approximately 14 years later
Kiita stood in front of her mirror, brushing out her long silver hair, tinted with blond. The glint in her eyes had left years ago.
'I bare such a strange resemblance to Lord Sesshomaru-sama,' Kiita thought. She shrugged, passing it off as some strange coincidence, as she always did. After all, it would be impossible for her to be related to Lord Sesshomaru-sama, right? she was his koibito, his sei dorei. Whenever his urges came on, she was there to satisfy them. In return, Sesshomaru blessed her with warm food and a dry bed. He had also given her the privilege to come and go as she pleased, with a curfew, of coarse. She was the only servant with this privilege now, since Rin-chan had long since left to get married. Kiita could hardly remember her face, it was so long ago they'd said goodbye.
"Oh well. It's for the best," Kiita sighed. She grabbed a black-pearl comb off her vanity table, swept her hair up, and pushed the comb in, holding everything together. She'd received the comb a month ago, on her 15th birthday, from Lord Jaken. From Lord Sesshomaru-sama, she'd gotten a black, court-style kimono with a silver obi.
Flashback: Kiita's 15th birthday
"Oh Lord Sesshomaru-sama, Lord Jaken," Kiita gasped, "they, they're beautiful! They must have cost you so much!" Jaken beamed. Sesshomaru had barely smiled, though there was a glimmer of something in his eyes Kiita couldn't identify. She took it as pleasure. Kiita looked down at the gifts in her hands. Her expression turned from happy to confused.
"But, the other servants never receive such extravagant gifts. Why me?" Sesshomaru frowned, his eyebrows knitted. Kiita's heart stopped and her eyes grew big, swelling with fear. Sesshomaru appeared in front of her in a flash and before she could move, brought his hand back and whipped it. It collided with her cheek and sent her reeling a good few feet away. It left a red welt that burned worse than hell. Kiita sat up and grimaced. She brought her hand to her cheek and gently touched it with her fingertips as the tears began to sting behind her eyes. She kneeled and dropped her head to the floor, bowing.
"F-forgive me, Lord Sesshomaru-sama! I did not mean to disrespect you!" The tears were now searing down her cheeks. She stayed in that position for what seemed like an eternity before she heard the swish of her Lord's robes as he left the room. She clutched the comb and the robes to her breast, stifling her sobs as the tears poured out unmercifully.
"Poor girl," Jaken mumbled as he waddled over to her. He reached out and lifted her chin gently. She saw sorrow in his eyes, true pity for her.
"Oh Kiita-san. Lord Sesshomaru doesn't mean what he does. He loves you, really." She sniffed back her tears, and they embraced.
End Flashback
Since then, Kiita had always had felt a strong bond with Jaken. She went over to her rack of three Kimonos; one blue, one red, and one black. She took the black one. Softly, she slid off her work clothes (a simple tan haori tied around with a baby blue ribbon) and dropped them to the floor. Then she guided her arms through the imperial robes sleeves. Kiita wrapped the kimono closed and reached for the silver obi. She pulled it around her waist and did her best to tie it in the back. She then took a brush of her table and dipped in a pot of black ash. She swept it over her eyelids and blinked away the excess. Kiita set the brush back in its holder and took a slightly larger brush dipping it in a black paste Jaken had got her at the bazaar. She applied it to her lips with precision. She set that brush in its holder and stepped in front of her full-length mirror again. She gazed at herself, with somewhat of a longing in her eyes.
'I'm pretty on the outside, but inside . . .' She sighed. The thought was too horrible to finish. On the outside, everything pulled together. Her features complemented the kimono. She looked perfect in it, especially with the pearly comb. She was beautiful in black. She was gazing in her mirror again when her dog-ears picked up the sound of her screen opening. She whirled around to find Sesshomaru looking at her with the queerest expression. Kiita gulped.
"L-lord Sesshomaru-sama I didn't realize . . . I mean . . ." Kiita's face reddened. She reached up to take the comb out, but Sesshomaru held up a hand.
"Wait . . ."
In his eyes, Kiita saw a fire, a fire she knew well. She dropped her hand to her side and looked down preparing herself for what was to come. Sesshomaru walked over to Kiita and grabbed her arms, gently but firmly. Kiita slowly lifted her head but never met her Lord's eyes. This wasn't what she wanted, but what choice did she have? Kiita squeezed her eyes shut while he kissed her hard on the lips, then moved down her neck to her exposed collarbone. Then Sesshomaru picked Kiita up and carried her over to the futon at the opposite wall. Kiita just kept her eyes closed and waited for it to be over.
Later, after Sesshomaru had left, Kiita lay clutching the covers to her breasts, hiding her naked shame, as was felt after every "session". She stared, blank-eyed, at the ceiling, not even noticing the tears streaking down her cheeks.