Wind's Nocturne by Charlene Prologue: Breath and Decay Standard disclaimers apply The entire building was so quiet I wanted to scream. How could people live like this, I thought angrily. My mind hurt me, thinking hurt me! This was a place for the dead and could never be anything more. It certainly smelled dead, and appearance-wise, I didn't really think I had to envision the perpetual cloudy gloom that eternally loomed over it—a curse of the wretched, to challenge that fact. Over the long stretches of time I was compelled to remain at this god-forsaken place, I had often, on fleeting whims and fancies of thought, contemplated killing myself as a means of escape. Death would be such sweet relief and oh, how I yearned for it day by day. But of course, like all the thousands of other alternatives that had each at a certain moment in time crossed my mind, it would lead nowhere. I would far rather breathe the dying stink of the decaying walls and live with some hope—no matter how small, than kill myself only to be returned to that repulsive being. For he would not of course, let a powerful detachment of his go to waste. Once reabsorbed, I would be re-detached, quite possibly into some hideous form or other, one that would never deign to think of betraying him. And that, would be worse than anything I could think of to happen to me. With that thought, my fury fizzled away into the dark nothingnesses of the room. I had on countless occasions gone through all this hatred and anger, but sooner or later I knew it would all come to naught because there was absolutely nothing I could do about my situation, no matter how much I bemoaned it. That thought alone should have been enough to get me angry again, but I really was too tired for all that today. I leaned back against the wall, exhausted with the way my day had begun. How tiring and bothersome this existence was… The tears came in such a rush I had no time to even think. They were hot on my cheeks, and with them came a sweeping sadness which felt heavy to my heart. I thought that I wanted to say to hell with it, and give in to the landslide of emotions for once. Just one time, and it would be enough to tide me over for at least a little longer. But I reminded myself that there were reasons I kept deeply secret within myself, to keep me from surrendering. The first, I didn't want to grieve. Naraku had my heart and he would know when I was sad, and I knew I would rather die than let him continue controlling me with knowledge of this—of my weakness. And the second, these tears…they didn't belong to me. They belonged to another time, another person, another set of memories. Another life. I swiftly dabbed at my cheeks with my kimono sleeve and watched as the liquid blotted and darkened the seamless red. It was good that I knew how to curb it when it started. This Kagura's grief was a heavy dignified grief that few, if not none, would be permitted to witness. For a second I allowed my thoughts to turn to my grief once more. It bothered me a lot. Too much, actually. Almost every time I began to ponder over my meaningless existence and the state my life was in, the tears would come suddenly and without warning, almost as if someone had triggered them in me with that train of thought. And I knew they were not mine because sometimes I felt almost irrational emotions—at once inexplicable and irrelevant to my person. The anger I could understand, and even some of the sorrow—signifying nothing more than the inevitable time-to-time mourning of this trapped existence. But sometimes a much deeper and most incomprehensible unhappiness would thread through my emotions, and would force the hot drops down my face with greater urgency than I would ever have thought my situation could warrant. I didn't pretend to understand it, but of course this disturbed me and I had to put it away from me as soon as it surfaced lest I dig up some undesirable memory from the recesses of my dispersed and long forgotten past. For the last thing I needed at present was a heavier burden than the fact that the single being I most despised held my heart in his hands, at the ready to shatter into a million ruby pieces. And if I ever knew there had ever been something in my past, something that was worth having, remembering, cherishing, I sometimes thought the sadness would overflow and I could never be able to bear it. Notes: Yes, this story has a plot and you will see it once you get past the prologue. ^_^; When Kagura says "This Kagura" I mean kono Kagura, which Sesshomaru and Naraku and even Jaken have made a habit of saying in their introductions or speeches or whatever. :D It occurred to me that Kagura is actually quite arrogant for a female detachment of the most disgusting youkai on earth, so it wouldn't appear particularly strange to have her say that. (And she's pretty damn powerful too, actually.) Just to clear that up… And, just for your information, there actually is a song titled "Wind's Nocturne" but it isn't anything like this fic. (And it wasn't particularly a source of inspiration.)
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