"This way." Kohkau motioned with his hand.
"All right." Moodily, Mizoshi walked behind the demon slayer boy.
I don't mean to complain, but there's a damp winter chill in the air and the sun has set. Shouldn't we both be stationed near a warm fire? How can Kohaku not feel it?
Indeed, there was no discomfort in Kohaku's boyish face. Not one shiver in any of his limbs. He might've been walking on a glorious spring afternoon judging by the nonchalant way he moved his muscles down the slight decline that would get deeper and deeper towards the bottom.
It's nearly a mile to the barrier itself. Will I have to struggle through it again as well? I hope not. That would border on sadism on Naraku's part.
Fortunately, this development did not occur. Instead, it appeared that the pair of warriors were right there waiting for them—precious yards away from the offending, repelling barrier that was already turning Mizoshi's stomach into knots.
In the steadily darkening canyon, the two indistinct shapes were immersed in the thickening mountain mist. Mizoshi could barely make them out, but it seemed like one was coolly leaning against the rocky wall of the mountain itself, and the other was perched rather despairingly on a lopsided boulder.
"When is he going to get here?" a whining, unfamiliar voice issued from the boulder. "I hate waiting, Bankotsu. You know that."
"Be quiet, Jakotsu. I think I hear something now."
"It's probably just another thieving bird!" There was a note of irrational paranoia in that unfamiliar voice.
"Jakotsu, for the last time, the bird was not intentionally trying to remove your hairpin. It was…merely too curious for its own good." Bankotsu chuckled at some private amusement of his.
Precious seconds later, she discovered exactly what the private amusement was all about. Something rolled and stopped right in front of Mizoshi's foot. Something that used to be a high-soaring hawk; the soft tan feathers matted with maroon red blood. Emitting a short gasp, she hesitantly stepped around the grisly sight.
Will that happen to me? Am I flying too high? Getting too curious?
"The predator kills the predator," the over-confident soldier proclaimed wittily.
"That'll teach it," the unfamiliar voice named Jakotsu murmured.
"Now, how about…wait." The soldier started and proceeded to stand ramrod straight, no longer lounging serenely. "I do hear something," he hissed, "and it's getting closer. Boy, I sure do hope our guest isn't uninvited."
Pure panic was starting to flutter in Mizoshi's chest, no different than a hunted, dying bird.
I'm uninvited…
"It's just me," Kohaku finally identified himself, "and Mizoshi too."
"Who the hell is Mizoshi?" the unfamiliar voice demanded.
Flabbergasted, she watched the crouched shape hop off the boulder and land on its feet. Mizoshi examined this Jakotsu just as surely as Jakotsu was scrutinizing her.
Jakotsu appeared to be female at first glance, but, when she peered closer, she could clearly glimpse masculine muscles and features. The said blue hairpin rode on Jakotsu's tousled raven-black tresses; its shape indistinguishable from this distance. However, Mizoshi could see the ruby-red polished lips that were no different from Kagura's own and the two curious indigo strips that fell away Jakotsu's eyes like painted tears. Jakotsu's athletic form was encased in a rather feminine mauve kimono that was adorned with a pattern of drifting green leaves. Hitched on Jakotsu's back was a sword. Mizoshi could see the ivory handle peeping out from his shoulder. Or, was that her shoulder?
Hmm. Jakotsu and Bankostu share the same syntax that is composed of the last five letters of their names, and both names are undeniably male.
But, then why is Jakotsu dressed like—?
In a sudden burst of revelation, Mizoshi realized why, and dropped the subject altogether. The village children had talked about such people. Whenever she could get close enough to listen, that is.
It doesn't matter to me. I've seen stranger things…
"Mizoshi is Naraku's slave. A captive." Bankotsu sounded unquestionably confident about this statement, even though she was anything but.
"You mean, that guy we're supposed to be working for?"
"Yeah. Him."
"I might just have to meet this man for myself." A dreamy, slightly disturbing, gaze seized hold of Jakotsu's dark eyes.
Bankotsu snorted in derision. "I don't think Naraku would be much interested. That would defeat the purpose of owning a slave." Pointedly, he nodded to her while her cheeks flamed red.
Why must he keep saying that?
"Her?" Jakotsu glared mean daggers. "Hmph. Honestly, I don't even know what girls are good for."
Mizoshi was vaguely amused.
This Jakotsu hates me for simply because of my gender? And, he hasn't even glimpsed my eyes…
It was comforting in a way, no matter how ridiculous it was.
Besides, I don't think Bankotsu and Jakotsu mind if I am hanyou since they are working for Naraku. But, why haven't I met these men before?
