Ikioi - Part Three

"You don’t talk very much, do you?"

Ryoga broke away from his contemplation of the pavement passing beneath his feet to look up with a startled expression at the girl beside him. Though Ikioi smiled, he couldn’t help but begin to worry. Was she already finding fault with him? He’d really been too stunned to make conversation as she led him through the streets of Nerima and he quickly lost his bearings. He didn’t know what he -could- say. Even on his best days, Ryoga had trouble talking to any girl, let alone one who was suppose to be his iinazuke.

"G - gomen . . . " he muttered indistinctly. "I - I’m not used to . . . "

"It’s all right, Ryoga-san," Ikioi chuckled warmly, squeezing his hand in a reassuring manner that made him blush. "I understand. And truthfully, I prefer the strong silent type. But I was hoping that you would talk just a little more so that we could get to know each other better."

Damn it! She -was- finding fault with him! Frustration and self-recrimination mounted with breathtaking swiftness, and he responded angrily, furious with himself for being so stupid, so shy, so completely pathetic . . .

"Hyyiiiargh!" Ryoga snarled, unleashing his feelings in the only way he was really comfortable. He punched his fist through the concrete of the closest wall, cracking and splintering the material away as easily as if he were poking a hole through mere paper.

Ikioi jumped back in surprise, her aquamarine eyes widening and one small hand going to her chest in shock. She peered at the hole in the wall for a long second, as if musing it over in her mind, and then she smiled. There was a bit of an edge to the expression, and the shimmer in her eyes was one of calculation, but Ryoga was too angry at himself and didn’t notice this as she stepped closer.

"Wow, Ryoga-san, you really -are- a strong silent type," Ikioi beamed. "Do that again."

Ryoga blinked and looked down at her, confused. "What?"

"Do that again," she requested, moving down the length of the wall, past the part that he had destroyed. She pointed at the concrete surface. "Right here. Break it."

"Well . . . all right . . . " Ryoga stepped over, glared at the wall for a moment, then easily punched another hole right through it. He turned to shield her body with his own as bits of concrete and debris rained forth.

Ikioi clapped, looking young, beautiful and delighted. "Oh Ryoga-san! How wonderful!

Ryoga nearly melted from the praise, but her obvious pleasure loosened him up, made him feel a bit more at ease and more comfortable. Eager to further please her, he stepped past his second hole.

"Watch this," he instructed, and turned to face the wall, drawing his hand into a fist with only his index finger extended. He drew in a low breath and reached out to poke his finger against the concrete with a exclamation of "Bakusai Tenketsu!" Obligingly, the wall shattered into thousands of tiny fragments, all spraying outward in a puff of powdered concrete.

Ikioi looked momentarily surprised, but the expression was quickly replaced with another adoring smile. "That’s amazing, Ryoga-san! I’m very impressed."

"Heh," he chuckled nervously, looking down and fidgeting with his fingers. "It’s easy."

"Now, don’t be modest," she stepped closer to him, reaching out to grasp his hands once more, gazing up at him sweetly. "Oh Ryoga-san, you’re exactly as I was dreaming you would be."

Ryoga lifted his eyes, meeting hers, and lost himself within the shimmering blue-green depths. He simply couldn’t believe . . . couldn’t believe . . . (( She likes -me-! Me! It doesn’t seem possible, but she really does! And she’s so beautiful . . . ))

They stood for a long moment together on the sidewalk beside the wall he’d destroyed, hands entwined and simply gazing at each other. People on the street passed them by and gave them odd looks, or smiled to see a young couple obviously so enamored of each other. Ryoga and Ikioi took no notice of any of it, they were seeing only each other.

Ryoga could almost feel the connection being woven between them, as his heart beat hard, threatening to break through his sternum. For so many years . . . for so long . . . all he had ever wanted was for someone to love him, for someone to want him. Now . . . could it be true? . . . now the most beautiful perfect girl he’d ever seen was holding his hands, smiling at him - only him - with a gentle muted love in her eyes. It felt like a dream, but it was one that Ryoga was only too happy to submerge himself into. He’d wanted this for so long! So long!

But . . . Ryoga broke the gaze, looking down, mouth tightening into a frown. Something didn’t feel quite right here. He wasn’t an attractive person, he knew he wasn’t. And she was so beautiful . . . how could she . . . ?

"Ryoga?" Ikioi looked puzzled as he shifted his eyes away, and her hands tightened on his. "What is it?"

"Ikioi-san . . . " he spoke her name for the first time, loving the sound of it even as he hesitated. It meant life . . . spirit . . . vigor . . . and she was all of these things. Kami-sama, she was so beautiful! How could a wonderful girl such as she possibly be interested in someone like him? How?

A terrible thought came to him then. She said that she was his iinazuke . . . was that why she was being so sweet to him? Because she felt that she had to? Because she was obligated to? The thought hurt, but it made sense. No one else had ever been interested in him, aside from Akari, whose love hurt Ryoga almost as much as being alone did. She loved him only because he turned into a pig, and because he reminded her of her family’s noble sumo-pigs. Her affection wounded Ryoga every time she offered it, and simply drove home the fact that such an abnormal relationship was probably the best he could hope for.

But now, here was Ikioi. Ikioi who was so perfect, with her long shimmering black hair and unusual shining eyes, Ikioi who was so undeniably beautiful. Girls such as this simply did not like Ryoga, and he knew it. But she was apparently his iinazuke and felt obligated to show interest in him. There really could be no other explanation.

