Chapter One
The Curiously Morbid Enchantment Of A Silhouette
There was a strong presence of spiritual power as it cooed the wind and charmed her raven tresses in a soft dance. A houshi. How she hated those presumptuous fools. Everyone she had encountered had tried to free her, or destroy her. All in pitiful vain they had died. Had they listened to her at the beginning and disregarded their causal and usually faked piety their lives would have been spared.
The wind paused as her eyes mused up to the smearing ocher of the rising sun instead of the chilled grass beneath her. The maiden's eyes always seemed to be unamused, or filled with some cynical vibe that made her look uninterested in anything that ever occurred. There was fiery amber hue that glittered in the youkai eyes of the woman. Her species was complex, not natural.
Once she had been a full-blooded human, but a curse was quick to change such. But none of the past mattered, it was only a haunting, a reminiscence of why she must continue on her journey for vengeance, less she wanted to be caught in the tormenting world of placeless beings…
The woman appeared human upon first glance, and her beauty entranced; even the intimidation in her eyes lured in the sinful lust of the filthy human male species. She hated them all. Their lust and greed, their dispositions and haughty attitudes towards women and lesser people, they all deserved to die. Not like the geishas were much better however, throwing their lives away to learn how to tempt the sin of men.
Her hair was ravenously long, ending at mid-thigh and still shifting with her soft walking pace. Her attire was rather simple -her goal was not to impress it was to blend- and her moments resembled the slink of shadows. A dark black cloak with a shapeless cover hung over her shoulders, a hood usually raised was tucked beneath a blanket of silky hair.
Where the hell was she? The forest of some wretched flower... a clearing beyond a hillside, it mattered not. A sigh escaped her lips as she curled her left fingers into a light fist, and then let them ease once again. Around each finger tight seams and cloth toiled a black glove -a device not for style or flair- a tool to hide what corrupted her chances of leading a normal life.
The maiden's name or age wasn't known to many, only a vile tormenter, a sensei, and a few deceased. Kitsunu. It was such a queer name; sometimes she cursed her parents for the originality that made the name impossible to intermingle with others. Her pale complexion tinted with stray rays of the fleeting sun, and her hair was highlighted with a soft streak of a golden like tone. How she longed for freedom.
He was walking slowly, head bowed, shakujou held in one hand. The wind tugged at the hem of his blue-purple robes, murmuring in his ear, reminding him of his kazaana. His damaged hand closed, forming a fist at his side, indigo-black eyes straying towards it for a moment. Miroku sighed; the edges of his wind tunnel still stung slightly, reminding him of its presence, but he never forgot it was there. Only sometimes could he bury the thoughts deep enough inside himself that they barely crossed his mind, and his impending death was simply a distant worry. He had become good at that, but having the edges of his kazaana torn again was another reminder of his own mortality.
Miroku ran his left hand over his face, perhaps trying to brush the thoughts from his brow. A pretty woman might have done the trick. Thoughts of attractive females (all of which were quite unholy) certainly helped; his expression became wistful and the houshi was smiling, his eyes beginning to drift further away. Miroku had become very good at escaping the panic indeed - from years of experience. And Miroku had never wanted to be morose; women simply weren't interested in a morose fellow, and it was rather wearisome to be depressed about an unalterable circumstance.
Miroku cleared the brow of the hill at last and he glanced up, as though surprised. He /had/ been rather distracted, not even noticing the vermilion flush of the horizon, as the sun camel slowly from the edge of the world, bringing orange, yellow and maidenly blushes, muted only by the pallid blue of the sky. The sunrise was really quite lovely, though the woman silhouetted against the burning colors was the first to draw his attention. Women had the tendency to distract the lecherous houshi from just about anything.
Adjusting his robes on his body and smoothing his bound black hair back, Miroku made his way toward the woman, noting her unusual aura, but trying not to appear too disconcerted, or too curious. His first priority was charming her into his arms.
"Why hello, miss. I could not help but notice you standing here; it is difficult to ignore one as lovely as the sunset. I wondered if you might bear my child?" Miroku suggested, a charming smile on his face. The woman shot him a blank look from the corner of her eye, noting his houshi attire… noticing he hadn't put distance behind them with his shakujou or thrown a flawed sutra her way. How queer… this houshi was being… kind? Trying to flatter her? It was a friendly gesture that had been offered in a demented sense, but he hadn't… shunned her? Deception, the woman quickly decided. The question however chilled her…a memory. The woman coughed a bit,
"I'm afraid your child wouldn't last too long should I be the one to bear it, but I'm sure there are others who would be more willing and more fitting then I," she answered with a icy tone, her eyes not making contact with his, her beauty still slightly hidden from her tireless efforts. If he tried something… she'd kill him. He was just another pawn in the scheme anyway.. his compassion was a weakness.
