InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Confusion ( Chapter 35 )

‘This might not have been . . . the best idea . . .’

Biting her lip as she sprang high into the air, Saori narrowed her eyes, careful to keep the car within her sight while trying to hide her presence at the same time.

“Fai-sama!”

Stopping with his hand, holding the car door open, he straightened up ang looked back at her as she dashed down the steps, skittering over the path that led to the driveway.  “Go back inside,” he called to her, his tone carrying a very real authority.  “I’ll handle this.  Don’t worry.”

She didn’t stop until she was standing beside him, breathless.  “I’m coming with you,” she said, shaking her head as she struggled to catch her breath.

He sighed.  “No, you’re staying here,” he informed her.  “The last thing I want or need is to be distracted by you or trying to protect you . . .”

She rolled her eyes, wrinkled her nose.  “You know, you don’t have to do that.  I am fully capable of defending myself.  You were challenged, weren’t you?”

He’d already opened his mouth to argue with her.  At her point-blank question, however, he snapped it closed, his expression taking on a belligerence that reminded Saori of the children at the orphanage when they received their cleaning assignments for the weekend.  “It’s fine, Saori.  He’s no match for me.”

She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly.  “Then it won’t be a problem if I come with you.”

Shaking off the lingering memory, Saori made a face, her determination bolstered even more.  As far as she was concerned, Fai was going to explain, just why he’d felt the need to have Yerik come outside and all but strongarm her back into the castle, only to find herself, locked into her room from the outside.  Apparently, Yerik had thought that it would do the trick, but it didn’t.  All she’d had to do was exit through the balcony, and she’d been trailing Fai ever since . . .

When she caught up to him, she was going to give that man a piece of her mind; see if she didn’t . . . He was simply not allowed to kiss her the way he’d kissed her, say to her the things he’d said, and then try to take off without her to meet a challenger who wanted to see him dead . . .

‘This would be easier if you got a move on it . . . Just hop onto the car.  It’s not like he’s going to turn around and take you home now, don’t you think?’

She snorted and made a face, shaking her hair back out of her eyes.  Except that really was what she thought . . . He was so set against bringing her along that she had very little doubt that he would, in fact, turn right around and take her back to the castle, never mind they’d been traveling for almost eight hours now.  She didn’t know what his ultimate destination was, but they were headed north, straight into the wilds of Siberia . . .

Far ahead, he signaled and turned off the main road.  She saw the car just as she dropped below the treeline.  Opting to close a bit of the distance, she sped through the trees, veering slightly to the right, relying on the vibrations in the earth to keep track of Fai’s car.  Night was falling, the evening shadows were stretching, reaching out to embrace the earth, and under the cover of the trees, the dusk was nearly complete.

Vaulting high, rising above the trees, Saori spotted the car.  It was slowing down, rolling forward, almost as though he were looking for a roadsign or some kind of marker.  Brushing aside her impatience as she hit the ground once more, she pushed off again.  This time, the car had pulled over as Saori lit in the high boughs of a tree to watch as he locked the vehicle and paused, long enough to fasten his sword around his hips.  Then he crossed the road, only to disappear into the trees on the far side.

She could feel it in the air, couldn’t she?  Banking on the idea that Fai would be focused more on the reason he was there and less on anything else, she altered her course, careful to remain downwind of the direction in which Fai had gone.

Once across the road, she dropped into the treetops.  Her beloved uncle had always told her that it was easier to mask her presence if she remained above the target.  Even if Fai wasn’t really looking to find her here, she figured it’d be best to try to maintain whatever advantage she could get.

Stopping at the edge of the tree line that opened around a pond, a beautiful little clearing, she frowned.  Fai stood, arms crossed, facing away from her, staring down a strange youkai—a Kamchatka-brown-bear-youkai—a huge and hulking youkai, easily twice as broad as Fai, though maybe not quite as tall . . . He was intimidating, even at a distance, and the malevolent way his youki flowed around him made her bite down on her bottom lip hard . . .

