Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, they belong to the amazing Rumiko Takahashi. This also may contain some spoilers, just a heads up.
Author's note: This is my first Inuyasha fanfiction in 6, maybe 7 years, but the idea for this one has always been something I've wanted to play around with. (Especially now since the final act has been released). \
Naraku clutched them in his hand, one small jewel fragment and another that looked to be over half of the Shikon No Tama. His crimson eyes stared at them, the broken whimsical chain that dangled from the larger of his two new gifts felt cold against his pale hands. It didn't make sense. The, currently tainted, lavender shards were now in his possession, but they were given to him by the very woman he could have swore hated him. Curiosity swelled in his very core, Kikyo had handed him the very thing she had died to vanquish, the very thing he had searched for for years after her death. Kikyo has to hate me… what is she plotting? Naraku's own thoughts bickered back and forth. Perhaps her newly found hatred for Inuyasha has gotten in the way of her wanting to destroy me.
A thin grin slithered onto Naraku's face, his dark bloodthirsty eyes darting from the jewel in his hand to his broken puppet that stood sliced in half by a nearby window. How he wanted to see the look on Inuyasha's face when he learned of Kikyo's actions. When he found out that Kikyo no longer belonged to him and that she hated him, wished death upon him, that she would even help his most hated enemy to destroy him. Naraku's grip around the jewel strengthened, Kikyo intends to use me to ensure Inuyasha is slain, he let go of the jewel, allowing it to fall into his lap, that's fine with me, if she truly wants Inuyasha to die, I'll grant her wish. Naraku plucked the small, silvery chain out of the jewel, the chain disintegrated into dust the moment it was left alone in his hands. I'll make sure I use her gift wisely, Naraku pulled his mass of shards out from a pocket in his robes, he pressed the chunks of shards together, combining them with an eerie blue purple light, I'll bring Kikyo Inuyasha's severed head.
Kikyo's presence still seemed to linger around the royal room Naraku sat in. The scent of soil and death, the bitter sweet aura of purity, seemed to engulf him as if she were still standing before him. His eyes danced over to the small, cushioned futon he slept in, the very futon he had laid her in when he had brought her back with him the very night before. Although it had only been the previous day, it felt like it had been years ago, for Naraku savored the memory as if it had been one of the most important days of his life. Naraku had summoned demons to fight, to form his new body, and Kikyo allowed for him to acquire the flesh he needed to become whole again. What he savored the most, however, was the look plastered upon Inuyasha's face as he held Kikyo peacefully asleep in his arms. Inuyasha hadn't even tried to protect her; he had been too busy defending her reincarnation to even look her way twice. Is that why she hates him now? Jealousy is such a beautifully dark thing…
Naraku stood up, tucking the jewel safely inside his robes, and walked over to his cut puppet; he held the broken halves in his hand. The halves instantly became one again and Naraku plucked a single hair from his head and wrapped it around the wooden doll. The wooden doll responded to his touch, a festering bump grew from the wooden doll into a full fledge version of Naraku, a copy of his baboon pelt drawn around his body. Obediently, the puppet bowed to his master, placing the small wooden hair wrapped doll onto the floor between them. I need to keep watch over her. I cannot trust her. Seeming to have read his master's thoughts the golem scurried out from the room, into the miasma painted night.
Allowing himself a brief moment of empty thoughts before he linked himself into his puppet's faux mind, Naraku laid on top his futon, covering his body with a silky smooth sheet. Kikyo's scent clutched to his body and he silently cursed his heightened senses for not allowing his weary, cunning mind to rest. Naraku's eyes shut and when they reopened, he saw Kikyo resting against a tree, an angelic yet egotistical smirk fastened to her lips. Naraku, in the form of his puppet, stalked closer to the sleeping priestess, careful not to make too much noise. Kikyo had warned him that she could sense his puppets, but he didn't care if she could, it would be worth getting caught fixing upon her just to get a rise out of her. Naraku loved the idea of Kikyo's virtuous, porcelain face becoming twisted; just once he'd like to see her pride ripped from her, to see fear burning in her haughty brown eyes.
Kikyo stirred as she rested, sheets of long black tresses moving ever so slightly with the soft night breeze blowing through the trees. Naraku crept closer, until he stood directly in front of her, his crimson eyes transfixed on the beauty peacefully sleeping at his feet. His eyes stared at her chest and neck, searching for any sign of life, but he knew he wouldn't find any. The priestess didn't have a heartbeat, Kikyo barely needed to breathe. Naraku could hear Kikyo's soul collectors swish through the night sky, each grasping newly stolen spirits, searching for their slumbering mistress. "Hmmm…" Kikyo hummed, jolting Naraku back into reality, she's not sleeping? "How very foolish of you," Kikyo opened her eyes to stare out into the dark forest, she stretched out her arm for a soul collector to rub against it, Kikyo's voice rang out once more, "did I not warn you that your tricks would not work on me?" Kikyo whipped her head around to face Naraku.