Miroku was accustomed to rejection, but never a rejection so coldly, detachedly polite as this. His smile faltered for the briefest moment, before his expression settled into a theatrical frown. Miroku presumed that she had miscarried a child prior, or some such, but he did not intend to pry.
"Oh? How unfortunate. Might I accompany you, then?" He asked, perhaps a bit too eager, a wide grin on his face again. She was a very attractive woman, after all, and he could probably cop a feel or two before she rid herself of him, and she would certainly accept his offer. Miroku had no doubt; he was a very irresistible man, after all.
"Sorry," she answered with a voice that barely echoed sincerity in the word spoken. "I'm afraid you wouldn't last to long around me either," she murmured her eyes still concentrated on the sunset. Who is this houshi… ? Why is he… offering me help.. just like.. she looked away. "I know not even your name, houshi," she added her voice flattening, her eyes half open as she finally made contact.
Golden-amber sparkled through a stone-glossy surface and met orbs with the depths of the ocean and the purity of the afternoon skies. Spindles of raven tresses followed almost in slow motion, but with a watery-grace. The woman simply stared at him, taking in his expression and his facial features. Why was it comforting? She shrugged it away as she prepared to leave again, by just breaking eye contact.
Miroku blinked, and then he understood. If he were to take that literally, he could assume there was some threat on her life. It was the first thought that entered his mind and he accepted it, until he had an opportunity to think on it. And then she turned her saffron eyes to his dark ones, and the houshi was stunned into silence. Her gaze was piercing, cold, but not quite emotionless. There was something bittersweet about the expression in her eyes, and he couldn't put his finger on it, but the houshi knew that if her life was being threatened, it wasn't what bothered her. Slowly, he closed his mouth, and his usual flamboyance returned - it was impossible to discombobulate Miroku for a long period of time, and she was a beautiful female.
He grinned, "There's only one way to find out; my days are numbered already, anyway." The houshi told her, sounding cheerful. "And my name," He paused for dramatic effect, taking the liberty of taking her hand in his own, bowing, but keeping his eyes trained on hers, "is Miroku." He might have kissed her knuckles, but he refrained. Sango and Kagome had managed to teach him something, supposedly, although it might have been his instincts of self-preservation kicking in.
"It is your life that you are throwing away," she murmured sliding her hand back rather quickly. Over all… Kitsunu didn't really understand it. Usually she felt nothing, hallow with no purpose but to see a vow fulfilled, but now.. she didn't feel empty anymore, timid almost, perhaps frail with this new palpable emotion. It was only familiar to that of her young childhood- when her innocence had been spared death. Kitsunu wasn't sure how she was supposed to act. Miroku made her anxious and filled her with serenity at the same time, that certainly was not how it worked with the other wretched man. He had only comforted her, and then committed such a foul deed of treason.
"…Miroku," she accepted the name on her tongue, confused by its natural flow from her voice. Staring at him for a moment or two, her eyes gleaming and then pulling back with an odd sense of trust.. No! Kitsunu couldn't trust! The woman had vowed with the cold promising words following blood she had spat! The pain she suffered for that mistake.. she couldn't afford it again, she was running out of time. But… he was a houshi… the other was a deranged, sick, twisted, demented, hanyou. She was now a woman of eighteen… back then she had only been a lost child of nine. Perhaps the vow could be broken once, her sensei an exception as well, her judgment had improved over the years… her strength… her abilities. This houshi didn't even know what he was getting into…he didn't know the dangers of being around her -Unfortunately for the houshi, Kitsunu didn't have the heart to inform him.
"But what man would not throw his life away for such a vision as yourself, oh nameless beauty!" Miroku responded smoothly, his grin widening. He could almost sense the change in her demeanor; her accent no longer so cold, so harsh, so determined to separate herself from him, and every other human being who approached her. The sound of his name on her tongue was pleasant, though he might have said this of any attractive woman, being the man he was, but there was something distinct about the observation - he did not say so because her manner was sweet and her face was pretty, he said so because of the way the word seemed to roll from her lips, like honey, the way her voice seemed, just a little bit…warmer.
"…Kitsunu," she replied with a hesitant curtness. Without a warning or establishment of what her journey was or why or where she was going, she just started walking, away from the hill he had climbed down, and she had only a good fifteen minutes before. Strands of midnight settled as she refrained from looking over to the houshi. She was rather cautious to start speaking- Kitsunu didn't want him to know anything- she didn't even know what possessed her to speak her name aloud. Not like anyone would recognize it.. except. It was too late for that. It had been spoken that little trust would have to be risked. Just this once…
Her pace was steady. Movement. It was vital in her life. Should she be stationery anyone in the area would have been placed into a heavy risk, even glancing upon her could sometimes ensure death. That was one of the reasons Kitsunu was so positive the houshi was wasting good life, but there were… other variables as well.