"Lay off of her, Jakotsu," Bankotsu laughed. "So, are ya comin' with us?" He jerked his head in her direction.
"No," Mizoshi gratefully declined. "I was just sent to…meet with you." She was aware of how weak her excuse sounded, even though that had been the dark hanyou's exact intention.
"All right." Bankotsu turned around in disinterest. "Let's go."
"Wait!" Mizoshi blurted out.
In suppressed irritation, Bankotsu and his sword swung around. "What is it?"
Should I have spoken out?
Well, it was too late now.
The question sprang easily to her lips. "Why haven't I seen you before? I've been with Naraku for a while now, and have never spotted any of you."
The brash warrior smirked. "Maybe because we were only just recently reborn."
"Can't we just leave, big brother?" Jakotsu glared more keenly sharpened daggers. "It's getting dark. She doesn't need to know anything."
Bankostu shrugged. "I know, but I'm feeling generous tonight."
Mizoshi was opening her mouth again, but her company was already departing. Hesitantly, she shut it and watched them leave until their backs disappeared over the hill. She was overstaying her welcome, and she knew it.
I haven't slept in that castle for several nights now. Add that to Naraku's current frame of mind, and you get an extreme case of nervousness.
Accepting her fate, Mizoshi made the miserable trek back to her "home." That Jakotsu had been right. Stealthily, darkness was filling the sky and cloaking the land in shadows. Also, a chilling wind was whistling through the various mountain ridges and canyons—sending Mizoshi's nerves even further on edge. In a kind of hope, she desperately searched for a sprinkling of stars, but ultimately glimpsed more thick snow clouds.
Is the dark hanyou worried?
Never. He's never worried…
Shivering, she ascended the veranda and ducked inside the interior of the much-reduced castle—both in size and overall finery. However, at least one good thing had come of this reduction; there was no barrier of miasma that was virtually impassable encircling the entirety of the structure. In truth, she could come and go as she pleased. However, she wasn't that free-spirited.
The spider wouldn't allow it in any event. As soon as I walk back inside, my legs are entangled in the web.
Making her way over to her food stores, Mizoshi prepared a simple meal of roasted meat and boiled rice. Naturally, after the rice was exhausted, she would have to wait until spring to collect any more of the satisfying grains.
Speaking of which, where will I be in spring? Here? Elsewhere? Where will he be, and how will he appear?
Indeed, the vision of Naraku's "evolved" and "improved" form seized her mind's eye in the most inopportune moments. Such as when she ate.
Will he act any differently? Will he look different? How?
Sighing, she cleared away her now empty dishes and rinsed them off in a tired old porcelain basin. After the day she had, that sleeping mattress was plainly whispering her name.
Threading through the hollow and empty corridors of the castle that resembled tunnels of spider silk more than anything else, Mizoshi arrived in her bedchamber. Quickly changing into her pale blue yukata, she swept into the jumbled mass of covers. However, she soon discovered she was not alone. Blankets shouldn't just latch onto one's waist…
He's here.
"Mizoshi." His voice was smoother than the silken sheets. "I hope you don't mind if I decided to wait."
"Naraku?" Her voice carried a note of anxiety.
"Hush, my twittering sparrow," he whispered. "The spider is here to keep you warm. Without further hesitation, his lips found hers through the tangled bedding. Your loneliness is unmistakable." He kissed her harder.
Closing her eyes in surrender, Mizoshi enfolded the spider in her downy wings to experience the sensations that only he could bring. While Naraku had been ill, many brands of affection had been denied them. Obviously, he was now better. Mizoshi couldn't wish for more.
Although, he can.
Allowing all gnawing worries and present cares to evaporate, Mizoshi held him closer--her back deliciously sinking into the mattress itself. For now, the dark hanyou's schemes did not exist. The same went for the Shikon jewel.
It's been so long. I don't want to question any of his motivations now. All that matters is this…
Hungrily, his lips captured her own: the dark hanyou's wandering hands setting her skin aflame on contact.
This is what I remember. This is the only thing I want to remember...
Perspiring under his uncharacteristically tender ministrations, she let out a moan.
So, my inner phoenix approves.
All too soon, the glowing embers that had almost been lovingly stirred into a blazing bonfire was once more a mere smolder. However, the passion was slow to leave his sinewy gripping arms. In a sort of languid exhaustion, he continued to hold her, heavy head dropping down on her shoulder. If she turned her face towards him in the manner of a deprived flower seeking light, she would inevitably meet his soft trailing tresses of ebony richness.
