Chapter 2

"Punishment"

In order to resurrect Kikyo, Naraku had his servants break into her crypt to steal her body and the sacred canopic jars in which her organs were stored.

Her mummification had to be completed before he could even attempt the spell, he knew that. All the same, having to wait 70 days nearly drove him to the brink of his already strained psyche. All he could think about was her. Those dark eyes, that soft hair. He found himself lingering on the cherished memories from the handful of times they had made love. Never sleeping, for he was haunted by visions of her. Naraku wasted away. He became a near-skeleton and his once shiny, thick hair dulled and thinned.

He still had a hold on reality, but just with the barest of threads.

The night they recovered her body was one of the most bittersweet experiences of his life. Here she was, his love, beautiful even in death, but stone cold and unable to open her eyes and arms to him once again.

She wouldn't stay that way if he had any say about it.

He and his minions flew swiftly into the desert. Naraku cradled Kikyo's still form in his arms as her rode on his miasma cloud. One of his head servants, a pale boy name Hakudoshi rode up alongside him.

"Don't consider me rude for asking," he said in his whispery voice, "But where are we going, exactly?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet, Hakudoshi?" Naraku asked. "Where else can someone resurrect the dead?"

"Surely you don't mean—"

"I do mean. We're going to Hamunaptra."

Hamunaptra was not a beautiful city like Thebes. It was dark, and cold. It served its purpose. Hamunaptra was the ancient burial site for the sons of the pharaohs and resting place for the wealth of Egypt.

The City of the Dead.

Down they went, to the center of the city.

In the main chamber of the Great Temple was a pair of stone altars and a bubbling black pool. Naraku set Kikyo down on one of the Altars and brushed a gentle hand through her hair. He motioned for the servants to place the jars in a line alongside her. After a moment of staring at the alabaster jars, his face twisted into one of rage and he stormed off, elsewhere into the city.

Kagura, another one of his minions leaned toward Hakudoshi. She was something of his antithesis, a voluptuous woman with a dark voice and passionate eyes.

"I don't like this," she whispered. "This is a sacred place. Doing shit like this will bring the wrath of the Gods down on our heads. Or at least some terrible luck."

Hakudoshi just chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous Kagura. We'll get what we came for and be on our way."

She made a sour face, not reassured at all.

But now was not the time to bring any doubts to the table, for Naraku had returned. And in his hands was the obsidian-encrusted black Book of the Dead.

All of the demons in the room fell silent.

The great black pool began to burble faster.

The minions took their positions in a circle around the twin altars.

Naraku began to read the words of the spell from the book.

Up. Down. Up. Down. The minions bowed from their knees continuously and chanted in solemn tones along with their master. Louder and louder his voice grew, chanting in the sacred tounge.

Kagura looked up and noticed a smoky specter beginning to form above the black pool. As the ceremony continued, more and more substance began to form on it. Soon, it floated away from the pool, up past the bowing demons, over the five jars of organs, until it slowly settled back into Kikyo's body.

Naraku's voice continued to rise, higher and higher in volume.

The corpse took a shuddering breath and opened it's eyes.

Naraku lifted the book high for the final rites of the spell. Kagura felt it becoming difficult to breathe, like the air was simply too thick for her throat. Looking around, she saw threads of color leaking out from the other demons into the Book of the Dead. Damn that Naraku! He was draining the life from his servants to raise Kikyo!

Kagura was seething in rage. If the bastard didn't have total control over her she'd slice his lily-white throat for this!

She wouldn't have to.

For right as he was speaking the final stanza of the spell, a great "whoosh-whoosh" sound rang out in the chamber. From the shadows, a giant bone boomerang appeared and smacked the black book right out of Naraku's hands!

"No!" he cried, scrambling after it.

But before he could get to it, he was pinned to the ground by two men in the black bodysuits of the Madji. Naraku watched in horror as the black specter of Kikyo's soul was wrenched away from its body and sucked back into the black pool. He could not withhold the cry of outrage as more Madji appeared from the shadows, surrounding and subduing his entourage of demons.

Naraku struggled with all of his might, but the months of pining for his love had weakened him considerably. In his prime he perhaps could have taken on one full madji, but in his withered state he was hardly a match for two. And then there were two black boot-clad feet inches from his nose. He hadn't heard it, but the Madji were trained to be as silent as a padding leopard. He looked up into the face a sharp-nosed man with a black goatee and the great boomerang over his shoulder.

"Ichimaru!" he spat, "I should've seen this coming…"

"Yes you should've, Naraku," he replied calmly. Ichimaru bent down to look Naraku in the eyes.

"You know what you've done," he said. "Your crimes against Egypt, and the Gods shall not go unpunished. Aren't you the high priest? I'm sure you know what the sentence is for blasphemers such as you."

Naraku paled. Of course he knew.

He was to be cursed with the Hom-Dai.

Naraku and his demons were condemned to be mummified alive, but that was only the beginning. The curse would forbid his soul to rest, or his life to completely end. He would feel his tounge and eyes being torn and ripped from his face. He would feel his organs being cut from his abdomen. He would feel the flesh-eating scarabs skittering over and under his skin, devouring the meat of his body. Naraku's only hope was that someone would resurrect him again, for he would arise an inhuman thing, with incredible strength, powers over the sands, and bring with him the legendary 10 plagues.

He did feel all of those things, more vividly than any would care to imagine.

And for over three thousand years, the descendants of Pharaoh's sacred body guard, the Madji, stood by and kept watch over his unholy tomb.