Her height she noticed was about even with his, he had an inch or two over her. The woman's distinctive eyes closed yearning for slumber soon, she offered it a plea of wait. There would be a resting stop soon- where she could sleep for the first time in four days, and a nice meal since two days past. The silence she knew wouldn't last.. he was the friendly type, talkative.. he would politely pry into her past…Kitsunu was sure of it.
Miroku followed her, not in the least taken aback by her abrupt beginning. It reminded him of InuYasha, actually, and the others every time he chanced upon a beautiful woman.
"Kitsunu. It's a beautiful name, very unique. It suits you, if I might say so." The houshi said, his tone gaining a quiet sincerity as he walked alongside her, noting, as she closed her eyes, how very tired - world-weary, almost - and bedraggled she appeared. He wondered how long she had been walking, and why she had not rested. Perhaps, it was the unmentioned threat she had alluded to, but perhaps not. The houshi suffered himself to remain quiet; the air about her seemed to demand it, for the present moment, as she thought. He would think too, for there was very much to think upon. He had just consigned himself - quite happily - to this gorgeous, mysterious woman. He would have to inform the others of that, but he knew they would not miss him, for the present moment.
His flattery hadn't sunk very far as she looked off to the horizon. There was a village they would reach by sun down, regarding if there was an absence of distractions, hidden behind another valley and a light surrounding forest. Silence was the atmosphere that they breathed for moments before Kitsunu began rather curious as to why his presence hadn't irked the hell out of her yet.
After an hour of steady traveling, abruptly she stopped, a narrow astute knowing in her eyes of danger as she scanned the area. It was here. It was spying. Not him, not even the scent.. just.. There! She had found it. The inaudible hum of wings gave it away.
"Saimyoushou.." she whispered to the confused houshi. Constantly they pried.. obviously now they were indulging in the change of her traveling setup.
Miroku raised a brow, trying to hear, or see the saimyoushou. She was familiar enough with Naraku to know of saimyoushou; perhaps he would not have to explain why he had taken to following her, after all. The excuses he had come up with revolved around childbirth, and he didn't want to have to explain why there wasn't an infant nine months later, or anything of the sort - it was liable to result in several injuries to his head by Sango's formidable, heavy, and very painful weapon. The houshi winced imperceptibly, before returning his attention to the problem at hand.
"You are familiar with Naraku then," Miroku muttered, though, despite the phrasing, it wasn't really a question. He nodded, pleased that he wouldn't have to explain Naraku before explaining his kazaana, when the time came to do that; it would doubtlessly come soon. He thought he knew where the poisonous insect was, as he readied a sutra, though he kept it carefully from the saimyoushou's ever-prying eyes.
Her eyes left their tense state and gained confusion. "How ever would you, a leisurely, womanizing houshi, know of such a youkai?" she questioned staring him down in disbelief, but the name had rolled off his tongue… so perhaps... he knew from experience what the bastard was notorious for. Discarding the last question she had asked she stared down the area, waiting for a shift to be taken. There was none. With such a swift and graceful movement, the dagger that had been once concealed by her cloak could only be distinguished as a blur as its celerity pinned the poison hell-wasp to the uneven bark of a tree. Another of the youkai flew into the air, fluttering with a broken wing from the very same dagger that had ended the life to the saimyoushou she had heard.
"Dammit!" she cursed as the insect quivered too high up in the sky… if she perhaps used.. No. Not here. She couldn't risk the saimyoushou escaping to Naraku with that information. "I miscalculated.." she admitted apologetically, looking over to her dagger and venturing to once again obtain her weapon. Realizing now that the beating of their wings had been exactly synchronized she grumbled something along the lines of profanity. The maiden's senses had only picked up one when their had been two. A simple mistake- but it had basically cost Miroku his life, for now Naraku knew and if perhaps killing this houshi would get to Kitsunu, it would immediately be done.
Miroku grinned at her confusion, though he resented her description of him. It was a common misconception, though, and he had suffered it most of his life - in his own words. But Miroku did not have time to deny her claims; the insistent buzz of the saimyoushou's wing in his ears was enough to remind him that there were more important things than clearing his name. His expression became prepared, his eyes moving swiftly in the direction of the noise. They had grown daring, and fortunately closer. And then, the saimyoushou was dead, pinned to a tree by the blade of the woman beside him. He had expected her to be skilled and deadly, but not quite so much as she had already proven to be. Miroku suddenly found himself hoping he did not provoke her. He frowned to see the second saimyoushou, but he was still more surprised to find it injured. Her ability was extraordinary.
Miroku shook his head, bemused, "That was amazing…" He murmured, his tone waxing disbelief. She might have outstripped Sango. "No reason to be sorry at all; I certainly couldn't have killed even one of them so quickly.
"Although, I feel I should firmly establish that I am a humble, honorable houshi, and by no description a womanizer. It's really quite a wounding assumption, Kitsunu-sama."
