Fancy Disclaimer: I only own my OC. I wish I owned more---well, maybe without all the one hundred filler episodes. .
A/N: This is just a small portion of a story I wrote. I figured it could survive as a one-shot. Ta-dah. Oh! Although Hitomi, the OC, refers to Naraku as both Muso and Onigumo, rest assured that it's all Naraku.
Virtue
I found it hard to remember a time before my existence as a shrine maiden, a time before Onee-san. I thought the world of her, but she rarely had time or attention to spare. Her impure heart dwelled on Kikyou until her own anger and jealousy tainted every part of her soul. Still, I never forgot the last words Onee-san said to me.
Now you'll know what it feels like.
After she'd said those words, she gouged out my eyes with a piece of her broken mirror. To me, everything seemed to fall apart at its seams. Fire consumed without purification, leaving evil in its wake. The shrine was no more; the world lacked a place for Shinto.
.:.:.:.:.:.
The Reformed Bandit!
It was winter when I first met him.
I used my wooden staff to feel for the edge of the road. My market venture had taken longer than expected, but I'd managed to pack my cart with the freshest vegetables that were left. Harsh frosts had already killed whatever remained in the fields, so village markets relied solely on storage sheds to make it through the frigid temperatures. So was the way of the countryman.
"I'm sorry," I apologized profusely as I bumped into a firm chest. "I was sure I kept to the roads well." I thought of reaching out to feel along the man's features, but I kept my hands as they were. Behind me, my horse exhaled loudly, shifting its weight.
"You're blind, woman?" The tone of his voice sent a chill down my spine. For a moment, I swore I recognized the voice, but my memory refused to allow a face to surface. I nodded my head in response to the man's question and left it at that. "Do you need any help?" He still stood in front of me, but I couldn't judge the distance unless I extended my hand.
"You'll be wanting some sort of payment?" I couldn't help but frown at the audacity of some of the youth. At sixty-three years old, it seemed quite a common complaint. Just as I reached for the pouch of money within my raggedy clothing, he took hold of my wrist.
"I consider this as part of my repentance," he responded, his voice warm on my cold face. I'd never noticed how empty the roads were until silence fell between us once more. No women shuffled along the roads, no shouting children darted between the legs of passersby, and no men muttered amongst themselves about their days in the fields. It was just the two of us.
"A criminal then? I have no desire for a criminal to take advantage of me, an old woman. This food is for the orphanage. You'd do well to be going on your way." I moved my hand to try and free my wrist from his grasp, but he released the appendage without any need of force. Even as I tugged on the reigns of my horse and heard the creaking and groaning of the wooden cart, I knew he continued to follow me. "I ask you kindly to leave me be and now you pursue this old woman. What is it you want, really?" I thought of offering some cabbage or leeks, perhaps even a small portion of rice.
"I saw an old woman on the road and I stopped to help. I have nowhere else to be." I sighed to myself, my lips pressed together in a thin line. First he was a criminal and then a wanderer. With a simple jerk of my head, I motioned for him to lead the way back to my village of Anzu. If he needed a place to stay, I welcomed all travelers into my small shrine.
"Do you have a place to stay, traveler?" I pulled my cloak tighter around my form as a harsh wind blew in from the north. Cold droplets splattered across my face, going from ice crystals to water droplets. It didn't surprise me that the snow had come earlier than the last cold season.
"Muso." He shared his name with me, but I couldn't see the sinister smile that crossed his face. When he helped me across the village threshold and up the small hill to my meager shrine, I begged him to put the cart and horse in the shed while I made a bitterroot tea. Leaning heavily on my staff, we parted ways at the entrance to the shrine.
Leaving my shoes outside the door, I slipped the heavy cloak from over my shoulders and hobbled into my home. Since the village lacked any funding from its lord, I made my home in the rear of the shrine, separating the areas with a large blanket. The chill of the stone floor quickly numbed the pain in my feet, but the cold only made my back hurt worse.
"My name is Hitomi. I'm the keeper of this village shrine, meager as it may be," I smiled and held out the warm cup of tea, unsure of the expression my guest wore. Whether or not he meant harm, I always kept a small blade on hand. Many desperate bandits attempted to rob shrines of donations. Not a single man had succeeded with my shrine.