“Tell me, Konstantin.  Why did it come to this?” Fai demanded, standing impassively as he slowly regarded his would-be opponent.

The bear-youkai snorted in an almost incredulous kind of way.  “Don’t take me for an idiot, Your Grace,” he growled.  “I am no fool!  I know that you mean to put an end to the regency!”

“Put an end to it?  Why would I do that?  Granted, your father might well require a new heir after this day, but that was never something I intended to do.”

The bear growled, stalking slowly toward Fai, his gait, lumbering, almost clumsy, a little deceptive.  Fai didn’t buy into it.  “My father has served your house for centuries!” he rumbled, dark brown eyes lit with a rage that burned deep.  “Served your father—his father, too—and you?  You know nothing of the things he does, the steps he takes to ensure that Siberia is protected—for you!  For you!  And he has never asked a thing from you—nothing at all!  Only that you agree to meet with him, to offer him assurances that his loyalty is not misplaced!  Then this?  You have no honor!  You . . . You are not my tai-youkai!”

“And what have I done to make you believe in what you’re accusing me of?” Fai demanded, ducking aside when the bear swung at him.  “What is this that you’re talking about?”

Unleashing a fierce roar, Konstantin swung at him again and missed.  Fai leaned away to avoid the attack.  He had yet to draw his sword—had yet to accept the formal challenge.

“I have heard the rumors on the winds!  You mean to come, to remove my father’s position.  Whether you can no longer afford to pay his stipend or you simply disrespect his ability to oversee the lands that my kin have protected for centuries, it matters not when we have been nothing but loyal—nothing but loyal—even when those whispers come to us, that our tai-youkai is nothing more than a selfish child—a worthless and spoiled brat that has cheated and resorted to the lowest of tactics to defeat your enemies!”

Fai narrowed his eyes, his hand moving to rest upon the hilt of his sword.  “And you believe the rumors?  Do you really think that I would demean myself by stooping to the things that you’ve heard?  If I wanted your father out of his position of regent, I certainly wouldn’t skulk around like some vermin in the night.  As for my ability to protect my title . . . Are you certain that you want to find out if there’s any truth to the lies you’ve heard?”

Konstantin snorted indelicately—cynically.  “It’s too late for that, isn’t it?  You think I would issue a challenge without thinking it through?  I’m not nearly so foolish . . . but I fully intend to walk away from here, too.”

Fai frowned.  Something about the youkai’s eyes—something deep and . . . He . . . He didn’t really want this, did he?  Didn’t want to challenge Fai, and yet, the rumors that he’d heard had somehow convinced him that it was the only way . . . “I have not yet accepted your challenge,” Fai said.  “You have time to rescind it.  I . . . I will allow it.”

Konstantin’s eyes flared wide, and he stepped back, almost uncertainly, shaking his mane of brown hair as a suspicious glimmer narrowed his pupils to slits.  “Why?  Why would you allow that?”  Then he grunted.  “It’s a trick . . . A tai-youkai cannot offer that kind of leniency.”

Fai shrugged.  “I can,” he said.  “You’ve issued challenge based upon rumor and untruths.  I tell you now that I did not have nor do I have any plans to usurp your father—your family—in the Regency of Siberia.  If you can accept my word on this, then we can both walk away.  If you cannot, then it will be you that causes your father’s downfall, not me.”

Konstantin considered that, his conviction in his eyes, wavering despite the distrust evident in his wary stance.  “And the reprisals?”

Fai shook his head.  “There will be none—none, except that I would like to hear more about these rumors you’ve been hearing.”

Straightening his back, Konstantin slowly nodded.  “You . . . You are welcome to come to my home—to meet my father . . . I will . . . I will tell you what I’ve heard.”

