .'

"All right," Fai said loudly, setting down his knapsack with a heavy thump.  "This looks like as good a place as any to make camp."

For some reason, she had trouble, making herself turn around to look at him.  She wasn't entirely sure why, but she did understand that it had everything to do with that moment earlier—the brush of fingers, the electricity that seemed to pass between them . . .

"If you'll gather wood for a fire, I'll set up a shelter, and then you can show me how to fish with my hands," he went on.

She thought she nodded, maybe.  She wasn't entirely certain.  But she shrugged off her knapsack and set it aside before wandering away to gather wood.  Glancing back over her shoulder, she spotted him easily enough as he hunted around for branches that would suit his task.  Broad shoulders that were concealed but not hidden under the smudged and rumpled light blue shirt that was pristine, crisply pressed, just a few days ago on that fateful morning.  The sunshine that filtered through the tangle of leaves and branches so high overhead caught on the tips of his chestnut hair, brightening his locks, adding a certain sheen to him, almost an unearthly glow.  He was scowling again, but this time, it was one of concentration, and that was all right, she figured.  'He . . . He really is an incredibly handsome man,' she thought to herself.  For some reason, that conclusion set off another round of the curious dropping in her stomach—not quite as severe as it had been that morning—but enough that she flinched and shifted her stance, wrapping an arm over her belly as she leaned her head to the side and continued to stare at the man in question.

And she continued to watch him as he erected the shelter, as he lashed the branches he found together, stretched the tarp carefully over the skeleton and staked it down with a few well-placed blows with a heavy rock.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, it occurred to her that she really should get moving on her own task, but something about the way he moved demanded her attention, and the notion of gathering firewood seemed so vague, so far away . . . There was a poetic sort of feel in his every movement, a commanding sort of grace that she'd only actually seen in the men of her family before now.

There was simply something about him that spoke to her in quiet whispers, in inane language that she really didn't understand, but somehow, that was all right, too, wasn't it?  She had a feeling that she would one day, and even though the thought of spending more time with him wasn't a sure thing, somehow, deep down, she had a feeling that maybe . . .

Pausing in his tasks long enough to raise his hands above his head, he slowly stretched, first to one side, then to the other, before slowly working his shoulders, eyes closing as he let his head fall back, as he rolled it from side to side . . .

A distinctive trill raced up her spine, an entirely pleasant sort of anticipation surging through her as she stared, speechless, enthralled . . .

'If he catches you, staring at him, he might well have a fit.'

She nodded slowly since there was a very good chance that her youkai-voice was entirely correct.  With a very long sigh, she shook her head, forced herself to look away, to start gathering the firewood for the night.

No, she really didn't know just why she felt the way she did.  She had no idea where the feelings had come from, and she didn't know what, exactly, to do about them, either.  There was only one thing that really did occur to her, and that thought was enough to bring the barest hint of a smile to her lips.

Fai Demyanov . . .

He was absolutely fascinating.