Update! Much thanks to werewolfpixie and Kristina Marie for reviewing! :)

Following Kagura to a dimmed parlor, she fled as quickly as she came. Mizoshi was alone with the master of the house. He was sitting demurely by two polished mahogany tables; dressed in robes of resplendent mauve and cream that was decidedly more casual than his previous gold embossed kimono. This set of clothes was plainer, and obviously meant for leisure and perhaps sleeping. Sleeping…?

It had occurred to Mizoshi that she could've been brought to this gloomy castle for certain services that a concubine would perform, especially when Kagura labeled her own overlord as the 'most depraved, despicable bastard' on earth, but these thoughts wouldn't help her current plight. Even now, framed in the doorway, she could sense his scrutinizing, admiring eyes running up and down her silk encased form. There would be no escape.

Conjuring up in her memory when Naraku had fallen unconscious, Mizoshi forced herself to walk to the Naraku in the present. He appeared so innocent when his eyes were closed. But now, with his open red eyes staring hotly at her from the back of the shadowy room; she forced herself to steel her mind against all of Kagura's slights, or she wouldn't survive the second meeting.

Quietly, Mizoshi awkwardly sat at her table, noticing there was a cup of stifling, aromatic tea and smoked fish with a bowl of rice. She hadn't realized how hungry she actually was until that moment. It had been nearly two days since her last meal.

"Eat," his voice floated out of the shifting shadows. "You won't starve in my home, I can promise that."

Mizoshi glanced at his own place and saw a single cup and an elaborate teapot. He was not having breakfast. She peeked out him questioningly and found him watching her encouragingly. And dangerously.

Picking up her chopsticks, Mizoshi began shoveling the wonderful seasoned fish and perfectly cooked rice into her mouth, partly from hunger and partly from fear. She forgot her dainty, feminine meal manners and ate like a ravenous Samurai in the wilderness.

"I appreciate a woman with a healthy appetite," Naraku said amusedly.

A woman? No one had ever referred to her as such in her village. She was perpetually a girl or an otome, a maiden. As good as the trout was, it too reminded her of her former residence by the sea. Mizoshi once again held her tears inside. Weeping in front of her host would be inexcusable.

Sighing contentedly, Mizoshi set aside her empty dishes. "Thank you, Naraku-sama. You have been very generous to provide such a feast on short notice."

He chuckled; his wide smile revealing gleaming pointed teeth. "Anything for a guest."

Mizoshi tried to make out the shape of the man she was sitting beside, but he had merged with the darkness itself. She sat with the large window at her back while Naraku crouched in the inky corner. He had moved himself there somewhere in the middle of her breakfast. All she could see was his pale face and two burning scarlet eyes. His trailing, jet hair had disappeared altogether like smoke wafting in the evening sky. Under his searing gaze, she knew not what to say.

"Well?" His word hung in the thick air.

"Pardon?" she said innocently.

"Isn't there anything you wish to discuss? You must have some questions. Do not worry, I shan't rip out your tongue."

Naraku's demeanor did not relax her to say the least.

"Kagura," Mizoshi spoke up finally. "Is she your attendant? Your daughter?"

He chuckled. "Neither. She is my incarnation. I created her from my own body parts. I have two incarnations; Kagura is just one of them, and not very obedient at that."

"What are you going to do with me?" she suddenly blurted out. "Am I to take my leave? I suppose I could stay. I do require some sort of livelihood if you need a worker, Naraku-sama."

Sipping his tea thoughtfully, he set the cup down, the paleness of his hand peeking out of the curtain of shadow, only to be withdrawn again. It was as if he never allowed sunlight to touch his skin, akin to a spider hiding in its burrow.

"To answer your inquires, no, you shall not leave. You have provided me with genial company, and a genial woman should not wander in that demon-infested forest. Furthermore, no, you will not have to perform any specific tasks for me. All that I ask is that you stay."

"Why?" A chilling draft from the window swirled around Mizoshi's neck.

"You need a home, don't you? Consider it generosity."

What was left unsaid was that Mizoshi herself was a sort of prisoner. Looking carefully at the demon lord across from her, she gamely bowed her head. "I thank you, Naraku-sama."

"No need for gratitude. It is my own will I'm acting on after all."

Mizoshi tried to keep her stricken emotions from reaching her facial muscles. She resolved to show no reaction until Naraku placed something on her dining table. "Here, as further proof of my generosity, I have a gift for you."

Curiously, Mizoshi picked up the book that Naraku left her and read the title. It was a book of poetry. Such an odd present for a girl one barely knew. Still, excitement lit up her flaming gold eyes. It was unheard of for a female to own books. She had to read passages from her brothers' when they had finished studying with their kindly, old tutor.

"Thank you, Naraku-sama. You are doubly generous."

"Never forget it." Those sharpened teeth glittered. "You may leave now…Mizoshi was it?"

"Yes, Naraku-sama. I shall take my leave."

Eagerly rising from the wooden floor, she clutched the book to her heart and began walking. Yet, another question ached to be released.

"Naraku-sama?"

"Yes?"

"The youkai in white, who was he?"

"Sesshomaru, the Demon Leader of the West. Although, you needn't concern yourself with him," he drawled arrogantly.

She quickened her pace. Clearly, he would tell her only the bare minimum.

"Mizoshi?" He called out.

She had no option but to turn. "What is it, Naraku-sama?"

"Kanna will lead you to your room. You may visit any area of the castle you desire, except the basement. It's a rather dangerous place to roam around."

"I understand, my lord."

Finally, she reached the exit. She half-expected Naraku to call her back once more, but he did not. Frankly, she was glad to be away. The elder women in her former village whose hair had turned milky white with age insisted that one could feel good or bad karma. Naraku's presence made her extremely uncomfortable, though "evil" was too strong a word, wasn't it? Kagura, however, would have a differing opinion.

Out in the hall, Mizoshi took note that the book Naraku held was colder than ice.