Wrenching the dagger from its deep wedge in the carcass of the wasp she grunted. "If I may interject with my opinion, I typically find one who asks spontaneous women he knows nothing about to 'bear his children' rather egotistical and dishonorable," she answered as opposed to his claims of being the holy houshi he was supposed to be.. not like it mattered. Kitsunu was not used to praise however, and didn't know how to respond to it. She had only thrown a dagger. It was nothing. Had it been more then a petty youkai, then he would know what extend of training she had gone to in ambitions to kill Naraku. The suffix 'sama' was also so foreign she barely registered it as her own, a complement of respect? She had never been given such a title.. the only titles she had known other then her name was sla- Kitsunu wouldn't dare think it.. Unleashing another memory, another fear, another thought that would only further establish how dire a need it was to kill Naraku.
Miroku appeared affronted. "I assure you, I have a very good reason for asking women to bear my child!" He replied indignantly, frowning. Though he was not frowning simply because she was accusing him of anything other than holy, respectable behavior - Miroku was frowning because he could see the distance in her eyes again, the flicker that told him how separated she was from everything around her. Her mind was clearly fixated on vengeance for whatever ill Naraku had done her, perhaps forgetting the pleasures of life. The houshi would be quite willing to show her at least one of its pleasures…and there the unholy thoughts began, but they were soon returned to their proper place, though Miroku had no intention of ignoring them for terribly long. And there was something else, the thing that had made him certain that she did not only fear for her life, but for…something else. Miroku was sure it returned to Naraku, as most evils did to those who sought revenge on him, but he did not pry, because it was simply a look in her eye, and he only had assumptions to ask about. She would not respond, more likely than not.
"I care not for your reasoning.. we've wasted too much time here already…" Kitsunu murmured, her speech trailing into a sigh. It was odd, conversing with this houshi, the feelings she had for him were rather muddled, she was sure that there was no real liking, but there was just as much no hatred. Not taking a fondness to elaborating that topic in her own mind the woman once again began walking, not signaling him onto any clue or hint as to where they were venturing or why.
Hours pasted with the droning of their footsteps. Two pairs. Sometimes she became too comfortable with the sound of four feet walking gingerly down a path or creating their own on unworn foliage.
Traveling at extended into the middle of dusk when the small rice-farm village came into view from their perched position above it on a hillside. The sundown was stunning, but Kitsunu didn't pay much attention to it as she stopped and calculated a few things in her mind, like clockwork she was always prepared for something. The wind sent ripples through the jet-black locks and the milky moonlight of the evening sky touched the paleness of her skin.
"Have you any concurrency, or must I use other means…?" she huffed looking down at the village, taking in the dusty rooftops and the shadowed silhouettes of fleeting people. Ridiculous it was the length of rice-fields that stretched across these lands, bordering every pathway, every section of the town. On normal occasion a forest setting would have been fine for sleeping, but she was rather annoyed with the lack of sleep she suffered and desired a futon or something of that nature as opposed to a tree or the very grass itself…
Miroku grinned, despite his tiredness. He had become accustomed to walking for long periods of time; it was something he had done all his life, and InuYasha had only pushed him harder, and his cheer was unwavering, no matter what the circumstance.
"Ah, I think I can find us some place to reside for the night." This was, after all, his area of expertise: 'exorcism'. His indigo-black eyes sought for and found what appeared to be the largest home in the village, and he gestured towards it. "Is that suitable?" He asked her, just in case Kitsunu had something against the house. She was too mysterious for him to be certain that she didn't resent company (other than his own, of course), or the person who owned the house, should she know them, as she might know this village, though Miroku suspected she only ever went anywhere once, as were the rules of avoiding danger (of two kinds, in his case). He refocused on her words; he had had such a long time to think with the silence, that he wasn't quite used to concentrating on conversation again, but she hadn't spoken yet. He would have returned to himself at the sound of her voice - she had an unusual manner of speech: clear, soft, confident…and so sharp, like ice.
"It is more then suitable but… how do you intend on obtaining such a gesture from a manor quite like that?" she inquired, more then confused as to why the wealthiest looking manor had been chosen, and how this houshi ever so calmly approached the place, she followed, her eyes still probing for an answer through either speech or demonstration. The woman had never stayed in a place quite like this before. Perhaps maybe the castle Naraku had used as a disguise…
It was little time before they made it to the large manor Miroku had pointed out earlier, and standing out in front of it, made the place seem even more enormous. There were pillars with oriental designs, small religious statues and miniature pagoda's in every corner and cranny they could be placed. The sun's tip was just hovering above the house's highest roof, slanted into a point and glistening in the rays of the passing sun. Kitsunu's eyes took in the whole place, sensing normality and nodding to Miroku that it was indeed suitable.
Miroku grinned, but he simply gestured for her to wait a moment, as a servant met them at the door. Miroku's expression became innocently charming, the mischief hidden behind the shadows of his gaze as he regarded the woman. She was not nearly pretty enough to bear his children, so he refrained from the question.