He pulled his hands from hers. She had to be cringing inside from just touching him. "It’s o - okay, Ikioi-san . . . " he muttered, turning away. "You don’t have to be nice just because . . . because we’re . . . I understand."

She blinked, not quite understanding at first, but then comprehension dawned in her expression. "Ryoga, do you think that I’m being nice to you simply because I’m your iinazuke?"

He nodded, swallowing hard. "Why else?"

She seemed shocked for a long moment, but recovered quickly, reaching out to turn him back to face her. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged herself tightly against his chest.

Ryoga tensed, every nerve in his body standing on edge and singing shrilly. It took him a minute to remember to breathe as he felt the connection they had begun to forge re-establish itself and grow stronger. She was pushing her way into his soul, into his heart, and he simply didn’t have the strength of will to stop her. He didn’t want to.

Oddly enough, they were suddenly no longer on the street, but had somehow made it to Ryoga’s backyard. He distantly recognized the place, though he didn’t recall them actually moving to get here. Not that it especially mattered. Nothing did beyond the feel of Ikioi’s soft slender arms wrapped around him, her small hands pressing into his back. His skin bristled from the sensation of being touched, unused to such a rare occurrence, but it felt good . . . wonderful. All of his perception and awareness shifted down from the larger picture of everything around, to just the two of them. Together . . . her arms around him . . .

"My poor beautiful Ryoga," Ikioi said softly, her tone one of caring and compassion, sounding as if it were coming from inside his head more than from her mouth. He shivered.

"You really believe what they’ve made you believe, don’t you? You really think that you’re unattractive and undesirable." She gripped him tightly and looked up at him, at the completely amazed and frightened shock on his face. "You are not, Ryoga! You are handsome and strong, and I have been seeing your beautiful sad face and eyes in my dreams for years. You are everything that I have ever wanted."

He flushed, trying not to meet her eyes again, feeling himself shaking deep inside. Everything seemed to be swirling around them, and the sensation was confusing and slightly bewildering. What was happening here? She’d dreamed about him? She said he was handsome and beautiful . . ? "But . . . " he whispered, shutting his eyes tightly, hoping to still the uncomfortable feeling of spinning. "No one has ever liked me . . . "

"That is because you are meant for me, my Ryoga," she told him gently. "And I am all that you will ever need."

Her hands pressed against his face and drew him down toward her. Startled, Ryoga’s eyes fluttered open in time to lock with hers, and he was immediately lost in the aquamarine sea. She pressed her lips against his, keeping him prisoner in her eyes so that he couldn’t pull away. Truthfully, he wouldn’t have even if he could have. The feel of her soft mouth on his forced his mind into a complete shut-down, and the reality of the kiss became the center of his existence.

There was a strange roaring sound in his ears, as if everything inside his body were being pulled up into the kiss and drawn out to be given to her. Ryoga’s limbs and torso were suddenly weak and distant, and he was vaguely aware of the fact that he had sunk to the ground, pulling Ikioi down with him. Her arms wrapped snugly around his neck and she deepened the kiss. The roaring increased, and the strength of his body began to desert him.

His system was shocked into awareness as the diminutive girl broke the kiss and sat back on her heels to smile at him. "Are you okay, Ryoga-kun?" she asked gently, fondly.

He was forced to catch his breath, and shook his head to clear it. Everything that had been disrupted within him slowly settled back into place, but the sense that some of his strength had been drawn away still remained. He decided to chalk that up to the fact that he’d just experienced the most incredible event of his young life, and when he looked at her, his deep brown eyes were filled with devotion.

She liked him! She said he was handsome! She’d -kissed- him!

"Hai," he nodded slowly, bewildered. "I’m okay."

"Good," she smiled brightly, eyes narrowing with happiness.

"Ryoga!" From the direction of the house, a low masculine voice called his name. Wondering again how they had gotten here without him really noticing, Ryoga looked up to find his father standing in the back doorway, looking at once pleased to see his son, and confused at finding said son sprawled on the ground with a strange girl kneeling beside him.

Undescribable joy filled Ryoga. How long had it been since he’d seen his father? A year? Longer? It didn’t matter. Springing to his feet, Ryoga dashed across the lawn and threw himself into his father’s ready embrace. Carefully picking herself up from the grass, Ikioi smoothed down her kimono and followed. While father and son greeted each other with rough hugs and manly shakes, the petite girl stood and watched, a small warm smile on her face and intense pleasure shimmering in her eyes.

Seeing Ryoga happy made her happy . . .

Once the two men had settled down, the elder Hibiki flung an arm around his son’s shoulders and turned to regard Ikioi. His smiled faded and dark eyes widened just a bit as he observed the girl waiting patiently, hands clasped demurely in front of herself, blushing slightly as she looked up at him through the thick cover of her bangs.

"Ikioi?" Ryoga’s father blinked. "Is that you?"

Ryoga looked from one to the other, confused. So, his father knew of Ikioi? Then . . . did that . . . did that mean she really -was- his iinazuke?

The girl nodded. "Hai, Hibiki-san."

"Kami . . . " Ryoga’s father stepped down from the doorway and regarded her a bit more closely, before resting his hand on her hair and smiling warmly in an expression that would have looked very handsome on Ryoga, were he more inclined to smile himself.

"Yes, you do look much like your mother. Well, well . . . " The Hibiki patriarch glanced up at his son. "So, you’ve met your iinazuke at last."

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