"What you desire…" Naraku could not help but sound pleased with himself, "…is Inuyasha's death, am I not mistaken?" Naraku's smooth voice called out to the priestess. "That is why you stole his jewels from his new lover?" He picked and probed, dying to hit a nerve to change Kikyo's expression.
"Were you not the one who refused to talk to someone no longer of this world?" Kikyo stood up, fully fresh and rejuvenated by the abundance of stolen souls that slowly sunk into her clay skin. Her brown eyes showed the slightest amount of anger, but her arrogant smirk widened.
Kikyo's cocky quip was enough of an answer for Naraku, "Very well then, until next time…" Naraku turned to leave, his baboon pelt making a slight swish as he moved; he did not want to risk Kikyo seeing his ever growing smile.
Naraku closed and reopened his eyes, finding himself back on his futon, the puppet obediently kneeling at his side. Find more shards. Naraku thought, silently giving a command to his cloned servant. The puppet disappeared once again, but this time Naraku did not bother to track its actions. Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into a slumber, Kikyo's faint scent still fighting with his senses.
Kikyo was fast asleep in his arms, her body limp and cold. Naraku sank through his own barrier, whirls of miasma clouded and disappeared around him as his feet touched solid ground, he made his way towards the private entrance to his room. The image of Inuyasha's jealous face in agony as he picked up Kikyo had forever been pleasantly burned into his mind, though he wished he could have seen the look on Kikyo's face, the betrayal in her soft and sweet brown eyes, if she had known Inuyasha hadn't even made an effort to protect her.
The room was quiet, except for Naraku's footsteps and the sound of his baboon pelt dragging along the floor, and dark except for a small candles perched among the furthest wall. Naraku laid Kikyo on top of his own personal futon, expecting her to open her eyes and confront him angrily, but instead the undead priestess remained still and silent. Naraku knelt by her side, the events of that night playing over and over again in his head. His crimson eyes watched her as she rested, half dead from the lack of souls, if Kikyo really were weak and defenseless, he'd relish in the moment.
Naraku grew restless as he watched Kikyo, the priestess looked dead. Kikyo had allowed him to reform, she could have easily broken his curse, but instead she choose to permit him to carry out his evil deed. Instinctively, Naraku extended an arm out to touch her, but caught himself before his skin touched hers. His lips twitched into a disgusted frown, the urge to reach out and touch Kikyo burned his skin, but the urges he felt were alien to him. Naraku had not felt this defectively human in years, fifty years to be exact, and it toyed with his mind. Naraku could not tell where these sudden yearnings for Kikyo's touch came from, but he was determined not to give into them.
An hour passed since Naraku had returned to his fortress with Kikyo in his arms, and still the priestess did not stir nor snore in her sleep. Kikyo's hair was pulled back in the way she had always wore it and her priestess attire faithfully clung to her form. It was as if Naraku was hallucinating, as if she had been plucked out of one of his darkest, most lustful human memories and placed helplessly before him, for the priestess looked exactly like how he remembered her to look and she was as vulnerable as he had always wanted her to be.
Crimson eyes traced Kikyo's outline in the dark, Naraku could not help but gawk at her. She was defenseless, utterly defenseless, and all he could bring himself to do was awkwardly stare at her. Naraku gulped, trying to shake the human desires and memories from his body and mind, but to no avail. He wanted to awaken her so that he had an excuse not to sit and think about her, he hated himself every time her face flew through his conscious.
After Kikyo had died, after Naraku had killed her with his own hands out of demon hate and human jealousy, Naraku swore that he'd never think of her again. After all, he was no longer the human bandit who lusted after her; he was no longer the warped, burnt thief who wanted nothing more but to have Kikyo's heart to call his own. Ghostly echoes cried out through the night outside of Naraku's barrier, the peculiar calls awoken him from his thoughts. Kikyo's soul collectors swooned back and forth, searching for their beloved keeper as they cradled silvery blue orbs in their claws. Naraku nodded as he finally understood why Kikyo was so suddenly weak, but he would not let her obtain a single soul until he formulated a plan in his brilliantly demented mind.
The soft blue light shone in through the room's window, casting faint shadows on the resting miko's face and frame. Naraku continued to stare at her, smug with the knowledge that if he desired to do so, he could reach out and kill her, just as he had fifty years before.
But he could also do other things to the sleeping priestess, things he had wanted to do to her fifty years ago, but never could.
Naraku scooted closer to Kikyo's side, his right hand stretched out to touch her arm. Naraku could feel her cold, clay skin through the thin piece of cloth that separated his hand from her bare arm; he retracted his hand, but moved closer to the sleeping miko still. Kikyo's face was framed by dark bangs and wispy loose strands of hair, Naraku reached over to brush her bangs to the side, his fingers barely touched her forehead. As his fingers graced her face, he intently stared at Kikyo's closed eyes, daring them to open. Naraku's hand stroked down from her temple down to her cheek, then down to her chin.