"Might I speak to the lord of the manor? It is a very urgent matter." He said quickly, and he smiled directly at her. As predicted, any protestation she might have made died on her lips, and perhaps it was surprise that a houshi could give any woman such a charming smile, or respect for him as a holy man, but she did as asked, and after inviting them in, disappeared into the confines of the manor. It was not long before the lord appeared, the servant girl not far behind him. The lord was a slight man, appearing very timid, and anxious about nothing other than his own shadow, as he was forever looking behind him.
Miroku's smile widened and he bowed deeply, "Hello, milord. I am a humble houshi by the name of Miroku, and as we passed your home, I sensed an evil presence, and I felt I should warn you of the imminent danger to your household. Now, if you would allow me, I would be willing to rid -"
The noble did not even allow Miroku to finish his sentence, nodding quickly, "Yes, yes please do, kind houshi. I always felt there was an ominous presence in the house. I will gladly repay you anything, if you would be so good as to rid me of it."
Miroku nodded sagely. "You are very wise, milord. I will set about the exorcism immediately. Though, my only request is a bedding and food, for my companion and I, if it is not too much trouble."
The lord waved away Miroku's concerns, glancing behind him, as appeared to be a habit with him. Miroku smiled, and turned to Kitsunu. "Exorcism is my area of expertise." The statement was directed at both the lord and the woman beside him, whose head was tilted down, surely in hopes to hide to oddities of her eyes, but only Kitsunu would understand the double meaning. "Your home will be cleansed very soon."
Kitsunu coughed, her eyes rather flat with knowledge of the real situation, still averting to the ground so that the color would not be caught. Though, she wasn't about to say anything.. free beds, free meal.. she wasn't complaining. Rubbing her eye a bit with her gloved hand she seemed rather uninterested in the 'exorcism' as it was just a simple task of placing sutras around. Nothing special really, though the sutras would be wasted on a manor that had no youki coming from it other then the woman who stood right their in front of the skeptical man.
Miroku might have been deceiving the lord of the manor, but he certainly put on a good show, as he prayed over every room, and pasted sutras - his own, exceptional sutras - on the wall. And then he was done; a placebo effect followed, with the lord of the manor thanking him profusely for getting rid of the 'presence' that had 'stalked him for so many years'. Miroku smiled politely and nodded through the whole of the speech, and assured the man that it had been no trouble (which it hadn't), before returning to Kitsunu's side with a slightly smug smile. He helped those in need; he had just rid that lord of a fear that had likely never left him, for whatever reason.
This houshi amused her to a slight.. he claimed to be holy as he lied through his teeth in order to obtain bedding and a free meal; he practiced scriptures of chastity and equality among people as he asked only the finest woman (which baffled Kitsunu on why he was following her around) to 'bear his children', as he liked to phrase it.
"Mmm.. good work," she commented sarcastically, still somewhat internally entertained by his methods. Following Miroku into the room he had been informed they were spending the night, he explained, with a certain amount of mischievousness in his voice it made Kitsunu rather apprehensive, that they would be sharing a room tonight due to the lack of rooms vacant that eve. For some reason.. Kitsunu felt more then righteous to question the truth of that statement… but she hadn't objected… she didn't feel like causing him extra problems or accusing him of lechery since he had been able to get them provisions and bedding for the night.
Miroku grinned. Everything was going perfectly; he predicted that Kitsunu would be swooning over him by the end of the night, or, at the very least, he would have an opportunity to admire her lovely figure. Miroku managed to hold back a happy sigh, but just barely. The prospect of spending the night alone with a gorgeous woman had never really been available with him, so long as he had traveled with InuYasha. But Miroku knew he would have to tread carefully; Kitsunu was not gullible in the least (unfortunately for him), so the houshi would have to approach the subject delicately, carefully…
"Do you find it cold, Lady Kitsunu?" Miroku asked innocently, though his eyes were bright with eagerness, awaiting her answer, as he surreptitiously drew closer to her. Just a few more steps and he'd be able to stroke her bottom. "I could keep you warm, you know." He gave her his most seductive smile and reached out to touch her behind…
He just hoped she didn't slap as hard as Sango...
"Actually." Kitsunu muttered stopping in mid sentence as her fist curled and was pivoted from her side by the swift motion of her elbow to his face in a heartbeat, and with enough control that it only knocked him over. Her expression had left all seriousness, a classic anime chibi annoyance spread on her face. "The temperature is the least of my concerns," she mumbled unlatching the hook at her cloak.
As Kitsunu threw her cloak to the adjacent wall a yukata-like top, sleeves extending down to about her elbows, was unveiled. On her right arm was an metal guard, lined single file with three large, sharpened spikes. Her left arm was gloved in a plain black glove, on that same arm her sleeve was ripped a bit, revealing a sliver of dried blood that appeared to be soaked into a layered bandage. What sort of wound this was, wasn't certain to the on looker, but Kitsunu knew that it was in mid-healing, so the vicious tear in her muscle that was there the day before was already reduced to a thin cut.