"Tell me, woman. Do you know of a woman named Tsubaki?" He smiled as he raised the cup to his lips, the scent of ginger nearly overpowering his senses. Just the way he said her name made me realize that the man had lied about his profession and redemption.
"Onee-san. Yes, I know her well. Possessed by her own inner darkness, she sought the help of demons to retain her youth and beauty. What has become of her? That must be why you're here." I placed my cup beside the hearth and directed my face towards the warmth of the fire. No matter how hard I tried to remember the name Muso, I failed. Perhaps he'd lied about that as well.
"In a way." He paused in his talking to finish the rest of the bitter tea and offered his empty cup for more. Without a single sound, I ladled more of the hot beverage into the clay cup. "You didn't once try to get revenge for what she did to you, did you, Hitomi?" I set my jaw, my eyes narrowing to show my annoyance with the subject.
"Revenge is for the weak of heart. A priestess stays to the right path, even when others do not. I uphold my vows." I rested my hands in my lap, stretching my fingers to relieve the ache in my joints. "My village burnt to the ground, two priestesses were lost, and the Shikon jewel---I recognize your voice and the feel of malice in the air. Even after all these years, I haven't forgotten you." Even though I kept my voice level, the shock radiated from the expression on my face. Empty eyes no longer narrowed at the man across from me. "You sound well, Onigumo." And then he laughed.
"And you've aged from the annoying little brat that insisted on plaguing my deathbed, but I didn't come here to talk of old times or even of the dark priestess. I came to give you a choice." As he said those words, I felt the air become heavy with pure malice. It felt as if he'd stripped the false layer from himself, revealing his true nature for my senses to behold.
"I don't need a choice. You found the wrong woman to tempt with promises of power and immortality." I grunted and added more brush to the fire. When I was a child, I used to sneak away from Tsubaki and accompany Kikyo as she went to treat the bandit known as Onigumo. I remembered, very clearly, the look on his face and the sound of his screams as she changed his bandages. I'd carted so many pails of water to that cave. "You have no business with me. Let me die in peace." I felt around for my staff and pulled myself to my feet.
"I will have the Shikon no Tama in my possession." He opened my hand and placed a broken piece of a mirror into my palm. Tsubaki had been so obsessed. I'd only managed to glimpse the sacred jewel; never once had I held such an important object. I traced around the outside of the jagged mirror, noting the dried residue of blood. He brought me not only a memory but an actual piece of my past. "It was my plan to intervene, to taint the jewel beyond any repair." In my mind, I finished the sentence for him. He seemed to taint anything beyond repair.
Now you'll know what it feels like.
Tsubaki had cared so much about the jewel. When I was her apprentice, she told me tales of all the wonderful things the possessor could obtain. The Shikon no Tama seemed a curse upon all of Japan; I wanted nothing to do with the impure object. And yet, when I thought of it in my hands, I swore I heard whispers of better days and promises of true happiness.
"I can give you your sight; I can restore your youth." His voice sounded like pure seduction, weaving around me as if I were caught in a spider's web. Sixty-three years suddenly seemed so long. I felt exhausted in every sense of the word.
"And in return? What is it I can do for you, demon?" I almost didn't believe I'd responded to his bait. His promises swayed me away from the purity I'd sworn to retain. I wondered how many others had fallen victim to his evil charms.
"For now, loyalty is all I ask. In exchange, I offer you sight and youth." Such results! Everything sounded so simple, but I knew the difficulties I faced. He asked me to sell my soul in exchange for the very same things Tsubaki had obtained. Unlike Tsubaki, I had aged; I understood the cycle of loss.
"When I burn in hell for the sins I commit, where will you be then?" I continued to hold the mirror in my palm, feeling the evil pulsate across my flesh and slowly ascend towards my heart. He must have known the battle going on inside my head. It was as if he knew every thought that crossed my mind.
"You wanted to marry and have children of your own. No man would marry a cripple. Do you remember when they said that? Tsubaki took your chance at happiness. Only then did you commit yourself to the shrine." He pressed a hand to my stomach and I felt something wet land on my hand. The tears only continued to cascade down my aged face. It scared me that he spoke nothing but the truth. He tempted me with honesty and things that should have been mine. He offered me only what I deserved. It was then that I understood what Onee-san went through. I gave my soul to Naraku.
Now you'll know what it feels like.