Kagura sat on the rail over the deep, dark shaft and stared down, boredom and irritation written across her face. She sincerely envied Kanna and Kohaku, who moved around freely through the barrier because they had no demonic auras. She daren't go out herself; she was not so brave as to risk being purified, even if her present companions were intolerable. She glared at the glowing eyes in the darkness of the shaft and sighed irritably. She was so bored she almost wished Naraku would come and speak to her. Though he was in the midst of building a new body, he occasionally put together a temporary shell and came to remind her of her place, and that she was not to leave the mountain (not that he would care if she walked through the barrier and perished!).
Sighing again, she flicked open her fan and shot a series of blades down the dark pit, the squeals of dying demons serving as a temporary distraction from the dullness of this place. She hated being trapped beneath ground. Hated the stifling, thick air. Hated that she could not feel the wind; even the breeze called up by her fan felt fake and smothering. She studied her fan in the torchlight and heaved a sigh for what seemed the millionth time. It had only been three days since Naraku holed up in Mount Hakurei, and she was already going mad. How much longer did he need to build that stupid body of his?
"Kagura."
She started, and jumped off the rail to face her much despised master. He looked unusually pale today, his dark hair in contrast with his nearly white skin. He wore the clothes he was always so fond of back at the castle; loose and light and comfortable looking. She idly noticed, as he approached her, that his feet were bare, like hers; but he still towered several inches over her. She didn't like being forced to look up at him; but the alternative of not meeting his gaze would make her seem afraid of him. She was, of course, but she was hardly willing to show it, so she met his ruby eyes with her own flashing red orbs. He smirked at her defiance and moved to lean on the rail, crossing his arms on it and glancing down into the pit.
"You've been killing the demons again."
She shrugged, adopting a stance similar to his, but several feet away for caution's sake.
"I'm bored."
He reached a hand down into the pit, and an unusually beautiful demon came forth, a snake of black with red patterns, no doubt lethally poisonous. It was pleasing to look at, but so very dangerous to be close to; not unlike the man who held it. It slipped up and wrapped itself around Naraku's neck, then curved around the back of his head and held its head against his forehead, like some fascinating, living crown.
For a long time, he just stood there in silence, stroking his new pet's tail where it lay upon his shoulder, ignoring Kagura. Finally, annoyed that he was being no less boring than the demons, she spoke sharply.
"Did you have some purpose in coming?"
He remained silent; probably just for the sake of annoying her, since normally the jerk liked hearing himself talk. She debated killing the snake with a wind blade; or even better, chopping off her master's head. She restrained herself, knowing it would do no good and only bring painful punishment upon her. Finally, he spoke.
"I have weakened myself with my work. I'm merely resting briefly."
"Oh yes, and pestering me is the best way to take a break, isn't it?"
He tilted his head. The snake slipped down the length of his arm.
"Hmm. It is amusing, I'll admit. But I can think of much more pleasing pastimes."
The snake slithered along the rail and up her arm, brushing against her breasts and wrapping around her neck. She shuddered, disgusted, repelled and yet drawn. She hated the helpless feeling that swept through her. Always, she had hated and feared Naraku. But never, until just lately, had she feared him in this way. She had thought that the one thing safe, the one thing that was her own to give or to keep, the one thing that Naraku would not take, was her purity. Never before had he shown any interest in her that way. Yet more and more lately, his intentions became obvious.
She hated how attractive he was, how intense and darkly alluring. She hated that he was capable of drawing forth some primitive, raw, physical desire from within her. Perhaps this despicable desire was what had made the other so attractive to her: Naraku's opposite. Straight white hair unlike Naraku's raven waves, golden eyes unlike Naraku's crimson ones, a power of inheritance and hard work, so unlike Naraku's ill gotten strength. She wished she could see him now, her beautiful escape from the darkness. Those cold, indifferent golden eyes would be such a relief from the wicked lust her master regarded her with.
The snake grazed its fangs ever so lightly against the side of her neck, and she shivered despite herself. Naraku smirked, taking the three steps that brought him to her side. The snake moved away, curling itself around her waist, and Kagura stiffened and stayed very, very still as Naraku licked away the tiny drops of blood the snake's fangs had drawn. A cold feeling settled somewhere inside her, even as her skin burned and a strange, churning need twisted in her belly.