Her legs were clung onto by black, skin-tight, stocking-like cloth, and at her feet were flat-boots that resembled those much like Sango, the Taijai. Her Yukata-like top crossed at her upper chest and fell down into a tightly tied obi. From there the outfit was a short-cut kimono-like bottom, ending at her lower thighs right before the knees, and was slit up either side of her waist to about a hand's length below the obi. Her battle yukata was a deep shade of black, though on her right shoulder there was a yellow-flowery design that extended to her chest stopping as the other fabric crossed over. The pattern was noticed once again at the left corner of the skirt-portion of her outfit.
The woman's eyes glowed in the fleeting light from the window, and her expression captivated nothing still even after that aggravating experience.
Miroku fell over with a muffled thud, a stupid smile plastered on his face, despite the pain of the blow. Kitsunu definitely hit harder than Sango (if that were possible), but it had been worth it. Rubbing his cheek, Miroku got up, a dazed look in his eye, probably more from happiness and less-than-pure imaginings than from injury; his eyes lost the look completely, however, when he caught sight of Kitsunu. If possible, her beauty had been intensified tenfold. Certainly, more of that pale, creamy skin had been revealed and her outfit fit her so closely. Miroku was contented. He imagined that if he died at that moment, he would be content. After all, InuYasha, Kagome, Sango, and Kitsunu could certainly take care of Naraku. Albeit, he would never touch her bottom again, though he couldn't be sure she'd let him close enough to do that a second time anyhow. Fortunately, Miroku didn't think he was going to die just then. So, he took the time to gawk at her loveliness (again) and hoped she didn't slap him (again).
His perverted mind was having a field day (AGAIN)!
Her eyes fell back on him as she shot him one of her icily emotionless glares. Kitsunu didn't even say anything, only stared with a flash of empty-ness in her eyes. Even so she couldn't force herself to hate him… even if… Sighing she finally tore her stare away. "I assure you… it really does hurt to have your eyes gouged out." she muttered feeling the presence of two eyes still taking in her form. Kitsunu knew she almost let 'from experience' fall somewhere into the sentence… she'd spare him that detail for now. If she didn't dump him off first. It wasn't even that she meant to be cruel however… it was just the only way to protect people. There was a sad glint in the amber that smoldered in her optics, Even if you ever escaped me… what would you do? You're mine Kitsunu. An abomination that belongs solely to me. No one would welcome you; no one would care about you as I do. Even if anyone did, you'd have to lie and distance yourself from them, or they would die at your hand. I'm the only one that can control you Kitsunu… you should love me for it.
As much as that memory brought a heavy onslaught of emotions… it was the truth. The painful truth that she had coped with all of these years. She need not love that man for making an abomination… for lying, beating, trickery… Finally she noticed the quizzical looks Miroku was giving her after a bit of being taken back from her comment. After standing in complete silence for a whole four minutes, she realized she must have drawn attention to the fact that her mind and memory had taken control of her reality… it happened quite frequently… and she could rarely control it.
Kitsunu's words caused the houshi the slightest shiver, but after a moment of consideration he had managed to assure himself that no woman would ever harm him. Well, not seriously, at least. Miroku sought some excuse for staring, as Kitsunu fell silent beside him. He found one quickly, but she was already far away. Her posture, her aura…everything had fallen into that state of dark thoughtfulness. The slightest frown marred his youthful face and his brows knitted. He wanted to know what had stolen her attention this time, if it were the same thing that had taken over her mind for hours at a time since the moment he had met her. It was probably Naraku. The houshi hated to think that the damnable hanyou had distracted Kitsunu from him. It was unthinkable. So, he stared at her, and he wondered. He was no longer wondering what she was thinking about, though. He was almost certain he knew; Miroku was wondering what Naraku had done to her to captivate her attention so completely, and the various ways he could recall her to the world (preferably, without any harm to himself).
"Forgive me, Lady Kitsunu. I was simply admiring the fabric of your kimono." He told her, perceiving that she was focusing on him somewhat. "It really is quite lovely. The color brings out your eyes." It seemed that Miroku was never at a loss for words, albeit that often got him into trouble, and not out of it.
Kitsunu looked away from his form that was still glued to the floor. This flattery still had no effect to her at all, and furthermore it was beginning to agitate her… Those eyes… deserved no complements. They were not truly hers, no.. she possessed optics of a purer kind, and she missed them, she truly did, for she had inherited them from her mother… He meant well right? Biting down on her lip she turned a bit, offering her right hand so that he could join her standing. They would die at your hand… her fingers coiled a bit in response to the memory as it renewed a literal meaning but nonetheless she held firm, her eyes reflecting an amber hollowness that was a shimmering cavity in the whims of the truth in that memory. Who was she kidding? She couldn't keep this up for very long… he would die, and it would be another loss she'd be burdened with… A set of bangs fell lazily over her pale face and gave her a sort of angelic look. Maybe that was true… but she couldn't really.. shake him for some reason It was almost… pleasant to have him around, regardless of his muddled intentions with his lecherous actions.
