The story's still going, though this chapter is a little short, not to mention sad at the end. Thanks to Standing Stone and Kristiana Marie. My mind gets a little weird at times, especially when trying to write dark characters like Naraku. (shudders)
Mizoshi gazed down the hall and was nearly taken aback. A ghostly slip of a girl, no older than nine years old, was staring at her with intense, round, onyx eyes. This must be Kanna. She was dressed purely in white. White bows decorated her white kimono. White sandals were on her feet. White flowers adorned her white hair. Her complexion was sallow, paler than that of Naraku's own. Except for her unnaturally dark eyes, she was completely devoid of color, save for the silver circular mirror she held in her delicate hands.
Follow me," she commanded simply, completely emotionless.
Mizoshi walked behind her "guide" to a room on the other side of the castle. One lonely door was set in the wall. Was Naraku purposefully isolating her? Kanna opened the door and ushered Mizoshi inside, leaving her to marvel at the interior. It was so…different. Almost pretty.
The walls were painted a cool sage green, her favorite color, as opposed to the harsh violet that was the hue of the corridor walls. A large, comfortable mattress of thick bedding lay in the center of the vast chamber. A meticulously carved wardrobe stood in the far corner with a dressing table not far away from that. Vases of orange, gold, and cerulean blue furnished the empty spaces; adding splashes of cheerfulness to the hollow room that was beautiful all the same.
"This place is yours for the moment. You may enter the garden whenever you wish, whether the sun shines or not." Just now, the sliding doors came into Mizoshi's line of sight, though the shades were drawn. Mizoshi took Kanna's word for it and nodded respectfully. "Thank you, Kanna."
"Naraku-sama said to escort to you to your chamber and I have. That is not much to thank me for." Puzzling over this, she watched the strange, apathetic girl shuffle out of the room. Kanna certainly was not comparable to her outspoken sister Kagura. The two were as different as quiet night and clamoring day. Quite a bizarre household. Then, she was not one to judge.
Mizoshi strode over to the teak dressing table and examined the objects arrayed across its gleaming surface. There were toiletries, incense, and tools needed to detangle one's hair. She was outfitted for several grooming needs.
Standing in the middle of the large chamber, she silently commented that it was more than half the size of her family's hut and twice as extravagant. Strangely, she was pleased at this. And yet, guilt gnawed at her entire being. How could she celebrate at this stroke of good fortune when her mother and brothers' bodies lay on the dusty ground? Was this a sort of punishment for her mother for procreating outside her race? Was she doomed too? Her people believed that demons themselves were entirely wicked, and any humans that associated with them were too.
The luxurious room forgotten for the most part, Mizoshi did what she always did in times of doubt. She prayed. She was always considered sort of religious; praising the kami she could not see, even though they gave no sign of hearing her or if they did more harm than good. Mizoshi tried to uphold the affirmations of Shintoism the best she could as her mother's ancestors did throughout their lives.
Before she could experience the peace of nature, she had to make her offerings. Kneeling by the bed, this was something she had done since she could say her first sentence. She prayed for everyone: herself, her family, and surprisingly, Naraku himself.
Naraku leaned against the hall, watching the delectable Mizoshi on her knees. She was praying. How divine she was. Naraku, having nothing better to do at the moment, decided to check on the extraordinary, abandoned half demon girl. He sincerely hoped she wasn't moving her lips to save his soul by some chance. Still, for all her holiness and graciousness, there was deep sorrow within her, and perhaps a thickly concealed anger at all the injustices in her life that could be expertly bent to his designs.
Besides, the place could use some new company. It may be interesting to see the apparently gentle Mizoshi fare against the turbulent Kagura. He observed the book that he left her was on the dressing table. The warm burgundy cover seemed out of place in the myriad of cool shades that garnished the chamber. Purposefully, he put in her a room as far away as he could from his own, so as to not arouse any suspicion. Here, he could spy on her safely.
He might let her go eventually, but she amused him for now. Little did she know, she was nary more than a doll he discovered in the forest that he brought home for his darling daughters to play with. It might be fun to guess how long she'd last in this cursed palace.
Leaving her to her superstitions of god-like spirits, he stalked away. However, as he marched through the corridors, a chilling wind swept past him. With this spectral, supernatural gust came a voice. "Please, don't hurt my sister…"
He gasped in shock. He had heard it. The piping voice of a little boy.
Shaking off the otherworldly experience, he retreated to his tea parlor where ghosts could not bother him.