Fai nodded once, ignoring the whisper of his youkai that insisted that it could be a trap.  Somehow, Fai didn’t think so.  No, there was something to this man—Konstantin—something honest he’d seen in his gaze.  He really had believed that he had no other choice, had fully bought into whatever he’d heard.  The man hadn’t wanted to issue challenge, but how Fai knew this—why he knew it . . . He didn’t know.

Konstantin stared at him for another long minute.  Then he slowly dropped to one knee, his gaze not faltering.  “I . . . I rescind my challenge,” he said.

“I accept,” Fai replied.

Konstantin didn’t stand up, but Fai could feel the slight release of the tension in the bear-youkai’s aura.  “I’ll go home,” he said, slowly pushing himself to his feet.  “I’ll tell my father that you’re coming.”

Fai nodded, noting the shift in the wind, the sudden scent that wafted to him, and he sighed.  “If it isn’t a problem, there will be two of us,” he said.

Konstantin nodded.  “That’s fine.  We will expect you soon.”

Fai waited until the bear had disappeared into the trees on the far side of the clearing, lifting his gaze to take in the majesty, the serenity of the starry sky above.  Satisfied that Konstantin was out of earshot, he sighed.  “Saori, you can come out now.”

He heard the dull thump as she dropped out of the trees, felt the surge of her youkai that she let unfurl.  She was a little wary.  He could feel it in her aura, and finally, he turned to face her, careful to keep his expression blanked.

“I . . . I escaped from the balcony,” she said in lieu of a greeting.

“I could have sworn I told you to stay behind,” he reminded her.

She clasped her hands before her, scrunched up her shoulders as she ducked her chin, staring at the ground beneath them.  “I’ve never been good at listening,” she admitted.

He sighed.  “And just what did you think you could do?” he asked, though his tone lacked any real rancor.  “If the challenge had come to pass, you aren’t allowed to interfere.  No one is.”

“I know that,” she said, giving her head a quick shake.  “You said yourself: I belong with you . . . right?”

He snorted.  “I meant you belong at the castle with me, not that you had to glue yourself to me every moment of every day.”

She suddenly giggled.  “Do they make glue like that?”

Fai shook his head again.  “You’re entirely missing the point, and I think you’re doing it on purpose.”

She sighed, but she took another step toward him.  “You . . . You let him take back his challenge,” she said, her voice, soft, gentle as the night breeze.

He grunted, shifting his gaze to the side.  It could easily be construed as a weakness, and he knew it . . . Allowing a challenger to walk away . . . Others could easily interpret it as fear on his part, and, while he knew that it wasn’t the case . . . “I wasn’t afraid of him,” he stated, unable to repress the hint of belligerence in his tone.

“I didn’t think you were,” she told him.  “I think . . . I think you were being decent . . . I think you knew that he was too slow, too lumbering to avoid your attacks.  I think . . . I think you knew the outcome the moment he stepped out of the trees . . . Knowing that and then offering him a way out of it . . . That’s decent, Fai . . . That isn’t fear.”

He blinked, his eyes shifting back to meet hers.  “You . . . You called me, ‘Fai’ . . .”

She blushed.  Even in the fluid navy light, he could see it, tinting her bluish cheeks in a hazy violet . . . “Gomen . . . I—”

He cut her words off with his lips, drawing her close against his chest as she sighed into his mouth, as she instantly melted against him.  Her lips were soft, quivering against his, like the petal of a bloom, struggling to hang on against a harsh spring wind, just before a storm . . .

Her hands slipped up around his neck, her fingers sinking, deep into his hair, her youki surrounding him with her own particular sweetness that lived somewhere deep inside her.  The tease of her lips, the warmth of her breath, condensing on his skin . . . A resonance that reached down into the depths of him, that echoed up to his brain in whispers that he heard but didn’t comprehend, even as understanding beckoned him.  She felt . . . perfect, didn’t she?  The way she fit in his arms, the flawless familiarity that was somehow more exciting, more inebriating, than anything he’d ever felt before . . .

