Naraku had spent the hour watching with satisfaction as Kikyo cried in fear. His reflection glowed evilly in Kanna's mirror as he watched Kikyo pay. He smiled, playing with his fingers in his lap. It was odd, actually. Naraku laughed like he was a teenager, laughing as he put his peer pressure on Kikyo. Still, when Naraku laughed, it was not nearly as pleasing as it was the last time. Perhaps Naraku did not really want to hurt Kikyo...he chose to pretend it was his imagination. He still convinced himself that the breakdown the other night was her payback scheme.
"What?" Naraku shouted, sitting up suddenly. He saw Kikyo stand up, and wipe her tears on her white blouse. She gathered her arrows and departed quickly, though she was not running. The soul collectors seemed to boost her speed, and Kikyo walked fast, as though someone was watching her.
"The illusory death! It...it failed?!" Naraku shouted, pounding his fists against Kanna's mirror. Slowly, Kanna reached out and poked him.
"You'll break the mirror," she said quietly. Naraku wouldn't care if he were to break thirteen mirrors! It would not rid him of the fresh anger that thrashed inside him just now. Still, he did not want to attack Kanna. He lowered his fists and let them fall to his sides. Naraku breathed heavily, strands of black hair falling from his ponytail.
"How did this happen? Damn!" he said, loudly but calmly. Naraku walked to the other side of the courtyard, and sat down on a cement wall under the tall tree that he called 'the old giant.' Kanna followed, and sat on the ground. The ground was old and the dirt was powdery from years of clansmen stomping across it in battle. Kanna sat with her legs under her again. Her white, ghostly face was at Naraku's knees.
Naraku could not understand. Just minutes ago, Kikyo felt the pain that he had felt years before. Now, she walked calmly, as if she just came from a prayer. How dare she! She must have used her spiritual powers to ward off the illusory death.
He should have known. He had seen this once before, when he tried turning the spell on Kagome in the woods. It was ineffective against her. The wench was Kikyo's reincarnation, so she, too, was dangerous.
Kagura slipped out of the back door slowly. She pulled on a pair of sandals, identical to Naraku's but smaller. "Well, Naraku? Now what do you suggest? Shall I go after the priestess and call her under the Dance of the Dead? Or shall I go after Kagome?" Naraku sighed and leaned against the cool, leathery trunk of the tree. "No," he said carelessly. He used one hand to grasp the wall he sat on. With his free hand, he reached into his collar and pulled out his own Shikon Jewel shards, which were elaborately stitched to a long, loose thread inside his shirt. "Perhaps I should be more watchful of these," he murmured. "Kikyo will want them. She is on her way here, I'm sure of it. She recognized the illusory death."
Kagura felt like throwing her head back to laugh at Naraku. She knew better, especially if her freedom and her life was in his hands. Instead she looked at the shards in Naraku's palm, and the mirror in Kanna's hands. "Which is why we must take action," Naraku said suddenly. Kanna looked up at Naraku, and molded her milk-white fingers around the ivory-rimmed bands that covered her mirror. Naraku stared down at the mountain paths that twisted around the village that his castle was on top of. "Yes. I'm sure of it."
Later on that night, Naraku walked down the still hallway. He reached his quarters in about five minutes' time, and sat on the floor by the large window. He stared outside and looked down. He saw the village below, and pressed his hand against the window, hoping to shield the image of those unworthy demon families.
Women walked about with sickles, cutting grass and collecting grain from the fields. Men tethered horses together, and their sons walked at their feet, herding the dappled mares with sticks. Little girls ran about, brushing their hair with one hand and carrying bottles of lukewarm sake in the other. The older folk sat in front of old, stone temples. The crotchety men sat by the doors of shrines, placing spell scrolls on the old brass locks. They would also sit in rows of five or six, relaxing after training by sucking on smoke pipes.
Naraku removed his hand from the window and blinked. These peoples' lives are nothing like mine. They act as though there are no dangerous times in the world. They have no idea how to control power, or even what power is!
"Foolish mortals." Still, Naraku's cruel remarks did not feel as pleasing as usual. It was just like the attack from the other night, only much worse. It was the work of Kikyo again!
Naraku curled up on the floor, forcing himself not to be frightened. He knew that if Kikyo sensed his fear, she would never cease to terrorize him. Blurry images projected themselves in Naraku's mind, and flashed into memories.
He began to think back to a time when he was still human. Naraku was known as the soldier Onigumo. He was wounded in battle, and Kikyo had cared for him in a cave outside the village. Onigumo grew stronger by day, both by willpower and his ever-growing respect for Kikyo.
One day, that respect turned to love and obsession. Onigumo's head ached, and he longed for Kikyo to be there, dabbing it gently with hot water and a cloth. One day, Onigumo longed for power rather than Kikyo. He allowed his wounds to re-open, and millions of demons flew inside his body.
Those demons gave Onigumo great strength. His body became strong, nearly invincible at the time. Onigumo then became known as Naraku, and he stalked people for the Shikon Jewel. So far, he was very successful.
Naraku blinked and shook his head wildly. He tried to take those horrid, foolish memories back and replace them with noble intentions. Kikyo's beautiful, sad face seemed to pop inside and out of his conscience, like a giant bubble that would never explode.
"NOOOOOOO! I will not give in!" Naraku shouted. "O..Onigumo!" Naraku covered his face with his hands, and his heart thrashed. Cold sweat fell from his forehead, and his skin grew pale. Naraku felt as though someone cut a large quarter of his flesh out, and it left a ragged hole in his side. He had no choice but to give in.
"O...Onigumo. He is...resurrected at last."