Disclaimer: Ok, I might have lied when I said I own nothing. On second inspection, I guess I do own a few other things… But only a few, I swear! Unfortunately, none of those things are the right to Inuyasha…
But enough madness - more plot-thickening! Yes?
A high-tech, state-of-the-art eye-scan examined the intricate patterns of a young woman's brown eyes; the way she shuffled to and fro throughout the scan made it clear that she was growing impatient with the growing security checkpoints.
"It's not as if I could even get the building if I didn't work here," she muttered with irritability at the inanimate object, her sultry voice laced with scorn. The machine just hummed away, dutifully and efficiently scanning its records, obviously unaware of the hassle it caused its patrons.
"Level 5 clearance verified."
The young woman sniffed in slight disdain as the large metal doors swished open before her, allowing her access to the inner laboratory. Without a backwards glance, she picked up her briefcase and stalked into the room –
- only to find her very least favorite person already lounging idly within.
"What do you want, Naraku?" Kikyo demanded, her voice calm and composed, though smolderingly hatred dangerously flashed within her narrowed eyes. "I have work to do – and if you wanted it done, you would leave me to it."
The man looked up with feigned mild surprise, but the slow, deliberate way he moved and regarded her made it very clear that he was anything but. Blue-eye lined mahogany eyes slid leisurely over her form, leaving her feeling violated even from beneath her thick white lab coat - the visual interrogation felt akin to greasy hands being rubbed over her bare skin. In spite of her most valiant effort to remain obstinately stoic in the face of his blatant attempt to unsettle her, Kikyo shivered.
The shiver wasn't born from fear, however; Naraku's other henchman might cower in fright of him, Kikyo did not. She would not. Instead, she narrowed her own eyes and returned his glare with one of her own, palatable loathing filling the silence between them.
Finally, the man called Naraku broke the silence, his voice laced with sweet sarcasm. "Now, Kikyo – is that any way to treat me? I, to whom you owe everything you have – everything you are?" Now, he slid his gaze idly to his fingernails, examining them as if they were the most interesting things in the world.
"I owe you nothing, Naraku!" the young woman snapped; though her composure remained as indifferent as ever, her lashing denial was scornful. "What I was indebted to you I have repaid time and again!"
'You made a pact with the devil – you signed away your soul. You will never be free of him,' the logical part of her mind reminded her. It seemed like so long ago that she had bound herself to this terrible man…
Once, she had been an innocent youth. She had regarded the world with a bright and eager eye – once, she had seen the good in the world as she excitedly pursued knowledge. Oh, what a dreadful youth she had been – if only her heart had been bleaker – if only she had had less aptitude for the schooling she had wanted so badly –
But alas, her fool heart had led her on, and her traitorous mind had soaked in the knowledge like a dry sponge. She had thrived on the challenge of school, and she met each and every day with a vivacious drive that had made her all the better suited for it. By what terrible twist of fate had she first allowed herself the notion of becoming a great scientist, a profound researcher?
By what terrible twist of fate had she been born poor?
Or, perhaps the most poignant of the questions yet: by what terrible twist of fate had she found Naraku?
Oh, Naraku… Young, handsome – quiet, intelligent, wealthy Naraku.
'Deceitful, treacherous, hateful, conniving Naraku!' her mind screamed at her past-self, yet ever her fate remained the same, ever she stayed the course…
And oh, how she hated herself for it… but never as much as she hated Naraku; no – never that.
How could she have resisted when the wealthy young man had made such promises to her? How could she have resisted the funding he so promptly offered her? True, she had known that all was not as it seemed – she had known that his money was dirtied, and in taking it, she too would become the same...
But oh, those traitorous dreams of hers! How doggedly they had eaten at her, how doggedly her own psyche had turned on her, pleading and cajoling and convincing until she had readily accepted the manipulative offer. 'He will pay for my college – and as part of the deal, he guarantees me a job working for him afterwards,' her past-self argued forcefully. 'How could I pass up such an offer?' How, indeed?
"Time and again…" she finished in a whisper, but even to her own ears the words were lipid and feeble, unconvincing. Oh yes, she had eagerly accepted that proffered deal, that bloodied money – she had gotten that damned schooling she had yearned so badly for – but she had paid for it with her soul…
"Have you?" the older man asked idly, still investigating those damned fingernails, his body language silently screaming, 'What you say means nothing.' When he continued, his voice was filled with cryptic mockery; as if to further make light of the situation, he carelessly flipped his long wavy locks over one shoulder. "So why do you remain, then, Doctor Kikyo? Praytell, she who has repaid her debts time and again – do explain."
"You know goddamned well why I stay, Naraku!" she snapped coldly. "For the Jewel!"
Not even quite in her third decade of living, and already she hated the world – long gone were those days of bright-eyed greetings to the beginning of each new morning. Here were the days of hate and contempt. Here were the days that she used everything she had so happily learned in hopes of progressing mankind instead for the progression of a man she had grown to hate – for the progression of a man she now knew possessed a soul as black as the pitch of night.