He must care for me. No other could make me feel this way.
Doesn't he?
Unfortunately, unconsciousness snatched her away before she could even hazard an answer.
Her breathing was now regimented. Mechanically, Mizoshi's chest was rose and fell. She was asleep.
How cute.
A private smirk creasing his features; Naraku closed his own eyes of red. He had nothing to fear from this one. Maybe he'd even stay until she awoke instead of stealing away into the evening mist.
So. This is her. The woman I love.
Suddenly, an unnamable tightness constricted his heart. Stifling back a growl, he focused his mind and will on the situation at hand--the girl sleeping so disgustingly peaceful beneath him.
She can't understand what's inside of me. No being can, not even my own incarnations.
Obsessively, Naraku reviewed the pressing matter from the beginning. From when he'd first beheld her in the breezy autumn woods.
She was so innocent. Foolhardy. A keepsake. A toy. But later, I grew to accept her as a member of my "family."
Family. The word was a lie. Still, she was his. Indeed, she was a bird that had flew into his web. There was no question about it. And, the little swallow never bothered to struggle.
Strange. Is this place truly better than where she came from?
At times, such as right now, Naraku was admittedly angry at Mizoshi for the most absurd of reasons. It wasn't because of unfaithfulness. Oh, Mizoshi was superbly loyal enough. Nor was it due to some meaningless quarrel. In all truth, her disagreement with his current plans of becoming a youkai paled in comparison to this. No, his anger stemmed from a more obscure branch of his essence. The reason was simply…her.
What is she trying to prove?
Constantly, he caught her gazing at him. Straight black hair kissing her shoulders. Golden eyes that weren't so abnormal to him shimmering in complete adoration. Bare feet—always tottering on bare feet. Walking in the rice clothes of a noblewoman, but neither noble nor mature woman. A portrait of youth and girlhood. Of naiveté.
What is she trying to prove by loving the spider?
Gripping the bed sheets, Naraku glanced down at that slackened beautiful vision. She was smiling. A smile always graced her lips when he…came for a nightly visit. Silently, he lay back down gingerly so as not to awaken her.
What does she expect from me? What keeps her smiling?
But, of course, the answer was fairly obvious. It was nestled in his ribcage.
Oh, Mizoshi. If only you knew everything about that treachorous heart…
For fifty years, he had lived in this inadequate body, waiting for a chance to rid himself of Onigumo's heart.
My sole aim.
Gently, he ran his hand through her hair. Still, she slept.
Nothing would stand in the way in achieving his greatest goal. He needed to shed the organ, just as much as Mizoshi needed to shed her past, not to mention her perpetual gullibility. Hanyou had to change to survive, to strive beyond their pathetic origins. It was their only chance—the only chance worth living for.
My existence as a hanyou must end. This traitorous heart must be obliterated. Why can't Mizoshi see that? How dare she doubt my judgment?
The girl has grown bold. Fiery.
Sighing, he shifted under the coverlets. Sleep would some soon for him as well. But, when he was youkai, he'd rarely have a need such a human activity.
However, can I make an exception for Mizoshi? What will become of Mizoshi? She'll remain a hanyou until the eventual end of her days.
To be sure, he was no fool. Naraku had anticipated that his feelings and attitudes towards her might undoubtedly transform along with his flesh. In fact, he could understand why she was worried. It was just that he didn't pay it much thought.
A dilemma. Should I decide to strip myself of my annoying human byproduct—unwelcome results could happen. However, it must be done.
Before Mizoshi came into his life, there was another woman. A woman whose presence could always be felt. Heart beating faster in sick appreciation of its volition, he would remember the woman that had once cared for him, or rather for his former self. She had watched over him. Cared for him. A woman he now despised.
Let's see, soil-dark hair woven into loops over her rigid shoulders, dead eyes, corpse white skin. Solemn demeanor.
Cursing Onigumo with the whole of his demonic spirit, Naraku's eyes were now glowing such a fierce vermillion that even Kanna would wince in her soulless body. Kagura herself would be quivering in fright should she have been standing in the immediate perimeter.
Oh, Mizoshi, the heart must be disposed of. For more reasons than you think.
Almost as a formality, he kissed the phoenix hanyou's cheek.
His heart burned…
Author's Note: Here's to some much needed romance! Even though Kikyo is mentioned, she will not physically appear. (I'm taking a chance here with this Kikyo involvement, but I suppose that it makes sense. She is still part of Onigumo's heart.) As always, thanks to the reviewers and supporters! And yes, they'll be together at the end of the fic. All will work out. :)