Inuyasha © Takahashi Rumiko
Heaven
"Would you like some tea, Kanna?"
"Yes, Naraku-sama." She bows and thanks him in the most polite manner and takes a small china cup. Tea, or any other kind of liquid, for that matter, is not something she needs to sustain herself, but she is always ready to join her master.
It doesn't matter if he orders her to attack Kagome and her friends when he comes up with a new plan or offers her some tea because he finds her company enjoyable for some reason that she doesn't want to question. She does what her creator tells her to, and it's only natural.
She follows the simplest laws – is abiding by Naraku's rules really that hard? – that she can't even begin to understand – and never breaks them, like a flawless mechanism. Her existence is perfect, in a sense.
She is rational, and rational servants don't disobey their masters.
"I'm glad that you came, Kanna."
He is. The pale ghost-like girl is not overly talkative and speaks only when he asks her – and even then she doesn't break into ridiculously elaborate speeches, unlike Kagura, who always has to describe every single detail and then express her own opinion. But Kanna lacks emotions, and her mind is not clouded by unnecessary feelings.
She is his best creation, his favorite. There are many servants in his shadowy castle – some are powerful and independent – or so they want to believe – some are quiet and loyal – but Kanna is probably the only one who makes him feel like a true master.
He doesn't have to tell her that, of course, and she doesn't want to know.
"Do you love me, Kanna?"
"No, Naraku-sama," she replies in a serene voice.
She is straightforward and honest, in a way that is almost – no, completely – unhuman.
The hanyou's peaceful expression doesn't change. He refills her cup and smiles.
"Good."
He knows, after all, that those who claim to love you are always the first to betray you.
