Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter One.
A.N.: The first few paragraphs of this refer back to events that came out about a year ago, where Kagura is still guarding Goryoumaru's cell - the supposed "final task" that Naraku has given her. The last paragraphs tie back into the first pages of chapter 410.
I have looked a bit, but there doesn't seem to be any concrete proof in the manga that Byakuya was definitely created/born after Kagura's death. So, theoretically it's possible, at least, for them to have briefly met each other as they do here. If I'm mistaken in assuming this then, well, try to take this as a speculative, "what if" kind of piece, all in good fun.
The title of this chapter also conforms to the "-ion" trend set by those of the previous two.
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Succession
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Stone steps run haphazardly into the nearest doorway, and he wanders down them while thinking none too well of Naraku's tastes in interior décor. Focusing single-mindedly on the sheer boredom derived from his current environment, he is startled by first the sound of an unfurling object from the obscurity ahead, and then the clear, cold call of "Who's there?"
A red-eyed woman, near the far wall of the room. Framed by spectral incandescence, her silhouette is taut against grotesque fabrications of stone. The fan held open in her right hand looks sharp-edged and slightly foreboding, even if he isn't sure of what exactly she plans to do with it. Perhaps the next time he took it upon himself to explore the castle, he would do well to at least send an illusion in front of him.
With one foot on the bottom step, he halts. "Me."
Her eyes narrow. She does not appreciate the joke in the least.
"Byakuya of the Mirage," he amends, because after all he didn't want trouble, not when he'd only been in existence for less than a week. "I s'ppose you could call me the newest addition to Naraku's clan. If I might ask, what are you doing here?"
"Keh." The fan snaps shut to indicate a man lying, evidently unconscious, behind thick steel bars. "What the hell does it look like I'm doing?"
"So is this what Naraku has his bunshin do these days." She mutters sharply. "Take walks around this accursed place, and report what they see."
He wasn't sure if he found her attitude annoying or gratifying.
"Unfortunately, dear lady, he hasn't told me to do anything. Thus far, I've yet to even set foot outside the castle." A sarcastic smile thrown in, for good measure. "I do so wonder what it's like out there."
She stares cautiously. "Hmph. You'll find out soon enough."
"So is he all he's made out to be? This 'Inuyasha'."
"Depends if you are all you're made out to be."
Was that contempt he saw? Well, he was here to learn, after all. "Oh?"
"See for yourself, won't you? Though, I'd sure as hell try not to mess with the older brother."
"So is this what Naraku has beautiful wind demons do these days." He remarks off-handedly. "Sit in the midst of such extravagant accommodation, and attend to sleeping prisoners."
She gives him full attention, and he knows that he has struck a chord. Red eyes frown as if gaging him, trying to decide how much to reveal.
"Not all of them." She says after a pause.
"Just those he no longer needs."
He quirks a brow but notes her defiant and oddly seriously tone, and wonders if all the youkai in the castle would prove as interesting as she.
"It's a bit misunderstood - my brand of magic, that is. Just because it doesn't deal with things that are real doesn't make it any less powerful."
He muses aloud. Unlike Naraku, he doesn't do it just to hear the sound of his own voice.
"I mean, try and think of an enemy that wouldn't be tempted to run, faced with opponents that it can't even see. Or a person who wouldn't wish for a good, solid illusion spell, when they have something of importance to hide."
"Hmph. Sounds damn useful, I guess."
The most straightforward conclusion to be made was that she didn't like Naraku. He imagines himself being forced to guard an abandoned castle room for who knew how long, and decides she had a point.
Nothing in her behavior suggested that she was planning anything out of the ordinary, but he is certain that she is. No matter how treacherous a surface, beneath it there were always things to be felt rather than seen. Life and illusions were quite similar in that respect.
"Have fun." He calls as he turns back into the stone corridors.
"Damn you." He hears her mutter, sounding more resigned than angry.
A few days later and on another excursion, he rounds a corner and runs almost headlong into Hakudoushi. Silver hair and amethyst eyes flash as they pass in the narrow hallway, calculating and flint-hard.
"Kagura is a traitor. It would do well to stay away from her."
He listens, not because he held any respect at all towards the brat. But what Hakudoushi knew, Naraku must as well. Conversations tend to lose their potential for amusement, once they are held at the cost of trouble.
A few more days of boredom and he is sent on his first assignment. Leaving home for the first time, he thinks ironically, as he departs from the cliffs on a paper crane.
He spends weeks wandering the area, since the instructions Naraku imparted were vague at best. Apart from occasional visits from the Saimyoushou, he during this time is completely isolated from latest developments in his creator's grand scheme. And it's perfectly fine by him because, as he'd thought countless times before, it's not like he cares.
He meets two – well, truthfully, one-and-a-half – silver-haired demons, and wonders briefly whether the red-eyed woman is still guarding her cell.
From a perch atop the wind-swept escarpment, he watches the winged shape approach from above. One blink, and he has committed to memory all that it had witnessed. Two rapid reruns of Moryoumaru's words, and he grasps the fact that she is dead.
She'd gone through with it, whatever she'd planned, and truthfully he had thought her to be the type that would. He doesn't think that he feels one way or the other about it, because after all she was only someone he'd seen briefly in passing in a listless castle, not someone he had known, if he even had the inclination to get to know people.
The suddenness of death ought have no impact upon him, either, for in his mere weeks outside he'd seen plenty of it. Yet something about the event had latched in a most bothersome fashion onto the fringes of his thoughts, and he wonders if it is potential for more somethings to come.
When he goes to see Naraku minutes later, he wears a mask as convincing and as hollow as any of his illusions. Even as he recounts these latest events he scrutinizes the smirking face of his creator, and for the first time it occurs to him that he does not like whatever game this man was playing. What would the latter do and not do, he wondered, when it was his, Byakuya's, life at question?
"Who's Kagura?" He asks after a pause, and watches Naraku emerge from reverie to face him, looking for an instant less than calm.
He stares back innocently, knowing that, with all that had become of Hakudoushi, the other could not know of how he'd wandered into a dark dungeon room two months ago. For heightened effect, he adds, just as nonchalantly, "Mouryoumaru mentioned someone by that name."
"Your elder sister." The edges of Naraku's lips curl. "She ignored my instructions, tried to complete her tasks of her own means, and was inevitably killed in the process."
It is second nature for him to glance off, smile, and makes a disinterested remark. But beneath it all he understands, and thinks, still detached, no, not true. You killed her yourself.
And maybe there was good reason. Or some reason, at least. But why lie about it?
There are many things more he could have told Naraku to serve the latter's advantage. Instead he lets his mind wander, and says nothing at all.
All things considered, he looks back briefly and thinks that he could call her foolish. Passion, and compassion, are after all hardly to be commended when they lead anyone to get themself killed.
He knows that it's better to going along with what people think they see in you. Stay on their better side, and they will leave you alone. He supposed, though, that she wouldn't have come across nearly as interesting, had she been to sort to follow this kind of advice.
Hours later, and still he finds himself perusing Mouryoumaru's words. For some reason, they hold for him an irksome and peculiarly lasting ring that is, for once, not a mirage, even if his conscience has become one in itself.
…betrayed Naraku, and betrayed me.
Pointless as demise. Tantalizing as wind.
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