And, just for the moment, he allowed himself to forget—to forget why he was there, to forget that he was entirely vulnerable, out in the open.  One time, maybe the only time, it was all right, wasn’t it? To feel . . . To revel . . . To be someone other than the stoic tai-youkai . . .

Saori sighed again, her lips gently parting, allowing, maybe beckoning, the kiss to deepen.  The contours of her lips, of her teeth, the overwhelming sweetness . . . There was an innate innocence in her that spoke to him, even as she almost clumsily accepted what he gave her.  The moment he touched his tongue to hers, she shuddered, her hands slipping down to his shoulders, her fingers wrapping around fistfuls of his shirt.  The elevation in her breathing held him in check, uttered such a soft reminder that she was Saori, that she was precious to him—that she was the fairy tale that he hadn’t realized that he’d even wanted—wrapped up in bright smiles and silly notions, in impetuous freedom of spirit . . .

The taste of her was almost enough to drive him mad, the reluctant flick of her tongue against his, and she held nothing back from him, laid at all bare.  One kiss melted into another as a moment stretched on a gossamer thread.  Kissing her slowly, savoring every sigh, ever shiver, every quiver, every quake, he winced inwardly when a pang so sharp, so deep shot through him: a bittersweet sense that he couldn’t recall he last time he’d felt so sheltered, so cherished, as he did in that moment, and that was all right, too, wasn’t it?  Saori . . .

He let out a deep breath, gathering her closer against him, holding her tight, resting his cheek on her forehead as she managed an uneven little laugh.  She snuggled against him, obviously in no hurry to break the contact, which was fine with him since he wasn’t feeling any particular rush to end it, either.

It took forever for his heart to calm, the erratic beat of his heart, hammering in her ear.  She laughed again—a little stronger but not nearly as normal as the usual sound of it.  “Fai-sama . . .”

He sighed and rolled his eyes.  She didn’t see it.  “After all that, you still add that to my name?” he grumbled.

She sighed, too, only hers was a completely contented kind of sound, and then, she cleared her throat.  “I’m sorry . . . Fai . . .”

“Good enough,” he relented.  “It’s like pulling teeth for you, isn’t it?”

She wrinkled her nose.  He flicked the tip of it with his fingertip, and she giggled again.  “Can I help it that I was raised to have impeccable manners?”

“Yes well . . .”

She leaned away but didn’t let go of him, her cheeks still flushed, her lips still dusty and slightly swollen, which really only made him want to kiss her all over again . . . “I still think that what you did—”

“He was misled,” he interrupted, defensiveness creeping into his tone, letting his arms drop from her as he quickly turned away.  “A man should not die simply because he believed in lies.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” she told him quietly, grasping his hand when he started to stomp away.  He stopped, but he didn’t turn to face her again.  “I heard what he said, but why do you seem to think that you’re going to be viewed as . . . as weak or something?”

He grunted.  “They’ll say I was afraid,” he predicted, gritting his teeth as an unreasonable surge of irritation.  “They’ll say—”

“The ones who matter will know that you did what you did because you’re a fair man—because you’re a good man.”

He didn’t believe her.  He wanted to.  Experience told him, though, that it wouldn’t really be as simple as that.

‘Maybe not, but if you cared that much, what they thought, then you wouldn’t have allowed him a chance to rescind, now would you?’

Letting out a deep breath at the accuracy of his youkai’s words, he took a deep breath, willed the irritation away.  Worrying about it now wouldn’t help.  In his heart, he knew that he’d done the right thing.  If he could figure out where the rumors were coming from, maybe he could put a stop to that . . . maybe . . .

“Come on,” he said grasping her hand and giving her a little tug.  “The Korinovich estate isn’t far, and they’re going to be expecting us . . . I think it’ll be safe, but until we know for sure, just . . . just don’t venture too far from me, all right?”

“Okay,” she agreed, falling in step beside him.

He said nothing else as they continued on, back toward the trees—toward the road where the car waited.