Miroku took her hand, smiling slightly; though he knew she was still…upset? Angry? Uncertain? No, no, no…paradoxically, they were also correct. She probably was angry and uncertain, maybe even upset, but none of the words seemed to fit her. He rose with her assistance, and met her eyes evenly. His orbs were like the night, almost black and flushed with purple-blue, twinkling with mischievous starlight. She seemed like the ingénue she should have been, when she bent her head just so. Miroku smiled wistfully; he could almost imagine she was not under Naraku's influence. "Perhaps, we should go to bed now, Lady Kitsunu?" Miroku said. He hadn't realized the connotations prior, and he hurriedly added, "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, after all, and it's said that Naraku never sleeps." He sounded carefree as he said this and if the slight twitch of his damaged hand went unnoticed, it would be easy to believe that he didn't have anything to worry about. Truly, the kazaana that had threatened his life did not often haunt him, but it had that day. Damned scorpion-youkai...
"He sleeps, but his resting patterns are more strategic then a normal persons'," she replied matter-of-factly, not seeming to understand the rhetorical sense in the remark. The houshi's comment prior hadn't really stirred anything in her, as that seemed to linger only for a moment.. and though it was true this man was a lecher, he wasn't quite that forward. Though… she had noticed it. Kitsunu had a knack for picking out the secrets and frets of people. Something was paining him, even the slightest falter in his expression hinted her to that. What it was… she didn't venture into finding out, but it was a small concern.
Her eyes left his after that and scanned over the room, after finding an object that would serve she walked over to it. A divider, made with lightly colored bamboo. Pulling it over to the mats that were placed.. pushed together. A sweat drop appeared over her head… something had to have been planned here… Ignoring that indictment she pulled one futon away from the other and then proceeded to push the divider between the two of them.
"Cross here," she said pointing a slender finger to the long and about two-feet high divider, "And I can't guarantee you'll be fully functional in the morning," Kitsunu explained sternly, once again, it wasn't as if she didn't trust him... Trust. That was an abused and vague word in her mind. So much negativity came from it… and yet.. maybe that's all she wanted deep down. Maybe behind all the vengeance and vows…all she wanted was someone she could finally trust and until the end they never deceived her. It seemed that was impossible, at least in her opinion. Closing her eye she realized sleep would be nice… she was actually quite tried, it was only so long she could go without sleeping, and even now as she stood there she was pushing it.
Miroku sighed. Why was it that she didn't believe he was honorable? He had only groped her once and he had had so many opportunities. He had resisted so many times already, she could surely have trusted him to leave her to rest without (much) disruption from him. "Lady Kitsunu, your words hurt me far more than your fist did. I am a misunderstood, but noble houshi." Dramatically, he held his right hand before him, prayer beads rattling as he did so. The houshi knew he would not win her sympathy, but perhaps she would ask about his hand, and feel moved enough that she would consider bearing his child? Or, removing the divider so that he could stroke her bottom, or 'accidentally' get far closer to her than strictly necessary…ah, the dreams Kitsunu had ruined with that simple action. Miroku could only pray that something befell the divider. He made one more effort, "Is this divider really necessary, Lady Kitsunu?"
Her expression fell a bit, her eyes converting into colorless chibi-irritation. "If you're making this much fuss about it… I'm convinced it is indeed necessary…" she mumbled half-under her breath. Or maybe that whole 'trust theory' was a load of bullshit. Maybe she really did just want to take down Naraku and leave this wretched place… Again with that queer hand of his. It had a particular aura, and didn't seem natural, not to mention the whole spiritual beads wrapped around it.. ones that were usually used for binding. "Like you said, houshi, we have a day filled with traveling… so stop whining and just go to sleep," she sighed rolling her particular optics and then beginning to remove the metal guard from her forearm.
Miroku sighed heavily and lay down on his futon; he knew when to give up a battle, and the war wasn't over (so to speak, although it was a terrible adage for the circumstance). "I feel I should say that I was neither fussing nor whining; I was simply defending my honor, but if you really think I am capable of lecherous acts, you may leave the divider." The houshi said resignedly, "Goodnight, Lady Kitsunu." He closed his eyes, but Miroku didn't fall asleep; he had a lot to think about, and despite the tiredness born of a day of walking, he was accustomed to it, and he needed to ponder the woman beside him. She was too…unusual for him to leave it off until the morrow; while the things he had observed were fresh in her mind, Miroku wanted to form a solid opinion about her. He just hoped he didn't fall asleep before he had done so. He was feeling quite tired after all.
