To be perfectly honest, she was the sort of person that no one could ever seem to "figure out". Two of the country's most prestigious psychiatrists had analyzed her, tested her, questioned her… over and over, until her head swam with fatigue and annoyance. It was easy enough to just stamp her with insanity, but each time that happened, her disbelieving father would ask for a second opinion.
This had happenedaround the timeshe turned twelve.
Her neighborhood-famous doll collection had been scattered around her bedroom, and- scissors in hand- this child had proceeded to snip, snip, snip away at all of their precious, plastic hair. Blond, red, auburn, brunette, black… great heaps of the stuff covered her wooden desk, and neatly made bed. Oh, how mother had screamed when she saw it; her daughter's lovely little art project. As for her father… well, he could not seem to call Dr. Hineko fast enough.
In the end, her preoccupation with hair (natural and artificial alike) was waved off as a phase, though six months of her childhood had trickled away as she was treated at a local hospital for mental health. No scissors there, though each patient was allowed a pair of nail clippers, which served her purpose well enough.
Violet, fuchsia, forest green, and white… she had never had the privilege of gathering those colors before, but locks of those gorgeous hues decorated her jewelry boxes, drawers, and the insides of her pockets.
Poor, poor Yura is just so… misunderstood! Her creativity needed a release, and her hair fetish was the result of a sudden, artistic inspiration! Please, do not sit there and tell me that my daughter is mad! What sort of doctor are you, anyway?
Inwardly, she began to laugh in a hysterical manner, even as she brushed her roommate's hair in a tender, loving fashion. Few others allowed her to play with their treasures as She did, but Yura doubted that her roommate even noticed her ministrations; Kanna rarely seemed to notice anything at all.
It was so lovely too… soft, ivory, delicate… Yura shivered as she combed the strands with her bare fingers, biting down on her tongue in delight. She giggled lightly, and leaned down to brush her lips against the ashen tone, continuing to stroke it with her fingers. It looked… just like the foam of a waterfall, cascading down the back of the younger girl's head, neck, and back. So gorgeous, lovely, beautiful… as she touched it, Yura could hear the tresses calling out to her, coaxing her on.
Kanna was undeserving of such wonderful hair. When Yura had just moved into this room- or cell, as she thought of it- she had outright demanded that she be able to wash the girl's hair for her (if she didn't, the poor darlings would never get the treatment they deserved!), and Kanna, not one to be a very difficult person, had allowed her this.
She leaned forward, and drew in a shaky breath; inhaling the scent she so adored. Her roommate was merely an oversized doll, one that Yura dearly loved to play with and fawn over.
Slowly she wrapped her arms around the younger girl's shoulders, placing brief kisses along the back of her head and neck.
Such lovely, lovely hair.
Okay… First off, let me just say that I adore Yura. I think that she's one of the greatest villains in the show, and probably the most fun to write. Second, if someone feels like writing a lime or lemon for this story,that would be awesome(Yura/Kanna, of course). Last of all, I don't own Inu Yasha or the characters, although Yura would make an excellent early Valentine's Day gift. .;