Days of fruitful research, days when she could almost forget where she was or why she was here, were always interrupted by Naraku or one of his minions. Chemistry had once been something fascinating for her – she had always performed so well in the classes. 'Kikyo's experiments always turn out the best,' the other students would complain enviously; 'Kikyo always gets A's on the tests.' So fascinating, so important – chemistry had churned out some of the most prolific, life-saving medicines through the years – penicillin, ammonia, hydroxide…
And yet for every life-saving medicine, there were two life-taking poisons, two foul gases that could snuff the life from a human in a single breath, two acids that could so terribly burn a man that DNA analysis would be necessary to identify him, a timely and costly process that would give Naraku and his men plenty of time to befoul the trail leading back to them. If only she had known that the knowledge she had sought so as to save life would only be used to take it. If she had known this would be her cruelly ironic fate – better that she had died in the slums from whence she came! Surely a physical death – any physical death – was better than this never-ending hell. Surely death was better than knowing that every day she came to work, every concoction she made – it all was a twisted trail leaving inevitably to death.
She might have left – surely she could have years ago. A change in name, a change in address – a change in country; while none of these things would guarantee her being out of his reach (in point of fact, she doubted any of these things would do more than delay his finding her, should he put his mind to it – such was the extent of his network), she doubted that she was really worth the effort to him. There were other young women out there to be manipulated, other young women who would do his dirty work. He already had others: dozens that she knew of – possibly hundreds that she didn't. She might have considered leaving, at one point…
But the jewel had changed everything.
The Shikon Jewel – now her existence, and as such, her bane.
As soon as she had heard of its discovery she had been unnaturally drawn to it. As a scientist, she had wanted very greatly to study it. As the self-absorbed woman she had slowly morphed into over the years, she had wanted very badly to be the one studying it. Naraku, undoubtedly knowing what advantages could be made if he had the jewel and was able to monopolize on the great discoveries made from studying its strange atomic structure, had been only too eager to accommodate her desire.
She didn't know how he got it – she didn't even care. His massacres were none of her concern; it was the facilities, the science, and the Jewel which she wanted, and it was all of these things which he provided her.
And so, she stayed. Even while loathing what terrible things he made her use her science for, she couldn't bring herself to stop. Her profession – or, more specifically, the Shikon Jewel – had become an obsession. It had taken months before he was able to have the facilities made in a location where they wouldn't be subject to scrutiny, and yet all those months, and even those years after she had earned her doctorate of chemistry and used it for Naraku's purposes, were worth it in the end. She would have done them ten times over again for that spectacular prize of the game – for that amazing, precious gem…
'All for a gem? Oh Kikyou, you wretched fool. What have you done?' But the guilty part of her, that small indignant voice crying out in the back of her mind, no longer mattered. It was too late for it to matter. She had made her choice, and now, as ever, she stayed the course…
Unaware or indifferent to her internal musings, Naraku spoke four words that shattered her silent reverie: "The Jewel is gone."
The blood rushed from her already pale face, and yet Kikyo still did not bring down her icy composure. "What do you mean, gone?" she hissed, her mind reeling.
"It seems Onigumo thought it would catch a fair price on the market," Naraku spoke, his composure still as indifferent as ever. "He stole it last night and killed the guards before fleeing. It seems he ran afoul, however, as he is dead, and the Jewel is gone."
He spoke of his own son's death as if he were making note of the weather. While it wasn't any secret that Naraku had never much cared for his playboy son, she still thought that he might have shown some remorse, or sorrow – or anything! But, callous as ever, Naraku just sat there.
'Monster,' that small voice screamed. And yet she was mildly surprised to hear the cold indifference in her own words. "Where is the Jewel?"
"I am beginning to think that the police were involved in its recovery," the monster admitted, a sly look in his eyes.
"I want it back." She no longer recognized herself; what was she saying?
"And how do you propose I do that?" he prompted. "Didn't you once go out with someone in the police?"
"He wouldn't give me the time of day now!" she snapped irritably. "Set your gods-damned Kanna on it – I don't care how you find it! Just get it back!" Why did she feel so possessive of it? Why was it so vital that it be returned?
'Your life is nothing without it. The Shikon Jewel is your life,' that horrified voice in the back of her mind whispered.
"And how am I to keep it from simply being taken again?" he continued with his subtle prompting. "Onigumo is dead – and yet, perhaps my other minions will be inspired to follow his example in betraying me. What would keep this from happening again, Kikyo?" Somewhere, the back of her mind screamed for her to not take the bait – and yet she did anyway.
"Make an example of someone!" she snarled, her voice chillingly harsh. "Make an example of the next most instrumental person in its theft! Make an example of their whole gods-damned family – I don't care! Just get it back!"
Even as the words left her mouth, and even before the corners of his thin lips curled up in satisfaction, she knew that she had played right into his hands. He had already planned on doing just that, no doubt; and yet still, he had come here just to goad her on, just to manipulate her – just to check if her spirit had been broken yet. And she had played right into his hands; she had condoned – no, she had demanded – that which once had appalled her.
She had demanded the murder of another human being.
'Your soul has become as dark as his – as dark as pitch. Oh, have far you have strayed, Kikyo…' Somewhere deep inside of her heart, that which was good wept bitterly. Or perhaps it died.
And yet somehow, she couldn't bring herself to care.
Ohhhh my. I really liked that – tragic enough? Please let me know what you think! Suggestions and comments are always welcome!