Title: Truth
Word count: 591
A/N: Spontaneous gift!fic for fireflyslocket.
Truth
With the wind at the mercy of her fingertips, you'd think that Kagura had it easy. She should have had no problem with just getting onto her feather and flying away, into the azure sky and hiding among luminous foliage, lost to the world, and Naraku, forever. With her dances, she should have been able to charm any man, human or demon or beast, and her spirit was strong enough to support at least two, maybe three other lives. She was that amazing.
But when she flicked her wrist again, manoeuvring the fan to her liking, whipping Inuyasha's face in this direction, then that, she was nothing but free. She felt Naraku's eyes, always watching, always dead, always creepy, on her back, and she smirked, just for show, trying to convince herself that she was enjoying this too. It hurt, though; the gap where her heart was supposed to be, burned, and her eyes, watered with a hatred that was far deeper than any she'd waste on a hanyou. She thought of the irony of her existence (the wind, hah!) and thought what a cruel joke Naraku had played on her, from the beginning. She had to be submissive. She had to stay with him. And she was bitter.
One more flick, and Inuyasha was on his knees. Another lash, and his stupid sword had spun out of his reach. Yet another slash of biting wind, and Kagome was swept back, landing painfully onto dusty ground. Again, whipwhipwhipslash, and then the monk was before her, pulling off his bead bracelet and exposing his pathetic wind tunnel at her face. Yeah, right. Kagura yanked her fan backwards, and was then airborne. It should have been so easy to just…go.
But no, nothing was easy. Her face felt stiff from smirking as she settled down on the ground again, beside the body that was both familiar and loathsome. Naraku's miasma blinded her vision momentarily, and swirled around Inuyasha and his friends. She saw the giant boomerang flash somewhere in the pearly-grey darkness, then disappear. Nope, we're gone, she thought, and then felt disgusted that she derived pleasure from the thought, from escaping with Naraku, of all people.
That night, in another castle rotting of miasma and dead bodies, Kagura rubbed at her arms; there were hairline scratches on them, the result of exercising her powers too excitedly, and of blocking the half-demon's reckless swings. She thought about herself again, wondering what she was. Certainly not the wind. And then it hit her, like a bolt of lightning, and Kagura leaned her head back, neck exposed to the sky, and laughed. She giggled uncontrollably, and tried to cover her mouth, spilling out the laughter.
She was nothing but Kagura, a cheap imitation of the wind, not even real. She was like Naraku the master's toy, a little fan that he occasionally flapped just for fun. Naraku was nothing more than a little sadistic boy, that poked people with the sharp edges of his fan, and the broken shards of his mirror, whenever he wanted. He bullied them if they didn't give him what he wanted to collect. Who was she kidding? This thought was no revelation, really-- Naraku's element for her was nothing more than his little joke, something to boost her anger, and appease his black, black heart. Ha, ha. And she'd thought that there was some great meaning in her existence. And she'd actually believed that she could be something other than herself, Naraku's incarnation, for a while.
Ha, ha.
Ha, ha.