New urges began to arise in Naraku's very core as he felt Kikyo's cold skin against his. Kikyo was so lovely when she was resting, but he wanted to see her angelic face contort with darker emotions, he wanted her to squirm beneath him, cry out to him for mercy, cry out for him in lust. Naraku pulled back his hand, he would not allow himself to steep down to such lowly human desires. A pain in his stomach caused him to lurch forward and place his hand right back where it had been and Naraku bit his lip to fight back the stream of curses he wanted to unleash.
Naraku stroked Kikyo's cheek once more, this time allowing his hand to move down to her neck. She felt so breakable, so fragile, against his hand. Naraku twined his fingers into her hair, rubbing the small baby hairs behind her ear. Again, he bit his lip to prevent himself from cursing. His hand traveled downward, his crimson eyes spotting the white ribbon that bound her hair together. Naraku took the white ribbon between his fingers and slowly pulled it out of her hair, sending cascades of black locks down his pillow. The white ribbon remained in his grasp, he rubbed it between his index finger and thumb, right before stowing it in his robe pocket, right next to his shikon shards.
The desire to touch her once more crept through Naraku's skin and he reached over to place his hand on Kikyo's neck. Kikyo's slumbering clay body showed no sign of consciousness, which only egged Naraku to do whatever he pleased. The feeling of Kikyo's barrowed fake clay skin was enough to send chills up Naraku's spin. He had killed this woman with his very own hands, yet she was here before him. Naraku drew his hand down Kikyo's neck to her collarbone, then down to her chest. He wanted to feel her heart, the very heart he had once yearned to own. But as his hand reached the middle of her chest, he felt not a single trace of a heartbeat.
A strange pulsation burned through Naraku's body, it was almost as if he had felt Kikyo's heartbeat within his own. Naraku withdrew his hand, though his fingertips remained as cold as Kikyo's faux body.
Crossing his arms, Naraku stared pass the priestess, attempting to concentrate on something other than her. But it was to no avail, a deep yearning inside of him ached for him to touch her again, to touch the very woman he murdered half a century ago. Kikyo looked so peaceful, so innocent that it made Naraku sick to his stomach. It was that innocence that made him angry, he had wanted to rip that innocence from her so long ago and he wanted to take it from her now. Naraku laughed to himself, picking up the unmoving Kikyo in his arms. He could kill her right then and there and rid himself of the pesky urges to feel her against him, but he could also break her away from her innocence, violate her and ravish her body and she wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. Twisted, perverse human thoughts circled inside Naraku's being as he felt the cold from Kikyo's body leak onto his own flesh. His grip on Kikyo tightened, anger and lust fueled his steel grip on her clay body and he became torn on what lewd forms of humiliation he wanted to carry out.
Kikyo's innocent yet arrogant face remained motionless and dead, Naraku could not bring himself to hurt her, nor could he bring himself to explore her body. Instead he laid Kikyo back down on his futon, this time placing his own silky satin sheet on top of her, in a vain attempt to make her feel warm. Perhaps if she woke feeling comfortable she'd trust him, but Naraku did not care if she trusted him.
No feelings were spent on this woman; the being lying beside Naraku was nothing more but a collection of stolen souls and clay. And yet Naraku could not control himself from feeling emotions towards her, he couldn't even prevent himself from admitting that he was glad to see her resurrected, that he had spent the last fifty years awaiting for her to resurface, for Kikyo to take her rightful place beside him.
Disappointed in himself, Naraku gave an angry sigh and turned his back on the woman lying in his bed. He closed his eyes, his mind aching for rest, and he slowly gave in to the need to dream. Naraku slept sitting up, his mind clouded with memories of lying hopelessly beside Kikyo, of past desires to hold and take her. His haunting dreams turned surreal as he felt a very distinct hunger for the priestess he could never have. The priestess that he could never touch no matter how hard he tried to outstretch his hands towards her.
After all, he was still the human bandit who lusted after her; he was still the warped, burnt thief who wanted nothing more but to have Kikyo's heart to call his own.
A subtle clunk awoke Naraku from his rest; his puppet had been defeated and the wooden doll had been sliced in half. Naraku sleepily looked over, unamused; he hated wasting his skills on failed feats. He was rather enjoying his dream, though he couldn't remember what it had been about, and being awoken abruptly angered him. Naraku pushed his sheet off of him and rose to walk over to the shattered wooden doll. He held the carved wooden statue in his hands, rubbing it with his finger tips to soak of any information the puppet held. I see, so Sesshomaru ended up fighting this one. Naraku looked down at the doll, throwing it to the ground, not caring that it broke apart into tiny wooden splinters. What a pity, if I had paid closer attention I could've absorbed him and gained his power. Naraku snorted, not that I'm not powerful enough as is… Naraku smirked to himself as he settled back down to his futon.Naraku didn't need to sleep as much as a normal human, but he did need to rest more than a full fledged demon, and he rather enjoyed the few less hectic moments of his miserable, isolated life.
Author's Note: Please review, it would be very much appreciated!3 Chapter 2 should be up soon~