She suddenly became away that her fingers were buried in the mass of his dark hair, holding him to her, her hands betraying her, revealing just how pleasurable his lips and tongue on her neck were. Yanking away suddenly, she took three fast steps backward and glared at him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought of how fast her heart would be beating now, if she had a heart…
"Stop it! Just stop it! Let me have this one freedom!"
He leaned against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest and watching her with dark, burning, half-closed eyes.
"You have the freedom. I will not force you. Yet when you so obviously enjoy it, why should I stop?"
"I don't…" The knowing, skeptical look he gave her stopped that sentence. "I hate you! You're loathsome!"
"Feel for me whatever you will, it makes no difference. Personally, I'm rather indifferent towards you. Don't make the mistake of thinking this is about feelings." The snake slid off of her body and returned to Naraku. "This has nothing to do with the fact that you are a traitorous b-tch, or with the fact that you think me a cruel b-stard. In fact, it is not even that I want you, or that you want me. It is a simple matter of learning to use whatever is available to satisfy certain natural urges. Do you think I do not know your true desires? Do you think that I am blind? Do you not realize that your mind is a part of my own? At night, you dream of being on your hands and knees beneath a crescent moon, silver hair spilling around you, being mounted by a dog in the form of a man."
"Stop it! Can't you just shut up?!"
He ignored her completely.
"Would you care to know my fantasies, Kagura, since I have such free access to yours?" "No!" "I imagine the clay miko in a pool of her lover's blood. I imagine her enjoying it, savoring InuYasha's life staining her skin. I imagine taking her there, with his body close by, his dead eyes watching every moment. Her mouth tastes of his blood…"
"Stop it!"
"As you wish. What do you want me to do, then? Shall I leave you alone here in this suffocating place, your only amusement to be found in killing demons? Or will you accept an alternate form of entertainment?"
"Never. Just go. Leave me alone."
He moved forward and wrapped one huge hand around the back of her head, the other curling dangerously around the side of her neck. She opened her mouth to taunt him, to remind him that he had said she could choose, but suddenly, he covered her mouth with his, plunging deep, exploring. For a moment, she was too stunned to even think, too stunned to hate him…and then, the only thing she could process was pleasure. She was overwhelmed by anger, yet unable to remember why, so she sank her teeth hard into his lip and tasted the blood, his gasp of pain soothing her fury. He growled, not an angry sound; rather half playful and half a reminder of her place, that she had no right to harm him. He was hard, pushing against her thigh, murmuring low, dangerous things against her lips. Turning them, he pushed her back to the rail and lifted her to sit on it.
The feeling of being precariously balanced somehow added to her pleasure. It wasn't as if it was truly dangerous, not to her. If she fell, she could use her feather, and even if she did not get it in time, the fall could not kill her. Still, it felt risky…and somehow, exilerating.
Nothing seemed real. It was like one of her dreams…the erotic images which haunted her at night, except that it was all wrong somehow. The hands working to untie her obi were big and dark and blunt, so unlike the pale, slim, clawed hands she saw in her usual dreams. The hair her fingers clung to was black as the moonless night, not the snowy, silver-touched silk she normally dreamt of. This wasn't what she wanted…surely something was terribly wrong here…yet pleasure blurred her vision, eased her doubts.
He pulled her off the rail just long enough to completely remove her kimonos, throwing them into the pit. The demons squealed…probably thinking the cloth was food. Then she was back up, clinging to him as he stepped between her legs, chuckling darkly.
It was that chuckle that pulled her back to reality. Suddenly, she saw the scene as if she were someone else, an onlooker. She saw them. A wanton woman, naked, perched on a rail with her legs spread, her head thrown back, moaning at even the slightest touch. A harlot, surely. A man with wicked eyes, not at all lost in passion, completely aware, savoring the woman's surrender, gleefully delighting in her fall. Another moment, and she would be lost. He bit at her neck, maneuvering closer to her, seeking to fit them together.
Panic overwhelmed her, and, without another thought, she threw herself backward into the pit, pulling a feather from her tussled hair and landing on the next level down of the platform. She would not, could not, look back. She turned and headed down the hall, towards the room where she had extra kimonos stored. She wanted to scream at Naraku, to use every breath and moment she had, yelling obscenities at him at the top of her lungs. But she would not. He would enjoy it too much, her fruitless, helpless anger. So she simply walked away. As she walked, she heard his voice, sounding as if he were close, whispering in her ear.
"Have it your way. But it will be me you dream of tonight."
She ignored the voice, picking up her pace, seething.
She knew he was right.