Kitsunu laid herself down, her back to the divider and her cheek smeared into her square-shaped pillow. Normally she stood up into the later hours, pondering, planning, plotting… but not tonight. Kitsunu was just too fatigued. Her thoughts went back to what the houshi had said… and normally she would have brushed it away like a mere annoyance, but she didn't actually know what she thought about him. He dreadfully confused her, the way he could calm her and almost bring out that part of her that had been beaten into hiding… Maybe he deserved that much.
"There's so little honor in this world, I couldn't spare you any. But if its respect you want… you've had it for a while…" she mumbled rubbing one of her eyes and then finally nuzzling her cheek further into the pillow, one of her legs twisting in a sheet. "Night houshi, " she whispered, barely audible, before finally falling into an oblivion where reality and truth was questioned, the only place physics were bent… tomorrow would be a busy day indeed. Kitsunu could only hope they didn't run into anything that might activate a 'change in personality'.
Miroku had fallen deep into thought or half-sleep when her distinctive voice recalled him to the darkened room, her words bringing a smile to his lips. The very least he could ask for - and, perhaps the most - was her respect; he knew, almost for certain, that she didn't distribute it easily. If one knew where to look, though, one could find honorable people. Most often, though, they were being beaten down into the dregs of society by treachery, deceit, arrogance, and Naraku, who was all of those things. The houshi rolled over so that he was flat on his back and stared at the ceiling. He wondered where Kitsunu fit into the picture, but he knew there was no use wondering; it seemed, Kitsunu had taken away his reason to ponder that night. He already knew she respected him, and that would be sufficient information until tomorrow. The houshi did not like the prospect of being tired tomorrow, because, like InuYasha, she wouldn't stop for anything. Miroku smiled; somewhere in his mind he realized that he would have to send a message to them soon. Closing his fingers around his covered kazaana, Miroku closed his eyes, and fell asleep.
Kitsunu writhed under her covers as moonbeams touched her lithe form. Another nightmare it seemed. A bit of cold sweat had collected on her forehead, and her expression possessed that of great unease. It was constant the plaguing of these night terrors… they threatened her sanity but she was too far into the game to lose so easily now. Burying her cheek into her pillow she turned once more muttering something in a bit of distress. One of her arms was poised awkwardly at her side, the other stretched over her head, shifting her top to fold under her moments. This dream in particular was a bit more intense then ones Kitsunu was accustom too and her sleeping form kicked some of the covers down in effort to subconsciously cool herself off.
Miroku heard a whisper beside him and he sat up, his senses attuned to every movement in the night lately. His eyes fell on Kitsunu, struggling against youkai that only she could see. Nightmares. He should have known that she would suffer from them too. It was a common symptom of the influence of Naraku. He wondered whether or not he should awaken her. She seemed as though she might resent him for knowing that she was somewhat vulnerable. Studying her expression, though, the sheer strength of her distress was enough to make his decision for him. Miroku stepped over to her side of the room and murmured, "Kitsunu-sama," quietly into the darkness. He just hoped she didn't injure him for crossing the divider.
Turning restlessly again her arm fell back to her side, causing the cross in her top to shift over her shoulder, the other performing the same as her gloved elbow crooked a bit into a curve and with this motion a good portion of her upper chest had been exposed. The moon highlighted the curves in her neck and the plate below, and looking deeper still, a good bit of cleavage was on display, but the particular thing was the piece of jewelry that just above that exhibit.
The necklace was a silver chain, and resting on the chain and her pale skin was an odd pendant that consisted of what looked like a metal youkai claw clasping on loosely to a red sphere shaped and almost glass-like gem. What was really strange about the trinket was the vibe and mana it seemed to be creating. It almost tinted and gleamed with malice. Her face turned away from him after that movement, allowing only a profile view of her face, bangs matting to her forehead and some to the side of her cheeks. "Mmmnn.. Please… Don't.. Leave me here… Alone again," she whispered one of her fists tightening as the words were spoken shakily.
Miroku inhaled sharply as her skin was exposed, praying that he would not give into temptation, because she would surely kill him if he touched her. He was distracted momentarily by the chain and pendant that had been exposed and he almost reached over and touched them, before recalling the woman to whom the items belonged. She'll kill me. She'll kill me. She'll kill me. Yet, he wanted to know what they were, and why she possessed such dark material. Miroku was not fool enough to believe she was an innocent, despite her youth and beauty. He knew very well that Kitsunu was as fatal as she was beautiful and, perhaps, just as dark. But he had never thought she was…malevolent. Her desperate words, completely unlike those she usually uttered, only reinforced his surprise and disbelief. "Kitsunu?" Miroku said, this time dropping the title in the hopes of surprising her awake.
She'll kill me. She'll kill me. She'll kill me. Why had her skin been exposed the moment he had awoken? In this specific circumstance? It seemed so unfair. But, as hard as it was to concentrate on the horrors she must be reliving (if she sounded as she did), Miroku was determined to do so, because she would kill him otherwise. "Kitsunu-sama?" He didn't bother dropping the title, because it hadn't worked the first time.